The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)(32)
Revenge burned through my veins. I thought I’d spontaneously combust at any second. In one fluid movement, I lifted my knee and rammed it into his groin as my hand propelled toward his face, aiming for his eye. I missed his eye, but his knees buckled when I connected with his groin.
I didn’t waste one second to study the aftermath of my burst of sudden psychosis. I darted into the jungle, trudging through green undergrowth twisting up my bare legs with every step. I wasn’t stupid. He’d catch me and punish me, or worse, but I refused to become his docile pet until he discarded me however he or Ignacio deemed appropriate. Fuck that. Fuck him and his f*cking layers.
With every hard-fought step, stifling, humid heat coated my skin like a wet shroud. Right then, I promised if I ever made it out of this godforsaken jungle alive, I’d never step foot out of America again. Dirt smeared my legs, and green streaks stained my clothes, but that was the least of my worries.
Ryker’s footsteps echoed behind me, strong and steady, closing the distance between us with every stride. Branches snapped under my feet, and hundreds of insect legs crawled over my skin, but I didn’t give up. I’d force him to struggle for every inch he gained in our battle of wills, until bone weary exhaustion haunted both of us.
Not long had passed and he was less than an arm’s length away. I lunged forward putting all my strength into a singular crowning push, but he moved too quickly. Within seconds, his unyielding arms shackled my waist like thick bands of iron. The front of his body cradled my back in a simulated lover’s embrace, injecting a feverous bolt of lust directly into my heart. Damn him. Damn me. Damn this godforsaken bug infested jungle. Damn my life.
He pressed his mouth against my ear and shivers cascaded down my damp skin. “Are you done now? How many times are we going to play this game of hide and seek?”
“Until I win,” I said through panting breaths, heat already spiraling down my body straight to the apex of my thighs.
He yanked my body even closer to him and his mouth curled into what I imagined would resemble a wickedly sensual smile to the casual observer. I couldn’t see it, but I felt it on the side of my face. “Hattie, baby, it’s not going to happen. Wave the white flag and save both of us some time.” His voice was smoky and dark, and it both tempted and repelled me.
Seething at him and myself, I opened my mouth and closed it at least two times, before I responded. “I guess we’re destined to keep playing this game, because I won’t give in until I’m dead or free.” The strength of my words stiffened my spine, and I arched away from him.
“You don’t mean that,” came his velvety response as he wrenched my hips against his pelvis again. His hips rolled against mine in a scandalously erotic movement, and I whimpered, loving and hating the heat percolating between my legs from nothing more than a roll of his hips and the sound of his voice.
“No. Please don’t.” My control fractured second by second, breath by breath, with every brush of his hands and flex of his hips. “Let me go,” I screamed. My fingers clawed at his arms and my hair whipped around my face as I frantically shook my head from side to side. I needed to get away from him before I did something really stupid like beg him to touch me again. I was one flex of his hips away from becoming his plaything. “You make me sick.” I couldn’t show him how much he affected me. The repercussions were unthinkable.
“Liar.” In one unexpected movement, he pushed my shorts and panties down my legs and shoved me to my knees. Dirt dug into my scabbed over knees. I tried to stand up or crawl forward, but it was pointless. Ryker had one arm around my waist, imprisoning me.
“This is my game, Hattie, and until I let you go, I own you.” His hand burrowed under my shirt and dove under the constraints of my suddenly too tight bra. I arched my back and pressed against the erection already straining against his zipper.
“You’ve ruined my life,” I screamed as lust flowed like lava through my body.
Manhandling me, he rolled one of my nipples between his thumb and index finger and then pinched the over-sensitized tip. “No, your life was ruined long before you met me.” He growled next to my ear like the predatory jaguar I’d imagined him to be minutes earlier. “I’m the first honest voice in your life.” He clutched my hips tight, rocking them mercilessly against his erection. My anger melted into intoxicated desire.
“No, you’re a bastard. I don’t want anything to do with you.” As the dishonest words spilled from my mouth, I cursed the traitorous throbbing sensation roaring unchecked through my nerve endings, connecting them in an intricate web of desire. His fingertip glided the entire length of my entrance back and forth and around and around, teasing me, massaging me. Moans and groans tumbled unbidden from my mouth, saying more about my sick, conflicted need for him than words ever could.
“Your mouth lies even as your body screams the truth.” He slid one finger inside my pulsing sex, and my hips undulated, blooming like a flower under the warm afternoon sun. My body didn’t lie. I wanted him.
“No,” I said, but the word sounded more like a greedy moan than a protest. My mind had already escaped the confines of my head, flying high on the endorphins pumping through my veins. I pushed my ass against his hands, needing more than his finger. I craved the feel of him inside of me again. I’d only had him once, and alcohol clouded the memory. I needed to know if being with him was as good as I remembered, and if it wasn’t, maybe I’d stop wanting him.