El Pecador

  It was loud, disastrous, and chaotic.

  It was going to take everything around her with it, like a tornado spinning around in circles. It elicited feelings I never thought would be possible, emotions no one should ever have to experience. I felt every loss of breath uttered from her broken heart. It cluttered my mind, willing me to keep going, to push through. I couldn’t keep up with her agony that grasped onto my heart like a fucking vice.

  I simply said the only thing to be true, with desperation in my tone. I had nothing left to lose, but everything to gain. “You don’t belong in this godforsaken life, Amira. You never fucking did.”

  She maliciously smiled, gesturing her hands around the room. “Take a look around, Damien.”

  I did. For the first time since I stepped foot into her safe house, I peered around the room. My eyes widened, this wasn’t only her safe house, it was a mansion. Grand, angled staircases led up to a set of custom stairs with intricate latticework covering all the steps. Opening up to a wide foyer with shiny marble floors. Walls ascended as far as I could see. To our left an elaborate living room complete with an expensive pool table on the far wall.

  “Not bad for a girl from El Rancho, eh? I’ve done well for myself. I have power, more money than I know what to do with, and the respect from anyone and everyone. No one crosses me and lives to tell about it. I’m not a drug lord, District Attorney Damien Montero. I am the drug lord. So, unless you’re here to fucking arrest me, get the fuck out!”

  I don’t know how long I stood there stunned by the turn of events, raging with fury of my own creation.

  Her.

  “Muñeca—”

  “Oh my God! I swear if you call me Muñeca one more time, I will put a fucking bullet in your head!”

  I ignored her bullshit threats, they meant nothing to me. “What are you doing in Detroit, Amira? How did you even get to the States?”

  “It’s none of your business how I got here, or what I’ve done with my life. I stopped being your concern the morning you left me alone with my virgin blood still on the fucking sheets. After you fucked me!”

  I stepped toward her, she stepped away. “I didn’t fuck you, Amira. You and I both know what that was.”

  “A waste of fucking time, that’s all it was. I want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? Stay the fuck away from me! I’m not your little doll you can play with whenever you want. Not fucking anymore.”

  I growled out my frustration, unleashing the craze, the wrath I no longer had any control over. It pounded into me as furiously as the truths she believed and was spewing at me.

  “I’m hanging on by a thread here. So, unless you want to see a side of me you haven’t fucking seen in years, I suggest you play nice and answer my fucking questions! Do you understand me?”

  “I don’t know how to play nice!” With that, she started throwing shit at me again from the living room. I fell to the floor, taking cover behind a sofa. “We’re done, Damien! We’ve been done since you fucked me over! I want nothing to do with you!”

  Glasses, plates, lamps, a shitload of books and decorations flew at me.

  “We’re far from fucking done. Nothing will ever be done between us! We are Andromeda and Perseus, remember?” I slowly stood, surrendering my hands, making sure I wasn’t about to take a candelabra to the head. “We’re written in the stars, surrounded by nothing but darkness and the love we’ve always had for each other. Since day fucking one!”

  Throwing a marble ball decoration at me from her coffee table, she snidely smiled. I caught it with my bare hand, whipping it to the floor. Shattering it into a million pieces.

  “Damn, El Santo really knows how to lay it on thick. I can see how you became District Attorney. You should actually be thanking me. I gave you years of practice for spewing your bullshit lines to people! Starting with, ‘I love you!’”

  Picture frame after picture frame came at me, but it didn’t stop me from moving forward, intercepting and deflecting random shit. She stepped back, grabbing everything in sight to keep me away.

  “Oh, fuck you! You want the truth! I’ll give you the fucking truth!” I took a few steps toward her, nothing but glass and debris crunching under my shoes. “I didn’t know you were a virgin. We hadn’t spoken in so long. Fuck! I wasn’t even in your life in any shape, way, or form. You know that as much as I do,” I paused, letting my words sink in. Watching her wall slowly come down. “That night with your boyfriend at the park, I thought… I mean his pants were unbuttoned. Imagine what I thought was about to go down?! Regardless of claiming you were just fooling around with him. I’m a fucking man, and you’re a naïve little girl. It wouldn’t take much to pull down your panties and make you beg for his cock!”

