DIABLO INSIDE Read online

  The scent is intoxicating. The taste, heaven. The feel—I’ll never get the feel of Aria’s pussy off my mind.

  My dick strains at the thought of plunging in. I press my mouth over her slick walls, frenching her pussy. Each stroke of my tongue sends Aria’s hips rising off the bed. Like a glass of fine black-label rum from her pussy, her essence tips farther down my throat.

  “Dom,” she moans.

  I dwell inside of her walls, feasting on her orgasm. She writhes beneath me, hips bucking, again calling my name. When Aria’s voice begins to break, I stiff tongue her pussy one last good time before peeking up between her thighs. My gaze warns that this won’t be quick. It might get a bit turbulent, depending on her shouts as I fuck her, though.

  “Dominic!” She falls back onto the bed, body flushed.

  Hands finding her wrists, I stop her from scraping the sheets. She gasps as I settle into position, pinning her beneath me. I let her go. My mouth moves down the curve of her neck, while I roll a condom onto my manhood. Between us, I caress my thumb in slow circles around her clit. The incredible tightness of her pussy clenching at my tongue warns me to pull out the extra stops. But the sensations already have her panting and bucking.

  “Mami, no tensing.” I smile down at Aria, feeling the want radiate off her skin. She will please me, but with a pussy this tight, I have my work cut out for me. Work, meaning Aria Jones is switching categories. From the quick, hard distraction we both agreed to . . . to . . . I’ll say when we’re done.

  With that thought in mind, I thrust inside of her in one fluid motion.

  “Shit-fuck!” Aria screams. Her hands claw back into the sheets. I anchor her wrists above her head, cock tearing through her pussy again.

  Lifting, I leverage myself to batter her. Each thrust drives my dick home with the precision of perfect practice. Spreading her legs wider, I fuck her like a champ. My hands may offer the tenderness she wanted to deny herself, but my cock plows her cunt, dedicating the depths of her walls to me.

  Her gasping moans tickle along my neck. My hunger, a horrible pulsating need, strikes her cervix. I breathe against her. “Spread your legs wider, chula.”

  I jerk her harder against me, plunging to the hilt until her heart thunders in her breasts. My palm stabilizes the small of her back, and Aria cums, grinding against my erection. As my junk settles at the entrance to her womb, her pussy clenches down just as it had on my tongue. Her channel gushes with fluid, pulsating around me.

  Skin flushed in ultimate satisfaction, Aria looks me in the eyes, shivering beneath me. An unfamiliar emotion swells in my chest. It’s more than the pride of hearing, seeing, feeling a woman become putty beneath me. Throwing my head back, a raw exhale breaks free. I fist my cock, dragging it around her saturated lips.

  “Keep your legs wide, mami,” I order. Though, my next command won’t be for her punishment.

  In ecstasy, her head falls back. She gives a yummy moan as my cock slides into her delicious pussy. I grasp her curvaceous thigh, slowing my speed, worshiping the velvet hollow. To satiate the urgency in me, I clamp her calf legs over my shoulders, focusing on her raw whimpering.

  With each stroke, my shaft defines her pussy, my name written on her slick walls. I’m here. I’ve ruined her, shaped, and stretched the depth of her, for any man that comes after me. Envy constricts my muscles.

  Fuck that, this pussy of hers and I will meet again. I drop a kiss on her panting lips, our bodies continuing to collide. Aria claws at my forearms as I stoke her clit with the head of my cock, then glide in again.

  “Dominic, I’m not gonna make it.” She pants, licking her lips. Aria unleashes my name, again and again, legs trembling around my neck.

  I clamp my hands around her waist and whisper across her glistening flesh. “I’ll watch you come undone again.” Fuck quick, hard. She took the pounding of my cock earlier. She’ll take all this dick until I say we’re done.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ARIA

  “Hard, hard, please, hard. . .” I groan. Rolling pulses of ecstasy cruise through me. With each lavish stroke of his cock, the orgasm in me builds like never before. It hits a peak, climbs, and hits another peak. “Dominic.” I pant, delirious.

