Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
She gave him a vicious glare then redirected it to Frizz.
Sure, his corpse-like appearance and fetish with sewn mouths was gruesome, but she wouldn’t be so quick to judge if she knew his story.
Frizz ticked his head to the side and wiggled three fingers at her in greeting.
She choked and shot her gaze to the floor.
Dinner was delivered in courses by servers in black suits, beginning with grilled lamb chunchullo, followed by sancocho, large pieces of plantain, sliced avocado, and white rice. The rich spicy scent of the tropical stew blended with cigar smoke and the hum of laughter. Easy conversation added a low-key backdrop. Nothing seemed out of place, which made it difficult to keep his guard up.
As Nico discussed the finer details of yesterday’s heroin shipment to Orlando, Matias spooned hunks of salty meat from the soup and fed Camila.
She sat on her heels, knees bent in perfect form, and opened her mouth for each bite without contest. But she couldn’t hide the pain etching her face.
There was that pinch of guilt again, twisting behind his ribs.
He glanced across the table and met Picar’s cloudy eyes. The old doctor didn’t speak very good English, but he excelled at deciphering expressions. Gerardo’s double-dealings had begun only two days ago, and it had been Picar who’d noticed Gerardo seemed shady.
Leaning to the side, Picar removed something from his bag on the floor and slid it across the table. Matias recognized the color and shape of the pill, and for a moment, he considered the possibility that it could be poison made to look like Vicodin. But Picar was a devoted husband and father. He had nothing to gain and everything to lose if he fucked over one of his own. Besides, if he’d wanted to harm Camila, he would’ve done it when he injected the sedative on the plane.
Matias pocketed the pill.
Between spoonfuls of sancocho, Chispa and Nico debated strategies on how to deal with the federal agents that hovered around the compound in El Paso. In the distance, thunder rumbled, drawing Matias’ attention to the huge archways and columns that encircled the veranda.
Nightfall blackened the horizon, hushing the chirrup of cicadas, but the sound of drizzling rainfall helped to ease his nerves.
He pushed his chair back and patted his lap, watching Camila out of the corner of his eye.
She grimaced, and her mouthwatering cleavage heaved above the bodice of the corset. She could hate him all she wanted. His lap would be a fuckton more comfortable against her sore muscles than the wood floor.
With a deep breath, she rose, her legs trembling with the effort. As she stepped in front of him, she kept her head lowered and arms hanging loosely at her sides.
He turned her to face the table, and sweet mother, her round flawless backside flexed inches away. He wanted to shred the panties, bend her over the table, and sink his teeth in. Followed by his cock.
Heat surged along his shaft as he imagined how tight that little hole would feel clenched around his thrusts. He could do it, fuck her ass right here, and not a goddamn person in this room would raise a brow.
The way into her heart was without a doubt a path of tribulation. But where he put his mouth and cock wasn’t the key factor in obtaining his goal. It was the ability to connect with her on a fundamental level.
Curling his fingers over the black lace on her hips, he drew her toward him and settled her on his thigh.
She sat rigidly, hissing from the pain, elbows locked against her sides, and legs shaking. With an arm around her waist, he pulled her back against his chest and scooted the chair forward, sliding her lower half beneath the edge of the table top.
Stiff as a board, she refused to relax against his reclined body. Her breaths sharpened, expanding her rib cage and testing the seams of the corset.
She really wasn’t going to appreciate his hands on her, but anyone outside of his table would expect a public display of groping to be the only reason he moved her to his lap.
Over the years, he’d brought slaves to dinner, not for his pleasure, but for the sole purpose of tormenting them. After Camila’s disappearance, he’d taken a special interest in slavery. He so badly wanted to sit her down and explain his involvement. Hell, he wanted to explain everything. But she wasn’t ready.
Beneath the concealment of the table, he cupped her pussy over the panties. His other hand rested lightly against her throat as he made a shushing noise at her ear.
She drew several more breaths. Then her muscles began to loosen against his legs and chest. An eternal moment later, she let her head fall back on his shoulder. He released her neck.