  “Naïve little girl?!” she sneered with so much fury. “How’s this for naïve little girl!”

  Before I could say another word, she kicked the flat screen T.V. off the stand, almost laying me the hell out.

  “Goddamn it!” I snapped, picking up the T.V. and throwing it out of the way of her path of destruction. Kicking shit in my way over to get to her.

  “Stop! You’re nothing but a bullshit liar! No amount of apologies, gifts, or lies you tell me will change how I feel.” She backed up some more, shoving furniture in my direction. “It makes me sick to my fucking stomach, standing in front of you right now. I don’t want you in my life. I don’t need you. Don’t you get it? I fucking hate you!”

  I felt the truth and severity of what she was saying. She meant it all and more.

  “I’ll earn back your trust, even if it takes me the rest of my life!” I picked up one of the chairs and threw it to the side. Taking a few more steps toward her.

  “I’ve been in the States almost as long as you have, and not once have I wanted to reach out to you. To see you. I want nothing to do with—”

  “But you’ve followed my career? Oh, fuck off… I’m not buying it.”

  “Don’t twist my words. It’s hard to avoid it, Damien!” Another lamp, another picture frame, another fucking glass crystal came at my head. Dodging right, left, ducking low. “Your pretty boy face is plastered all over the press and the news. Everyone knows who you are, El Santo. You’re a national celebrity. Stop trying to cross-examine me, my verdict is already in on you. Am I just supposed to forgive you because you suddenly have room for me in your life? When all I ever wanted was for you to let me be a part of it!”

  “I did let you in. In my own way, I had let you in. I didn’t go to you that night to deliberately fuck you and leave. I went there to see you one last time. I had to. I had every intention of giving you your gift, spending some time with you, and leaving for good. But when I was in my car, I remembered I still had Yuly in the inside pocket of my jacket. I was just going to place her back on your bed and get the hell out of there. I don’t have to explain what happened next, you were there.”

  She stopped. Finally, she fucking, stopped stepping back and throwing shit at me. Placing her hand out in front of her instead. “And look, you still fucked me! Knowing you were leaving the next day. Un-fucking-believable the shit you spew and think is okay. Fine, Damien… it’s okay! You win. You always fucking win. Thank you for explaining yourself, I truly appreciate it. I answered your questions, now you can get the fuck out,” she snidely relayed.

  “You haven’t answered a goddamn thing! Jesus Christ, Amira! I know I fucked up. I’ve known every day for the last twelve years. I. Fucked. Up. That’s all I’ve ever done with you! Come on, give me a little bit of fucking credit. I loved you. I still fucking love you. And you know that. You know that for a fact because you know me. You’re the only person in this world who knows me,” I reasoned, feeling as if I was battling a war I didn’t have a chance of winning.

  I didn’t care.

  I would fight for her until the end of time. I always had.

  “The only thing I know is how much I fucking hate you! I fucking hate you so much!” she yelled, her body shaking.

&nbs
p; The intensity vibrating deep into my soul.

  “I fucking hate you!” She reached behind her, grabbing onto the pool table balls, hurling them at me. Repeating she hated me over and over again as if she was desperately trying to make herself believe it.

  Only fueling my determination to get over to her, right then and there.

  My heart pounded and my ears rang as I blocked and shoved away each and every ball rushing my way. Nothing would stop me. Not even her. I was over to her before she even saw it coming.

  “I hate y—”

  Slamming her against the wall behind us, she winced from my touch. Breathing out, “I hate you, Damien.”

  And I grimaced from her words. Stating, “You wish you fucking hated me.”

  Crashing my mouth into hers.

  FOURTEEN

  DAMIEN

  My hands dug into her hair, and her hands clawed at my chest.

  It was intense.

  It was needy.

  It was everything.

  Forceful, demanding, urgent.

