Page 205 of LA King

She rolls her eyes, defiance already seeping back into her. “Like take her into foster care?”

“If that’s what’s necessary, then yes.”

She shakes her head. “But how will we know she’s actually safe? Besides, she wants to stay here in LA. She’s terrified of going back to Chicago.”

Why should I care about a sixteen-year-old girl I’ve only met once? But I do care about my wife, and for that reason, I find myself relenting. “I know some people who might be able to help. We’ll make sure she gets placed with a good family. And as for Blake Fielding, he’s already a fucking dead man walking.” His name alone is enough to have my simmering anger at near-boiling point. I gave his name to a team of my best men and am confident they’ll find him by morning.

“What kind of people do you know who can help her?”

“Lawyers. Some city officials.”

That seems to satisfy her, and she relaxes into my arms.

I bury my face in her hair. “If anything ever happened to you, Alana … Eres todo para mí.”

“I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. You told me your mom used to sneak out all the time with you when you were a kid. You almost seemed proud of her for it.”

“And I was. But things are different now. My father’s enemies from that time are not the same breed as mine are now. Back then, it was an unwritten rule that you never went after women and children. If you did, you were ostracized. But the world is different now. Our enemies would think nothing of hurting you to get to me.”

“Would you ever do something like that? Hurt innocent women and children?” she asks, her eyes wide and imploring.

“No,” I tell her truthfully. “Never.”

She gives me one of her killer smiles, and I stand and lift her into my arms. “Enough talking. It’s time for dessert.”

She squeals. “Ooh, what are we having?”

“You’re not getting any dessert. I’m going to be eating pussy for mine.”

She makes an overly dramatic gasping sound. “You have a filthy mouth, Mr. Montoya.”

“You have no idea, princesa.”

I carry her through to the bedroom, lay her on the bed, and strip her out of my T-shirt. My mouth waters at the prospect of tasting her.

“Open those legs and let me see you,” I command as I strip.

She spreads her thighs wide for me, her pussy already glistening with her arousal. I drop to my knees at the foot of the bed. With my arms hooked around her thighs, I pull her toward me. Her pussy is only an inch from my face, and the smell of her sweet cum has my cock throbbing.

“Alex,” she groans.

I close my eyes and breathe her in. This woman is too fucking good for me, but I don’t care. She’s mine, and no other man will ever touch her. I lap at her opening, drinking her juices and swirling my tongue over her sensitive flesh. She moans my name again, and I double my efforts before moving up to her clit, where I suck and lick until she begs me to let her come. When I slide two fingers inside her, she clenches around me, on the brink of climaxing. I love keeping her on the precipice of ecstasy because when she’s there, all she can think of is me and how good I make her feel.

I sink in deeper, searching for the sweet spot that makes her whimper. When I find it, I rub firmly and suck her clit hard between my teeth. She rewards me with a scream of my name and a rush of her sweet cum.

Fuck me. I could spend every second of the rest of my life eating and fucking her, and it wouldn’t be enough. She consumes me. Everything I am belongs to Alana Montoya.

Chapter

Forty-Nine

Alana

Ilie on the sofa, wearing nothing but one of Alejandro’s T-shirts, with my head on his lap while we watch a movie.

I’m so content I could purr like a cat. We’ve had the most incredible day together. I wanted to go swimming in the ocean earlier, and I asked him if I could borrow some of his boxer shorts and a T-shirt, but he refused, insisting that I swim naked and assuring me it was his own private beach where no one would see me. I agreed on the understanding that he would come skinny-dipping with me.

He pulled off his clothes and chased me out into the water before I finished the sentence. Afterward, we had sex in the wet sand with the water lapping at our feet, and it was glorious.