  I want to tell him to stop. My body feels like it’s levitating, and my brain didn’t get the memo. He’d given me a hard, dangerously hard, pounding. And he’d no doubt given it to me quickly. On most occasions, I’m not afforded half an O-face. But damn Dominic Alvarez. It’s like he pressed liftoff, and my sex rocketed in the time it takes a jet to launch into outer space.

  He moves at a powerful, steady pace, unrelenting to my needs, but knowing exactly what I crave.

  “Oh, I hate you. I hate you.” My head writhes. My hips glide to match his tantalizing movements. He bites down on my calf, and I whimper my hate. My traitorous sex becomes juicy and slippery. Fingers fumbling at his massive biceps, I claw his skin, panting and drowning. It feels like he’s surrounding me, coming from everywhere. He has me so high that I’m torn between coming down and the tsunami of an orgasm siphoning together.

  I chew down on my bottom lip. With a teasing warm gaze, Dominic’s tongue flicks out. He captures my top lip into his mouth before his entire mouth engulfs mine, ceasing the whimpers. Just like that, my entire body is at carnal capacity. Seismic waves crash through us. Elation trembles through my veins. With the full weight of him fusing with me, I burst into a trillion tiny pixels. Dominic gives an animalistic grunt, saying my name. His smooth muscles provide amnesty to all the anxiety, fear, and guilt I’ve ever felt.

  Heart hammering in my chest, I close my eyes, biting back a surfeit of emotions. Seconds ago, I was a wreck. The orgasm slaughtered through me. Now, as Dominic matches my vigor, his dick throbs in an intense release. Energy pulses through me, like waking up in a lover’s embrace. Mesmerizing contentment I’ve never known sweeps over my skin.

  Gorgeous, hooded eyes shine down on me. His muscles crush me. My heart patters against the steel-plate of his chest. I stop myself from begging him to stay. Dominic rolls over and settles onto his side.

  In this precise second, with him no longer touching me, all his majesty becomes unbearable. So many times during sex, his dick compelled me to say crazy shit. Say promises, which would’ve been counterproductive to the ones I’m already bound to. We had our fun. Besides, Dominic agreed to my stipulations.

  I slide out the bed on my tippy toes, my sex throbbing in afterglow residuals from the depth and girth of his thrusts. I can hardly stare at Dominic as I stand at the foot of the bed, wrapping a robe around me.

  “I’ve seen every inch of your body, Aria.” He growls, realization dawning fast.

  “Why do you look so comfortable in my bed?” I force a smile. Sheesh, I’m a fake because my eyes are begging him to go.

  “Why did you get out? I sense you haven’t been fucked in a very long time.”

  “Heh.”

  Though Dominic’s emerald gems spark in rage, he tempts me. “Round two should do the trick.”

  “What?”

  “Put you to sleep.”

  I shove a hand through my disheveled hair. I’m not here for the banter. “I said quickie, Dom. I’m going to clean the kitchen after, ahem. Time to go. Okay?”

  I wait on bated breath for him to toss back a response in tandem with my request. “Dominic!”

  He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “Did I eat your pussy too quickly?”

  “You . . . enjoyed yourself.” I wrap my arms around my chest, protectively, guarding me against temptation. My tongue is ready to declare he was the best I ever had, in all categories. Roslyn has mentioned her frustrations with finding a man who excelled in every area, so I must be insane, kicking him out. However, I’d prefer to call myself resilient instead of plain-old crazy for the moves I’m making.

  “Mírame, Aria! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  I settle my gaze over Dominic’s left shoulder. I’m not bold enough to star
e at how his body consumes my massive bed. “You agreed to my terms. No questions.”

  “Okay, one question, mami?”

  “No.”

  “You thought I’d fuck and walk away, Aria?”

  I’m learning to hate his accent. It’s got my pussy lips tweaking, aftershocks of his dick. Out of my peripheral, the caramel-coated savage is sitting up in my bed, forking a hand through his waves. Ignoring him, I bend down to snatch up a pair of house shoes.

  “Aria!”

  “Hello, is that not your M.O.? Fuck and go? Besides, Dominic, I was your stalker. Who screws some creepy psycho?” Great, Aria, you called yourself a psychotic creeper.

  “Who are you stalking now?” Again, his sexy eyebrow juts upward.

  “Stop.” I fold my arms to comfort my flustered heart. “You are an astounding attorney, Mr. Alvarez.”

