Page 99 of Sangre
“Don’t move. I want to undress you.” He shrugged off his clothes and boots and climbed on the bed, hovering over her. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her hungrily, his tongue pushing past her teeth delving deeper inside. As he kissed her, he undid the buttons on her tight leather top. Sangre’s fingers played with her nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. His mouth left hers then trailed down past her throat, landing on the swells of her breasts. He sucked the soft flesh, and she knew he was leaving his mark on her. She wanted him to cover her body in love bites claiming every inch of her bare skin.
Sangre slowly took her clothes off, piece by piece, kissing and caressing her skin as he revealed it. His gentle yet arousing movement stole her breath. Isla reached out and ran her fingers through his hair as his fingers slipped between her legs to tease the slick, puffy folds of her sex.
A throaty moan fell from her lips. “The sounds you make get to me,” he rasped.
A ball of fire rushed down her spine to right between her thighs. “I need you inside me.” She pulled his hair.
“Not yet, honey. We’ve got all night.”
Isla sank deeper into the mattress and let all sensations overtake her.
***
The following afternoonIsla sat on the couch, a book in hand and face scrunched up, writing lyrics for a new song that had come to her that morning. Her phone vibrated and she leaned over and picked it up.
Sangre:Dinner at 6?
Isla smiled. Sangre had gone into the office early that morning to help Eagle figure out the scheduling. He had told her that Saturday nights and Sunday mornings were when people called off work the most. She’d wanted to make him her famous pancakes, but she overslept and he was gone before she woke up.
Isla:Sounds good.
Sangre:Whatcha doing?
Isla:Writing a new song. U inspire me.
Sangre:And u fucking slay me. Later, babe.
Isla:xoxo
A large smile spread over her face and she picked up her pen and went back to writing. The chime of the doorbell broke her concentration, and she jumped up from the couch and went over to the door. Looking through the peephole, she chuckled when she saw Colt standing there. She swung open the door.
“Those girls of yours are killing it. Are they out of lemonade already?” She opened the screen door, motioning him to come in.
“What can I say? The customers love your lemonade.” Colt closed the door behind him. “Am I bothering you?”
“No. I was just writing a new song, but you actually gave me an excuse to take a break.” She went into the living room. “Have a seat. It won’t take me long to whip up another batch. Do you want something to drink while you wait?”
“I’m good. What’s your song about?”
“Love. Isn’t that what most songs are about?” Isla laughed. She bent down to pick up her notebook, and for some inexplicable reason, a finger of nausea poked her stomach. The room was perfectly quiet. She straightened up and turned around startled that Colt was right behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A dark thread of unexplained fear wove through her consciousness.
“I’ll make that lemonade now.” Colt took a step closer to her, pulled out an envelope from his shirt’s pocket, and handed it to her. “What’s this?” she asked, taking the envelope.
“It was delivered to our house by mistake.” His voice was strange and ominous.
Something told her she needed to get away from him. She tossed the envelope on the coffee table. “Wait here. I’ll be right back with a fresh batch of lemonade.” She turned to leave but he blocked her way.
Colt bent down and picked up the envelope handing it to her again. “Read it.”
Isla took the envelope in her shaking hands, her eyes widening when she saw the all too familiar handwriting on it. She looked at Colt and his gaze was cold. She ripped it open and took out the piece of notebook paper from inside. She read it: “Got you.” Isla’s hand flew to her mouth, suppressing a cry from her lips. Her heart hammered against her rib cage, and she jumped away from him.
Then he came for her.
