Corrupt - Elena M. Reyes Page 0,1

her as I return and slip the tip of my middle finger inside. None when I go a little deeper to my knuckle; pumping it in and out a few times before adding a second.

Solimar’s lips part, but no words come out. Instead, her arms wrap around my neck and pull us closer together. She’s baiting me with the subtle rubbing of those tight little pebbled nipples over my pecs, and I bite back the groan that threatens to escape.

It’s a silent plea from her with a hint of please that makes my mouth water. My little flower always begs so prettily. Quietly or on a scream, she’s stunning when offering:

Her life. Her love. Her loyalty.

A commitment without an expiration date. A future that removes her past and those who reside in it. Those who will become nothing more than a faint memory.

Because I’m her future. Her only.

“Say. It.” The need to bury myself deep within her is near maddening, and more so when her tight little asshole flutters around my fingers. It’s the only place I haven’t taken her. The last bit of her body left for me to claim, and it will happen before the end of the night.

“I belong to you, Alejandro. Only you,” she moans out, lips parting just enough to see the tip of her tongue peek out. I follow how she slides it over the very edge of her Cupid’s bow. How her cheeks flush and perspiration beads over her neck. “I love you.”

At those words, my eyes close and I breathe in deeply. A unique scent—her sweet, sugary decadence surrounds me, and I groan. I feel her heat. Her wetness as it seeps through and caresses my cock through my slacks sans underwear.

I’m hard for her.

I’m throbbing.

I’m hers.

My hips snap forward and my dick rubs against the juncture of her thighs, finger slipping a bit deeper inside her puckered hole. There are a few por favor and mas, but I don’t give in. Not yet.

Not here.

We’ll be leaving soon enough.

That thought sobers me at once and after another pump, I slip from inside her tightness. My forehead falls to hers and my eyes snap open just as she whines, her pretty mouth set in a pout. “None of that.”

“But Alejandro—”

I silence her with a quick and harsh kiss. “I love you, too.”

Her grey eyes sparkle, bottom lip trembling. “Baby, I—”

The click of a single gun interrupts our moment, and I shift my head minutely to catch the sight of the asshole responsible. It’s a man I loathe. Someone whose history with my family brought us full circle and to this moment.

“You’re a dead man, Lucas,” he says, and my smirk only deepens.

“Good evening, Señor Presidente.”

1

Fifteen years ago...

I AWAKE WITH a start.

I’m sweating. In a daze. Unable to comprehend the sudden ambush of loud noises surrounding me and look toward the alarm clock on my nightstand. It reads twenty past eight in the morning, and I try to remember if there’s anything to warrant such a rude upstart—a project starting on the grounds or equipment arriving—but come up empty.

There’s too much racket to pinpoint. Too much commotion to discern what it is, but it confuses me, and everything seems off—almost eerie until the loud sound of what I think is a truck meeting a wall forces me out of my bed.

My house shakes and I stumble, fighting to find my equilibrium as more shouting comes from the opposite side of our family home. This large, Spanish-style house with over a hundred acres surrounding the two-story, eight-bedroom structure has several large cultivating fields whose product is known worldwide. And, because of its size, it should be nearly impossible for me to hear what sounds like a war zone outside this bedroom.

None of these noises are familiar in the everyday life of a rancher. None of what they’re shouting makes sense.

“What the fuck is going on?” I mutter, grabbing on to the door’s handle and pulling it open. Another loud boom reverberates, and the corridor feels as though it’s trembling, the picture frames—photographs of my siblings and me from over the years—meeting their demise against the terrazzo floor. Are we having an earthquake? Fuck, my family! Shards of glass fly across the floor and as I rush toward the stairs to head down, I cut the bottom of my foot on a rather large piece.

It digs deep, slicing through flesh that now gapes and bleeds all over the floor. Rivulets rush to the surface, staining the