She doesn’t respond.
“Leti—“ I growl.
“It’s enough,” she snaps.
Good. Satisfied, I once again settle my weight between her thighs. I could sit back in my seat, safe in the knowledge that she can’t escape me again. But I’m loath to allow any distance between us. This close, I’m able to examine every freckle on her face and smell the heady fragrance of cinnamon and vanilla rooted beneath her skin.
No. Distance is the last thing I need. I’ll stay right here.
Rio hits a bump in the road, and my hard-on grinds against her.
I barely manage to stifle my groan, and from the look on her face, she doesn’t dislike the feel of my erection between her thighs.
Conscious of our audience, I test my theory and shift my hips, this time thrusting with intention against her center.
Leticia sucks in a breath, and her cheeks tinge with pink. But she doesn’t rebuke me.
I repeat the motion, thrusting into her again. And again. All too quickly, memories of us grinding in the backseat of my Silverado as teenagers surface, taking me back to the days when Leticia Castro was enthusiastically mine. We were young back then. I was more innocent than I am now. Though claiming I was ever innocent is a bit of a stretch.
Leticia was, though. She was soft, shy, and sweet. I might not have understood how we fit together so perfectly before. How a girl like her could come to care for a boy like me whose soul was tainted in blood. But neither did I question it. I accepted her love and affection for the gift it was, having learned long before never to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Cartel life means you grow up fast, but I’ve had to grow up faster. And still… we fit.
Eyes darkening with lust, Leti’s plum-colored lips part on a sigh.
A subtle invitation I would be foolish to ignore.
Dipping my head, I nip at her full bottom lip, eliciting a sharp intake of breath.Santa Muerte,how quickly my need for this woman consumes me.
“Tell me you still want me.”
She shakes her head. A wordless denial.
“I don’t believe you.”
She might want to pretend that feelings between us are long dead and buried. But her denial is pointless in the face of the blush currently coloring her cheeks and the way her eyes dilate with need with each press of my length against her core.
My thoughts are confirmed when a breathy moan slips past her lips, and I give in to the temptation to claim her mouth. Closing the scant inches between us, I crush my lips to hers, determined to swallow her lies before she can give voice to them.
She’s stiff beneath me at first, but it only takes a few swipes of my tongue over the seam of her mouth before she softens, parting her lips and allowing me entry.
The taste of sweet cherries and vodka explodes over my taste buds, and I groan, settling my weight more firmly against her. I plunder Leticia’s mouth, determined to take everything she has to give. A feeling she appears to enthusiastically support.
Her lips and tongue tangle with mine in a silent bid for dominance.
Fuck. I missed this.
There were women before Leticia and a handful of carefully chosen ones after. But none has had the power to turn me into a ravenous beast. One who aches to devour and claim.
What I feel for this woman goes beyond mere desire or a need for release. Leticia Castro is a thirst I cannot quench and an addiction I have already decided to give in to.
Skimming my hand down to her bare calf, I hook her leg over my hip, opening her wide and thrusting harder against her heat.
The material of my slacks shifts along my skin, creating an uncomfortable sort of friction. It serves as a reminder of the unnecessary barrier still between us. And while I’d prefer to have her in my bed, I’ll have to settle for claiming her here first. I am through, waiting.
Pressing my hand between us, I rub two fingers over her clit, feeling the proof of her arousal through her soaked panties.
“Fuck. I knew you’d be wet.” I groan into her kiss. “So fucking wet and ready for me.”
