Page 87 of Cartel Devil

The words tumble out of my mouth, and I mean all of them. She hasn’t told me to leave, and she’s spoken of the future too. But I fear all this focus on the future will be too much for her after the danger we faced this morning. That she’ll come to her senses.

“Joaco, relax. I don’t know what you’re worrying about, but you just got super tense. Am I doing it wrong?”

“If you do it any more right, you’ll give me a heart attack. I’m trying not to come.”

“You’re trying not to worry about something. Just enjoy this, please. Let me do something for you.”

I don’t want to ruin the moment. I stroke her ass and hip as her hand works my cock. Kissing her clears my mind. She’s all I can think about, and it’s not out of panic.

It’s pure fucking bliss.

“I want to be inside you, Tre. I want to feel your pussy sucking me in.”

“I want to feel how full you make me. I want your cum trapped inside me. I want to know I made you come.”

“Only you, chica.”

“Only you, Daddy.”

If we weren’t in a hospital and the doctor hadn’t hinted we should abstain, we’d be fucking right now.

No, not fucking.

Making love.

What I want with her right now transcends physical pleasure. I want a melding of the minds and souls, not just our bodies.

My hips rock against her as I squeeze her ass once more before trailing my fingers over her belly and up to her tits. I brush my thumb over her puckered nipple until I can tweak it.

“Is it too tender?”

“No. It feels amazing.”

I knead the mound in my hand before pinching and lightly tugging her nipple. I go back and forth until her breath brushes against my throat with each moan. It causes me to shiver, and my cock pulses.

“I’m going to come.”

“I wish I could go down on you and swallow you.”

The image that conjures pushes me over the edge. I pull her hospital gown above her waist, and she aims my cock at her belly. My cum sprays across her middle. She pulls back enough to see the evidence that she got me off—way faster than I wanted. I wanted to enjoy the pleasure longer, and I didn’t want to be a two-pump chump. But she got me way too worked up.

She trails her finger through the cum then licks it. I watch her, and I’m ready to go again. But I see a wave of fatigue wash over her face, and I know she fights a yawn. I wipe her belly with her gown before tucking myself back into my pants. I’m certain a nurse will be in here soon to check her vitals. I pull the covers up and try to get as comfortable as I can on the cramped bed.

My stitches hurt like a motherfucker after that. I keep telling myself to ignore them. I don’t want to remind Tre that I’m injured too. She’ll fuss and insist I take something to ease the pain. I’ll refuse. I don’t want to cause an argument. The pain’s unpleasant, but it reminds me that I’m not just here to keep my girlfriend company. We’re here because someone hurt her. I’m here to protect her.

“Sleep, chica. Let me hold you.”

“Rocco, calm the fuck down.”

Tre’s reaching out her hand as though she can hold her cousin back if he lunges at me. I was awake when her family arrived, but she was still asleep. I’d been awake for hours, and I was peacefully watching her until they showed up and shattered the little peace we’ve had.

“You grow up here and not a single person attacked you. You go to New York, and you’re safe there. Come back with that stronzo, and you’re being mowed down by a car.”

Asshole.

I know what it means because the Mancinellis have called me that enough times to recognize it.

Vaffanculo.