  She met each and every push and pull I delivered. Clutching onto the sides of her face as my tongue devoured her perfect pouty lips.

  Her soft tongue.

  Her scent.

  Her fucking body pressed against mine.

  I groaned involuntarily. My memories of her didn’t even compare to this.

  To her.

  She forcefully gripped onto the front of my shirt, yanking me closer like we weren’t close enough. Trying to mold us into one person, kissing me as if her life depended on it. She moaned into my mouth, making my cock twitch in my slacks.

  “Fuck… I missed you…” I groaned against her lips. Thanking God for the second time that night for giving me the chance to kiss her again.

  With a strong force, she suddenly shoved me away from her. Pulled her fist as far back as it would go and cold-clocked me across the face as hard as she could.

  My head whooshed back from the unexpected impact, but I was more blown away by her actions. My jaw burned instantly. I couldn’t remember the last time someone hit me.

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” she gritted out, standing taller.

  I shook it off, turning back around with my hand holding my jaw. Moving it around. Amira stood there unfazed, not backing down. Putting on a show.

  For me.

  For her.

  For both of us.

  Even though I knew her hand was throbbing from the assault, I reached for her on pure impulse. As soon as she felt my strong arms wrap around her waist, she deflected me as if my touch burned her skin.

  “I said, don’t fucking touch me!” she shouted bloody murder, pushing me as hard as she could. My back hit the column with a hard thud, and she didn’t falter.

  She came for me.

  “You liar! You’re nothing but a fucking liar!” she repeated, hitting me all over my face and body. Anywhere she could.

  I tried to block each and every advance, instigating her further to push and hit me harder. Taking out every ounce of frustration and hatred she had on me. All the years of pent-up anger, and I wasn’t just referring to the last twelve years.

  “Muñeca, calm the fuck down,” I ordered, trying to grip onto her wrists.

  “Don’t tell me what to do! You don’t ever get to tell me what to do! I’m not your fucking doll!” she yelled, hitting and shoving me more, the closer I tried to come toward her. “Save your bullshit lies for yourself this time, Damien! I don’t buy it anymore. I’m not the same young, naïve girl you left by herself in Cuba!”

  “I left you with Rosarío. Where the fuck is she? She would never let you—”

  She dug her nails into the sides of my neck and scraped all the way down, making me bleed. Raising her hand up to slap me across the face as hard as she could. Preparing to slap me again, but she wasn’t strong enough to hold me back any longer. In two seconds flat, I gripped onto her throat, shoving her into the nearest wall. Taking hold of both her wrists with my other hand and placing them above her head.

  I got right up in her pretty little face, rasping, “Do your worst, Amira. All it’s doing is making my cock harder.” I rubbed it against her thigh.

  She stared me dead in the eyes, nodding to my dick. “I’ve had better.”

  I called her bluff. “Who are you wet for, Muñeca? Who do you think you’re fucking with? I know you want it. Me. Your heart is racing under my touch, sweat is pooling at your temples, and if I hiked up your white goddamn dress and reached down into your panties, we both know you’d be wet for me.”

  She held her head higher in defiance. “I’m not wearing any.”

  I growled against her lips, and that was all it took for her to lose her shit. She crushed her mouth to mine, biting down on my bottom lip till she tasted blood. I abruptly jerked back, holding her wrists with one hand and yanking her hair by the nook of her neck with the other. She panted, frantically trying to gather her bearings from my tight hold. Both our bodies shook with undeniable desire. Every part of her resolve was hammering all around me.

  I could hear it in my ears.

  I could feel it in my bones.

  Breaching the walls she securely had in place for me. I swear every part of my nervous system was breaking, shutting down, making it hard to see, let alone stand.

  I don’t know if it was the meeting.

  The car chase.

  The arguing between us.

  Or the fact that she was alive and in my arms again that had me feeling fucking alive. When I had been dead for so fucking long.

  It was thrilling.

  It was captivating.

  I knew it was from her.

  It had everything to do with her.

