Page 9 of Cartel Devil

Chiquita. Little girl.

I heard Alejandro whisper that to Vittoria during the rehearsal yesterday afternoon and during the photos after the ceremony today. I thought it was sweet at the time since Alejandro’s the biggest of all the impressively large men in the Diaz family. He makes Vittoria seem little in comparison.

I’m nearly a foot shorter than Joaquin, so it makes sense. But it doesn’t strike me as a toss-away endearment for Alejandro or Joaquin. Just the opposite. It feels as personal as him calling me Tre.

He binds my wrists with the bow tie, and I tug just to see how tight it is. I can move them to keep from losing circulation, but I’m not getting loose on my own. He did something that’s more than just a regular knot. When he’s done, he places his massive palm over my sternum, his fingers sliding along my cleavage. He presses until I lean back, my arms extended over my head.

I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t him practically sucking my clit down his throat. I cry out, not in pain but surprise. I tuck my chin to see him, and he’s watching me intently. Gauging what I can take as his teeth capture it. He doesn’t bite, instead running his lower ones back and forth along the bundle of nerves. I draw my feet up to the edge of the mattress—or at least attempt to—so I can lever my hips upward.

But that’s not what Joaquin wants. He draws my legs over his shoulders before his arms slip beneath my thighs and wrap around to spread my cunt open for him to lick. He has me locked in the position he wants, and I’m here for it. He works my clit and cunt with his tongue, teeth, lips, and fingers until I’m begging to come.

“Not yet, chiquita. Later.”

“Later?!”

“When I’m inside you. When we can come together.”

“We can do this together. I can suck you off while you keep eating me out.”

“We can, but we won’t. As much as I’m certain I’ll enjoy my cock down your throat, right now, I want all my attention on you.”

How am I supposed to argue with that?

A guy who wants to give and doesn’t expect to receive in bed? I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. When his tongue slips inside me, I practically forget my name let alone offering to sixty-nine with him.

I struggle not to come when he brings me to the edge and doesn’t back off right away. I keep feeling the beginning of an orgasm starting, and that’s when he pulls away. I don’t know how he knows, but he does. Just when the frustration threatens to get the better of me, he rises. He strips off his pants and is about to push down his boxer briefs when he freezes.

“I don’t usually do hookups. I don’t have a condom.”

“I don’t do one—hookups either. I don’t have any, but I’m on birth control. I got tested after I broke up with my last boyfriend six months ago. I haven’t been with anyone since.”

I nearly say one-night stand, and I admitted I haven’t gotten any in six months. Marvelous.

“I test regularly too. Tre, I’ve never had sex without one.”

Somehow saying I’m popping his condom cherry doesn’t sound right.

I’ve had sex without condoms, but only when I’ve been in committed relationships. We stare at each other, and something passes between us. We’re both far more sober than we were when we got on the elevator. It’s not just the time that’s passed. It’s something about being with him and wanting to be alert for all of it—remember all of it.

My eyes practically pop out of my head when I see him naked. He drops his boxer briefs, and it’s not just his dick that impresses me. It’s the V-shaped grooves along his hip bones. The kind that makes women drool over models. It’s the indents along the sides of his ass that scream for my hands to hold onto as he fucks my pussy. It’s how his ass and upper thighs are still golden brown but not as tan as the rest of him.

He’s the ultimate male specimen.

He is masculinity at its finest without coming across as toxic.

He’s protective and possessive, for sure. I got a taste of that already, but from the way he’s been around the women in his family, nothing about him strikes me as misogynistic. Just the opposite. He’s definitely all touch her and die with the women he cares about, but I think he—like the other men in his family—is like that, so nothing can get in the way of the Diaz women being whoever and whatever they want.

It’s super fucking sweet.

It reminds me of the men in my family. I didn’t expect to see it in another one.

Then again, I don’t spend much time with other syndicates. Just the opposite. I avoid the Volkovs, Iglesiases, and O’Malleys like the plague. I suppose what I’ve seen of the Mancinellis during time with Serafina isn’t so different from what I’ve seen with the Diaz men.

He’s staring at me, and I realize I was supposed to respond. How the hell can my mind wander at a time like this?! There is something not right with me. There’s an insanely hot man who’s waiting to fuck me, standing in front of me, and I’m thinking about anything other than his dick inside me. But I’m into him for more than just his body. I take a breath and realize my squirrel moment was shorter than the time it would take to explain it.

“I’ve had sex without condoms but only when I’ve been in long-term relationships. Like I said, I tested after my last one ended.”

He appears to want to ask me something, but he thinks better of it. Instead, he climbs onto the bed and positions himself to be half propped up by pillows and the headboard. He reaches for me and helps me straddle him. I didn’t expect this position, not that I’m going to turn down riding him. He guides my hands to hold onto the headboard before I slide down his cock.