I drove for days and days, my eyes burning behind the wheel during the day. At night I cried and grieved.
Nearly everyone had died in that battle. Everyone except for Carlos.
It didn’t seem fair.
I didn’t want anything to do with the Gulf cartel – I blamed them as equally as I blamed Carlos. So I went to the Zetas. I had a few contacts there. I gave them everything I had on Carlos. Then I offered my own brand of services.
They paid me a large amount of money. The next day I killed Carlos, three shots into his head while he was sleeping in his leather armchair. The maid knew me and though she was surprised to see me back, she let me in.
I had to kill her too.
And now I had blood on my hands. But I didn’t care. When Carmen died, I lost the ability to care about anything except blood and vengeance. I lost my humanity.
Over the years I grew deeper and deeper into the circuit of cartels. I was loyal to no one except those that paid me the most. I became quick and efficient. There were better sicarios out there – there still are – but the cartels seemed to love the fact that I was white. They called me their G.I Joe. They liked that no one paid much attention to me, that no one ever looked for me. They liked that I didn’t care for politics or drama or fame. I did the job I was paid to do.
Well, except for that last one.
I was a lone wolf. I operated alone and I usually went to bed alone. If I was horny, finding a chick to fuck wasn’t hard. I always treated them nice enough but they never got anything from me other than a handful of orgasms.
I certainly never took them out on dates, or ordered room service in the afternoon with them or invited them to stay in my hotel room for an indefinite amount of time.
I never cared about them, not even a little bit. But I cared about Alana.
She was getting under my skin. She was awakening that dead husk inside of me.
She was becoming my second chance.
I couldn’t protect Carmen.
But maybe, somehow I could protect her.
I started by getting to know her body thoroughly.
While she sat there, cross-legged on the messy, sipping on a black coffee, I leaned forward and with one swift move, I undid the sash around her robe so a bronze line of skin from her chest to her pussy was exposed.
“Smooth move,” she commented, putting the coffee down.
I lifted the plate of food to the side. “Lie down,” I told her.
She raised her brow, inquisitive, but lay back on the duvet. I reached over and pulled her robe to the sides, exposing her more. She was so fucking amazing, a body built from the heavens.
I reached for the small metal pitcher of cream that came with the coffee and held it above her breasts.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a smile.
“I’m going to enjoy you and my breakfast at the same time,” I told her.
“That sounds a bit greedy.”
“That I can be.”
I grinned at her and then tipped just a bit of the cream until it poured out in a single stream, splashing between her breasts. She let out a gasp and a giggle and my dick twitched hungrily. The sight of the white creamy liquid spilled against her dark skin was hot as fucking hell. I wanted to come right on top of her to add to it but I ignored my urges for now.
I ran my finger between her breasts and licked it. Then I massaged it over her breasts and nipples before lapping the cream away like a cat.
“That was the appetizer,” I told her as I pulled away, my fingers still rubbing the rest of it into her skin. “Now for the main course.”
“Are you like this with every woman?” she asked me and though I could see in her bright eyes that it was a joke, it kind of dug deep.
“No,” I said quietly. “Not every woman. Only you. You’ve been the only one who has mattered in a very long time.”
She blinked, perhaps taken back by my honesty. I certainly was. I flashed her a smile and picked up a jar of honey. “Now, I can stop if you want me to,” I said, waving the jar at her.
“Don’t you dare stop.”
So I didn’t. I dipped my finger in the honey and began painting suns all over her skin. That’s what she reminded me of, the sun, shining always so big and bold. The darkness was always behind her, waiting to take her out, but most of the time she was this ball of warmth that seemed to melt everything bad away.
“You better get it all,” she said, closing her eyes and moaning as I stroked the honey between her legs. “Or else I’ll be left sticky.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m going to lick you clean then fuck you hard.”
Her eyes flew open, even more aroused now.
I ran my tongue all over the honey art on her body, making sure there was nothing sticky left, just enjoying the sweet taste of her and the nectar in my mouth. Then I put my head between her legs and lapped up the rest of it, sucking on her sweet folds and teasing the swell of her clit until her moans were so loud and I was drowning in salty sweet flavor.