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)
And she did, sinking down and shuddering around him. He grunted as she eased up and down, slowly, tenderly, hips circling and hands planted on either side of his head. He stroked her tits, leaned up to suck on her nipples, his balls tightening with blissful pressure.
His eyes never left hers as she moved over him, her cunt clamping down and stealing his thoughts, his breaths, and every tormented ache inside him. In that exquisite moment, there was only her and him, the tight warm clench of her body, and the glorious sight of her riding his dick.
He reached for her hands and held them against his chest, held onto her gaze. “You want to be owned.”
“By you? Forever. Promise me.”
His heart swelled. “Sí prometo.”
When she came, she took him with her in a detonation of electricity that left him with no doubt who owned him, body and soul.
Four months later.
THE REEK OF CIGARETTE SMOKE and the clinking sounds of china swirled around Camila, mingling with the gentle breeze that drifted across the veranda. Her insides vibrated with the murmuring voices of forty men—dangerous men—but none as powerful as the one stroking her thigh.
Matias Restrepo owned every person in the room, but she was the only one who owned his heart.
She reclined in the chair between him and Nico, her belly full after an exorbitant five-course dinner, and pulled a long draw from her beer. She looked forward to these gatherings now that she didn’t have to spend them on her knees. In fact, no one knelt on the floor anymore.
At her request, Matias had banished all of the imprisoned slave traders to the west wing. There, Frizz could sew up their orifices and Matias could sell them off at will. She supported whatever punishments were inflicted as long as she didn’t have to look at it while she was eating.
That wasn’t the only change that had happened since Matias had announced her as his equal.
As it turned out, Yessica hadn’t been able to keep her hands to herself. Two weeks after the conversation by the pool, she propositioned Matias in the hall with her hand on his cock. He told Camila about it after he transferred Yessica—along with every resident prostitute he’d ever fucked—to his compound in Mexico. Sadly, that left only a couple women at the estate.
Camila was working on rectifying that. She’d recruited her old roommates in Texas to join her here. Now that she’d taken over Matias’ anti-slavery operation, she needed more people she could trust. Her friends were hesitant, but considering the offer.
Tate sat across the table from her, listening to Chispa enthusiastically explain how to make a woman squirt. With a chuckle, Tate slid his eyes to her and winked. She shook her head, smiling.
He’d visited her a couple times in the last few months, but this time, he was just stopping by on his way to Peru, where he intended to follow up on Matias’ investigation into Lucia’s death. Her heart punched full-speed toward hope, but Matias tried to keep that reined in. He didn’t want Tate’s confirmation to bring her more grief.
She glanced at the man who protected her soul as much as her body. His muscled arm lay across her lap, his thumb stroking the denim on her inner thigh. In his reclined position, his brawny chest stretched the cotton of his black t-shirt. A foot rested on the knee of his opposite leg, drawing her gaze to the delicious way his jeans cupped the bulge of his cock.
When she looked up, his eyes were on her, invading, pressing deep inside her, into places only he could reach. Places that feared him as much as loved him. But she no longer had to carry those vulnerabilities alone. He wanted all of her, cherished every one of her weaknesses and strengths. And whenever she offered herself to him, put herself fully into his hands, he silenced her doubts and insecurities.
The expression he wore now looked as if he wanted to invade her in a different way. His gaze heated with golden flames, his arms and torso flexing, seemingly restless. Wide shoulders, trim waist, hard abs—it was all there, one layer of clothes away from stealing her breath.
Without warning, he stood and threw back the last gulp of his aguardiente. “Buenas noches, guys.”
Then his hand was around hers, dragging her away from the veranda. She jogged to keep up, her pulse sprinting with excitement. Damn his dangerously flirty fuck me eyes, but she couldn’t get back to their suite fast enough.
He didn’t release her until they reached the bedroom. She made a beeline to the bed, stripping her clothes as frenzied need stretched inside her, heating under her skin and throbbing between her legs.
She dropped her blouse, jeans, and removed her undergarments, her back burning from the heat of his gaze. But he hadn’t followed her?