he slips a hand between my legs, his middle finger sliding along my slit. He makes a low, growling sound when he finds me wet, and his finger lightly presses my clit, making me see stars.
“When I’m done, I’ll turn you over and fuck your sexy little ass,” he says, catching and holding my gaze in the mirror. “I already own every inch of you, but I would take everything else. I’d spank you until your ass is red and throbbing, bind you so you can’t move while I lick you until you come … clamp your nipples and shove a plug up your ass to get you ready for me. I’ll use you every way I can think of, then I’ll invent new ones. I’ll tear you apart, gatita.”
I slump against him, his threats and the slow circle of his finger over my clit drugging me into submission. I want to be afraid, regretful for thinking I could seduce Diego. I’m the one being seduced, and the threats he’s making don’t scare me. They make me pulse and ache, my pussy getting wetter as he tells me the filthy things he wants to do to me.
I’ve been frustrated in the past by men who treat me like a piece of glass, who ask me what I want instead of taking charge and giving me what I really need. Diego’s words aren’t idle warnings—they’re promises of pleasure and pain that make my body sing, and he’s barely touched me.
Diego pushes his erection against my ass, the thick rod pressing into my crack. He’s still stroking me, playing with me, pushing me closer to the edge.
He watches me in the mirror, satisfaction and cocky arrogance coloring his features. “You’re close, aren’t you, Elena? You’re so fucking wet. I can feel you … I can smell you.”
Embarrassed heat flushes me to the roots of my hair, and I let out a soft moan. I am close … so close I’m breathless with it, arching and straining into his hand.
“Yes,” I croak, shaking and stiffening as I feel an orgasm building. “Oh, God.”
Diego smiles—really smiles—for the first time since I met him, and snatches his hand from between my legs. The building spasms in my core vanish, and I’m left with fluttering pangs that make me double over and clutch the vanity.
He grabs my hair and wrenches me back up, his smile wiped away. He glowers at me through the mirror, cruelty and dominance rolling off him in tangible waves.
“I won’t tell you again. I’m in control here, gatita, not you. I decide when you can have my cock, and I decide when you get to come.”
He lets me go, and I nearly drop to my knees. Diego stands back and says nothing as I run from the bathroom, shaken and turned inside out. Rifling through my meager clothes, I find pajamas and throw them on. Then, I dive into bed and try to steady my breathing.
By the time Diego comes to bed, I’ve quieted myself enough that I can fake sleep. I feel the bed dip when he climbs in beside me. In the quiet darkness, I wait with bated breath for him to fall asleep.
I lay there for what feels like hours, listening to Diego toss and turn. The pills don’t seem to be working, and I can hear him huffing and sighing in frustration.
I’ve nearly nodded off when he leaves the bed, cursing under his breath. My eyes flare open, and I listen to him pad to the bathroom, clicking the light on.
Heart in my throat, I turn over so I can see what he’s doing. He didn’t bother to close the door, probably thinking I fell asleep hours ago. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of pajama pants and staring at himself in the mirror. In the light of the bathroom, I can finally make out his back tattoos. It’s a battle scene of angels versus demons, flames rising up to engulf them from below, and beams of light shining from above. The Virgin Mary looms over it all, holding an infant Jesus in her arms as one tear rolls down her cheek. It’s a beautiful piece, and I can’t imagine how much time it took, how painful it must have been. It makes me curious over the depths of the man beneath the outward shell. His tattoos hint at a deep belief in Catholicism, but he obviously isn’t deeply religious. That would be in direct contradiction with his lifestyle