  She weakly thrashed around some more, ignoring the pain in her head and the ache in her heart. The sorrow in the depths of her soul I’d caused. I held her tighter against my chest, both of us gasping for air.

  Which had me breathing out, “I love you, Amira. I’m in love with you. I’ve always fucking loved you. Then. Now. Forever. I haven’t been able to breathe without you. I belong to you.”

  She frustratingly screamed. I didn’t know if it was from what I said or from knowing it was the truth. Or possibly from knowing she wasn’t going anywhere unless I allowed her to. Closing her eyes, she tried to govern her breathing and her thoughts.

  Her fucking heart.

  Was still fucking mine.

  I loosened my grip, slowly brushing my lips against hers. I saw memories passing through her eyes, attacking her mind at rapid speed.

  “Fuck you, Damien!”

  “I’d rather fuck you, baby,” I murmured along her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I love you. You know that. You fucking know that… Where’s my girl, eh? Where’s my Muñeca?”

  She turned her face away from mine, but I gripped onto her chin forcing her to peer back up at me. I wanted a minute to touch her.

  To truly look at her.

  To strictly hold her.

  To fucking feel her.

  We stared at each other for what felt like hours, both of us lost in our own darkness.

  In our own demons.

  In our own regrets and mistakes.

  I rubbed her bottom lip with my thumb, reveling the feel of her velvety skin. Licking away the blood from my own lips, silently wishing it was her who was doing it for me. Her eyes followed the movement of my tongue, aware of what I was thinking and what I wanted. Producing a rush of adrenaline surging through our veins.

  “I fucking hate you,” she panted, once again slamming her lips into mine.

  I growled, parting them. My hands went to the seam of her tight dress, hiking it up to her hips. Slapping her ass, making her whimper before I lifted her up to straddle my waist. She winced from the loss of my touch when I sat her on the edge of the pool table, but it wasn’t missing for very long. I fell to my knees in between her legs, needing to taste her.

  Wanting to eat her.

  Needing to fuck her
pussy with my tongue.

  There was no way in hell I wasn’t going to devour her with my mouth. I was a greedy bastard.

  I inhaled her scent, softly kissing around her folds. She gasped when she felt my lips pushing against her heat, thrusting my tongue into her opening.

  She was pink.

  She was wet.

  She was perfect.

  And tasted like everything I ever wanted.

  “Fuck,” she moaned as I placed her thighs onto my shoulders. Her hands instantly fisted in my hair, tugging it to the point of pain.

  I knew her body better than she did.

  Looking up at her, I kneaded her tits. Sucking her clit into my mouth, urgently moving my head in a side-to-side, back-and-forth motion.

  “Ah!” she yelled out, trying to catch her bearings.

  Her chest heaved with every precise manipulation of my lips and tongue. My mouth literally eating her alive. Watching as I pushed two fingers into her wet pussy, causing her legs to shake and her body to tremble. Which only made me finger fuck her harder and lick her faster. Yearning to make her come in my mouth.

  I licked her one last time and then stopped. “Tell me you want it, Muñeca. Beg me for it,” I huskily urged.

  “Fuck you,” she breathed out, moving her hips with the same momentum of my fingers inside of her.

  I growled and returned to lapping at her heat, making her go crazy with passion and desire. The feelings only I could ever elicit from her. Within seconds I was making her come, hard. She shook the entire time as I let her ride out her orgasm against my mouth, releasing her with a pop. I didn’t bother wiping away her come from my face, attacking her mouth instead. With my hand at the back of her neck to keep her locked in place, close to me, exactly where I wanted her to be. She tasted every last bit of herself.

  “You don’t taste like you hate me.” I suddenly grabbed a fistful of her hair. She yelped at the unexpected intrusion on her scalp. “You’re fucking mine, Amira. You’ve always been mine. Every last inch of you belongs to me. Do you understand me?”

  She narrowed her eyes and spoke with conviction, “You’re nothing but a cock to me, like every other man I’ve fucked. I will never be yours. Do you understand me?”