  He’s up on my bed, walking toward me and down in front of me in a flash. “I said, ‘who the fuck are you stalking now, mami?’ What had your mind a thousand miles away from here, earlier?”

  Chin high, I grit out, “Didn’t I tell you? I’m not answering questions, Dominic.”

  “You’re still chasing El Santo, aren’t you? Aren’t you!”

  The force of his tone vibrates my sex. This was a catastrophic mistake. I can go senile and never forget this one fuck. Angered by my thoughts, I snap. “I’m not on a stand, stop badgering me. Listen, I apologized for earlier. But that’s not why I’m—” Damn. I clamp my lips together.

  “Then what?” Dominic’s fingers trail across my collarbone, closing around my throat into a gentle hold. “We have a connection like crazy, Aria. I’m not letting you screw it up. You were about to open up. Finish your sentiment, mami.”

  “My twin sister, Re.” I open my mouth again, encouraging myself not to treat him like my therapist. For the first year, I blinked at Dr. Linde until she prompted me to bop her with a spongy bat. Hell, I tried to slaughter her with the damn thing. Dr. Linde was very nice about it.

  “Dominic, you can’t begin to comprehend the feeling of not knowing how your brother is fairing. You’ll never wonder.” I bite off the rage. A wave of emotion rocks straight through my core. Eyes sparkling, I beg. “Please don’t force me to ruin what we had. Walk away.”

  Anger bristles through him. The only movement he makes is the wave of tense muscles in his jaw.

  “Great, you fucked up this moment.” I hurl the insult at him, instantly hating myself for the statement. His glorious body fully naked, Dominic stands his ground.

  I bite my lip, keeping the tears at bay. “I’m sorry about your twin’s situation. But he’s there. I’m missing a piece of me. All I’m saying is, you’ll never know that feeling, Dominic. It’s the reason I can’t—” I stop myself. “Is this your attraction? Pity because my twin is gone?”

  “No, Aria.” His arms encircle my waist, and he slides me into the harbor of his strong body. “Chula, I can’t fathom your pain. I haven’t been close to Dario in ages, but as you said, he’s there.”

  “ReAnna’s not. She may-may have di-died,” I stutter, sobbing. “Died the same day I failed her. There are so many horrible scenarios that wrap around my brain, but I doubt she’s ever found love. Not saying I’m falling for—”

  “I’m falling for you, Aria.” He clasps my face. “You take your time, mami. I’ll be there to catch you when you start falling for me too.” His confidence brands my skin in an intense inferno so passionate I break. My wet cheeks nuzzle against his chest, but he claims me tighter, stronger than I could ever imagine.

  ReAnna, I can’t apologize to your spirit anymore. I want to be happy.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  El Santo

  My whole body burns with fury, fingers closing around the hilt of my knife. I’m on fire. No, I am the fire. Darkness crystalizes into a dozen serrated shards as I await Angelica’s response. The only light flickers across her face while she watches the screen of my cellphone.

  “Which is it, gordita,” I grit. “Are they screwing or arguing? Don’t focus on my knife. Focus on my blade cleaving you open from sternum to navel if you don’t answer my question!”

  “They . . . made up.” Angelica’s bottom lip quivers.

  After slamming my knife into the holster, I run a hand along the mask covering my face. A panted gasp rushes through me, staying the intensity of LeAnna’s disloyalty. The mariposas were a sign.

  I snatch the iPhone from Angelica’s trembling hands. Time stands still as the scene unfolds—LeAnna let El Diablo inside.

  “She made a big fucking mistake with the cabrón. Biggest mistake of her life,” I murmur, climbing on top of Angelica. “LeAnna will undoubtedly pay later. For now, you don’t mind being a tribute, sí?”

  Hands fly toward me. Her fingers seek the mask on my face. They always want to know who, sooner or later. The back of my hand sends a smack so hard to her fleshy cheek she reels. I pounce, my fingers ground down on her throat.

  Angelica clutches for air. The second her eyes flicker upward, I anchor her into reality. Her huge, floppy breasts heave as she breathes in air. Again, my upper body leaps into position to steal her oxygen. Over and over, we engage in a game where I delight at the power in my hands. The influence to send her soul into the next realm.

