The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)(23)
My brain scrambled to process his question, but it came up empty. I should’ve been focused on a plan of escape, but Ryker’s attentions didn’t leave room for plotting. Instead, I concentrated on the heat of his mouth, branding my sensitive flesh, speculating what his mouth would feel like pressed on other parts of my body.
He parted my thighs and positioned himself between them. I should’ve pushed him away, but I spread them further, rolling out the welcome mat. Come and get me. I’m so stupid.
His hand slid from my breast all the way down my stomach, hovering, teasing, and waiting for I didn’t know what. Then, I remembered I never answered his question, and I wouldn’t. I’d never give voice to my lust for him. Never.
One of my hands found his shoulder and the other circled his wrist, sliding it lower. He resisted, and I felt like dying. And then his eyes caught mine, holding me hostage. “Answer,” he murmured, his finger dipping less than an inch lower.
I shook my head. “I can’t say it.” My eyes pleaded with him, locking us in a silent tug of war. Eyes flashed. Lips curled. No other words were exchanged. He refused to give me what I wanted, and I refused to give him what he wanted. I would have rather burned up in flames than surrendered the last sliver of my dignity to him.
Just when I convinced myself he’d leave me unfulfilled, he dropped to his knees, and I whimpered realizing exactly what he planned to do. His tongue grazed the length of my slick entrance and a surge of forbidden electricity ripped through my body. “Oh,” I moaned as my head fell forward. At that instant, my body welcomed the diversion he promised in his wicked gaze.
He licked, nibbled, and everything between until I became a boneless, moaning version of myself I didn’t recognize. I pressed my eyes closed, so I didn’t have a visual to go with my body’s betrayal of my soul. I couldn’t explain why I let him—no, begged him to do this—but the words or desire to stop him evaded me, shimmering so far out of reach I had no choice but to surrender.
Lost in the moment, I lifted my hips to encourage him. I started to slip off the counter, but his hands dug into my hips, shoving me back until my back hit the mirror. His finger circled my sex, and I clenched so tight the sugary bliss of pleasure spiraled through me, but it didn’t compare to the second when he closed his mouth over me again, stealing my very essence. My body no longer belonged to me.
Tremors cascaded down my spine, and any last ounce of willpower I possessed splintered into a million pieces. Desperate, I buried my hands in his hair, squirming toward him, making sure he didn’t renege on the promises he made with every indecent stroke of his tongue and flick of his skilled fingers.
Blood pounded through my head, and I forgot everything but the wildfire raging inside of me. Then, out of nowhere, he slid two fingers inside of me, and I came apart. My body shook with spasms of pleasure so deep that I felt it in my bones. Every time I thought it was over, another tremor rocked through me until I was utterly exhausted.
And there it was…another orgasm courtesy of Ryker, my captor. My enemy. My tormentor. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for the guilt and self-loathing to swallow me. Unbidden, tears erupted from my eyes, and emotionally, I was right back where I started after Ignacio cut me; except now, everything was worse. Much worse.
I inhaled, trying to pull giant mouthfuls of air into my lungs, but it felt as though a vise grip was slowly, inexorably tightening around my chest with every passing tick of the clock.
“Nice work,” I snarled, shoving him away from me with wild, shaky hands. I stuffed my arms through the discarded robe, squeezing it closed at the base of my neck as though it were a bulletproof vest, sheltering the last pieces of my dignity from his eyes.
He wiped the tears from my face with the palm of his hand, and at any other time, with any other guy, I might have believed the gesture was thoughtful…romantic even. The little I knew of Ryker told me there was a far simpler answer. Most likely, he didn’t appreciate the inconvenience of my tears.
“Work?” he questioned, his voice deceptively soft, his gray eyes mesmerizing.
“Yeah, like the night at the bar you used sex to distract me.” My body trembled from the overwhelming emotions poisoning my mind and body.
“Did it work?”
With those words, he destroyed me. Silence would have been better than that. My flash of angry rebellion melted into pathetic sobs. I dropped my head to my chest, and my arms circled my body, trying to hold the shattered pieces of my soul together. I’d rather he sliced me with a knife over and over than use sexual warfare as his weapon of choice. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around me, comforting me, and I let him. Slowly, he rocked me back and forth for I didn’t know how many agonizing seconds, then carried me once again to his bed.
The minute my body touched the mattress, I curled into a ball, a limp effigy of my former self. I closed my eyes, shutting out the world around me and welcoming the darkness whispering my name.
The mattress dipped under Ryker’s weight as he stretched out beside me. I braced for his touch, but it never happened. Gratitude and disappointment collided inside of my heart, confusing me even more. I funneled my anger toward him, tossing silent accusations in his direction from the safety of my cocooned mind and shuttered eyes. And yet, he didn’t notice. Like a seductive menace, he lazed next to me, unmoved and uncaring, his very presence stealing my air and safety.