Fuck.
Alma doesn’t ask me questions. She doesn’t demand loyalty. She justseesme. She’s the only thing I plan on protecting in this life where we’re both surviving a cycle of endless betrayal.
“Let’s just get this fucking money and get the fuck out of here,” I mutter.
Chapter 31
Alma
The bright lights make it easy to ignore the audience. I’ve always kept my focus on the performance, never letting my gaze wander past the stage, but it’s different now that I know Efren is watching.
Excitement courses through my skin. My every movement is fueled by thoughts of his submission to me. His obedience is the worship my body craves. And I want to be his to worship.
He stands at the back of the bar, where Claudi attempts conversation, but Efren doesn’t respond. We’re both pulled into the comfort of a world we’ve created, where only we exist.
Our eyes lock as I crawl toward him across the stage. A fever builds under my skin, and the fantasies that circle in my mind fuel my performance. Money flies to the stage, and the crowd cheers, but my eyes don’t leave his.
I crawl to the lip of the stage where the lights burn hottest, and the crowd reaches for me. I curl my body, arching my back, as I slide forward and grind my pussy onto the stage. Lifting myself back up, I turn and work the pole until the music dies and the lights fade.
Making my way back to the dressing room, I try to shake off the post performance adrenaline, but my body is still wound up.
Alma
Meet me in El Confessionario.
The message barely leaves my phone before the door opens. The other girls are laughing, wiping down their bodies, and counting cash, but my pulse drowns everything out. I touch my lips and taste the sweat and lipstick still clinging there.
Tonight’s outfit of choice is an orange velvet bikini top with matching fishnet tights. The boots are black and hit just above my knees. For the first time, I’m not wearing a wig, so my curls are on full display. My reflection stares back at me, wild-eyed and flushed. But beneath the surface, I can feel my anticipation.
I make my way toEl Confessionario. The same room where he’d shot and killed Curtis. Where he’d claimed my throat ruthlessly.
“Hey, Kitten,” Efren greets me from the red velvet sofa.
Above him, a neon green cross flickers between two symmetrical steel rings mounted to the wall. He’s in a pair of gray sweat pants and a matching hoodie—a more casual look for him, but he wears it well. In fact, he wears it too well.
“Who told you that you could go out dressed like such a slut?” I ask.
“A slut?” he repeats, half a laugh in his throat.
It dies when he sees my hardening expression. He knows the feral part of me has taken over. He licks his lips and nods. Then slowly, he rises from the sofa.
His hands grip the hem of his hoodie, dragging it over his head in one clean motion. The muscles in his stomach tighten as the fabric lifts, giving me a glimpse of ink coveringhis tan skin. His hoodie lands on the floor with a soft thud. His eyes stay on me as he peels off his T-shirt next.
I resist the urge to do it myself, and yet I never want this to end. His body is a masterpiece, every muscle on full display. His shoulders flex with the movement, veins shifting beneath his skin. His shirt joins his hoodie, and I catch the faint smell of his body wash.
“Better?” he asks.
“Keep going,” I urge.
His mouth curves, just slightly. He drags the drawstring from his sweats, pulling it loose with a snap that echoes in the silence. His waistband dips just enough to make my breath catch.
I lift my hand. “Slowly.”
He slides the fabric down, his movements unhurried and deliberate. The power between us tilts. It’s not about control but who dares to hold on to it longer. By the time he steps out of his sweats and briefs, the room feels thick with heat. I might get lost in the beauty of him. I’ve never been fond of penises, Lord knows I’ve seen my fair share of them in this industry, but his is something else. The veins. The piercings.Mine.
Opening the top drawer of the end table next to the sofa, I retrieve the handcuffs inside.
“Sit, hands up,” I command, pushing him back against the cushions.