  “The assailant spends a lot of time with his victims, indicative of a lot of thought, possible rehearsal. This is a sophisticated criminal, a sophisticated crime.” The first documentary came out after my fourth ángel. I hadn’t been given the name yet. But the media craved a category, serial killer.

  Wrong fucking category. My ángeles are not dead; they’re evolved. Before, I’d only murdered once, and LeAnna would be the reason I upped my body count. Six ángeles were rededicated when the media almost understood who I was. My ángeles remind me of Alejandra in looks and mannerisms. They are smart, gorgeous women. Alejandra died in my arms. Because I couldn’t save my amor, I save them all now. My ángeles defy death because of me. During my rituals with each of them, it’s as if I have a second chance with Alejandra.

  They named me El Santo, which is fitting. Still, they added further accusations such as the “murderer enjoys the thrill of the hunt.”

  They were wrong. Saving my ángeles took dedication, time, and sacrifice. I imagine myself cleansing the pure skin of my last ángel as Angelica’s skyrocketing heart tapers. Tears transform her gaze into dark brown jewels.

  I let go.

  Air whooshes across my hands as she sucks in oxygen. Fuming over the torture of Angelica describing LeAnna’s betrayal, I descend on her again. The gordita’s erratic pulse slams into my palms as I choke her. The beat dims beneath my fingertips. Her heavy breathing shallows. She won’t endure much longer.

  I press my lips to her silenced ones. “See, mami, not dead.”

  Leaving Angelica’s unconscious body on the bed, I heft my black backpack from near the window where I’d climbed inside. I pull out a roll of duct tape. Cracking my neck, I stare at the mound in her bed. Why did I pick the fat one? Damn, the puta was easy, emotional prey. With a shrug, I bind Angelica up then go about the process of cleaning her home.

  Late last night, I scrubbed every surface of Angelica’s home, eliminating any signs that I entered. Then I cleaned more because Dominic hadn’t left LeAnna’s home yet. They’d washed the dishes, tossed suds. Fucked. Ate. They committed more sins while I left Angelica’s home tidier than it had been when I arrived.

  It’s the next night when Angelica screams her head off. The room she’s in is devoid of any light. Even on a sunny day, no illumination would touch her. Her new home is located in the center of an old factory near the port in Downtown Miami. I’d owned it for years. I’d thought of turning it into lofts lining the ocean.

  Then the first ángel required a temporary home.

  With Angelica inside the room, I open and close the rusted steel door. I make a show out of it while shouting, “Nobody can hear you!” My voice washes out every time the door
slides shut. She’s in the centermost room of the factory, which is over thirty thousand square feet. Only about five thousand of it had gone through some reconstruction before my accident. But her area isn’t it.

  When I open the door again, she’s stopped shouting.

  “Thank you, gordita.” I walk in, holding a brown paper bag of food. The scampering sound of rodents moves around the perimeter. “Get the fuck outta here!” I growl, though unable to see them through the darkness.

  “Please, please . . .” Angelica begs.

  “I know, I know, my sweet gordita. I promised not to murder you.” I squat down to her level and light a match. The dank, ocean-salted air draws at the light. The flame dances between us. I puff at the light, laughing softly. Then I remove a tiny flashlight from the back of my jeans.

  “Which do you prefer, Angelica?” I flick the light on, pointing it toward the bag of food. “To see in darkness. Only God’s light can dim pure darkness, Angelica—”

  “Fu—”

  My forearm slams her throat. “My mami would be shocked at us discussing God in the same breath as cussing. Okay. So, flashlight or food? Por favor, which one?”

  She drops her head against the cement wall as more tears and snot stream down her face.

  I lay the flashlight on its base; faint light spears up toward the peeling ceiling. I light another match, grab a hand-rolled cigarette, and roll my mask up for a pull.

  Angelica wipes the water from her eyes to stare at me.

  “You wanna see me, chula?” I puff smoke in her face.

  “No,” she sobs. “I don’t want to know who you are.”

  “Although you knew the name of the man who has my LeAnna in a state of confusion. Sí?”

  Her head dips up and down.

  My lips form another o. Like a chimney, smoke plumes into her face, and she coughs.