He holds it up in his hand. “Looking for this?”
A soft whimper of wrathful sorrow leaves my lips as I fight tooth and nail against the tears that want to slip from my eyes. Much different from the tears I was crying just a minute ago, in the purest, most blinding pleasure I’ve ever felt.
These are tears of hatred, for myself as much as him.
The Ivory sucks his teeth, shaking his head. “There there, little bird. Don’t hate me.”
“Idohate you,” I snarl, lunging to grab a handful of his open dress shirt. He lets me, simply blinking while I seethe in his face, “I hate you more and stronger than anyone’s ever loathed anything.”
“That’s not very nice, Angelito.” He faux-pouts. “After what I just gave to you…”
“I didn’t want that,” I hiss. “Especially not from you…”
“Lies,” he hums. “I knew as soon as I saw you what you’ve been needing…” My jaw tics. “Boys like the bartender will never understand you, pajarito. Not as I do.”
My brows furrow. “Estás loco.Diablo… are you jealous?”
His amusement falls, and he gets this rabid sparkle in his black irises. “Nothing to be jealous of. I just know you shouldn’t be giving yourself to random fuckboys who will never trulyseeyou.”
I’m gaping at him, as the words crawl from within my throat, “You’re not my father.Youkilled him, remember? You sick fuck…”
He continues to regard me, like he’s not fazed in the slightest by my vicious words.
“You’re right. I did,” he utters. “And you know why, so there’s no point in arguing about it.”
“Fuck you…” I grunt again.
“I wasn’t lying before,” he goes on, needling me while I’m fuming. “Ihavebeen waiting for you… Knowing all these years that one day you wouldcomefor me.”
A ghost of a quirk tugs the corner of his mouth.
“You think you know me??” I growl over his mouth. “You knownothing.”
In a flash, I’m on my back again, and he’s pinning me down, my knife in his hand, at my side. “I know you’re just as alone as I am, and that you tell yourself you like it, but you don’t. Youhateit, in fact. I know that you’ve been waiting fifteen years for this moment, as I have, but deep down, youknewyou’d squander it. Because as hard as you try, you’ll never be evil enough to take my life. And you’ll never understand why you don’t truly want to be.”
“I hate you, puta.” I spit in his face. “Give me that knife, I’ll gut you right now.”
He huffs out an incredulous scoff that boils my blood even more. “You’re weak, pajarito. Because youneed. But I make you feel what no one else does… Only me.Imake you cry like you’re still a sniveling little baby with bliss and agony. I own your every sensation, byright, Angel. Don’t push me.”
“You. Don’t. Own. Me.” I teem. “And you will die by my hands, Diablo. That ismyright.”
Before he can say another word, I launch my knee up,hard, right into his balls.
He roars, toppling off of me in pain. I don’t think, stop, or hesitate.
I just run.
Run out of the room while he groans and coughs, “Fuck… Huyes de tu jaula, pajarito…I’ll be… waiting…”
I’m watching him scoop himself up off the floor.
Beautiful… Truly a masterpiece of physicality, this one.
His body is like something you dream up, only it’s real—I would know. I spent the last two hours and forty-some-odd minutes exploring it in pretty much every way imaginable.
Black hair all mussed up, tear-stained cheeks beneath those piercing blue eyes, lidded from all the orgasms.
He must be tired.I know I am.
