Black Hearts (Sins Duet #1)

As I slide her leggings down, she says, “In three weeks. I want to finish the semester first. I’ll feel horrible if I quit right now.”

“The last thing I want is you to feel guilty when you shouldn’t,” I tell her, running my hand between her legs. She’s so fucking wet it makes my mouth water. It’s going to be hard to take this slow, all the violence and fear and nerves are running wild inside me, dying to come out.

“Is your name really Vicente Cortez?” she asks, her voice breathless, throaty.

I pause, my fingers aching to dip inside her. “No.”

“What is it?”

I take my chances. “Vicente Bernal.”

She sucks in her breath.

An eternity seems to stretch between us.

Finally she exhales. “Your father. Was he Javier Bernal? That’s his name right? I’ve heard of him.”

My fingers slide up and over her clit, then back down again. “Yes.”

“H-he…he…” Her breath hitches as I move. “He used to have control over the whole country. He was just as bad as El Chapo, he just never got caught.” She writhes back and forth.

“Bad. Or good. Depending who you talk to I say.” I hesitate. “Where did you hear that from?”

“The news I guess. I never really paid much attention.”

I slowly push my fingers inside her, making her back arch. A gasp escapes her lips.

“Just don’t tell your parents,” I say, before plunging them into to the hilt. “I don’t think they’d understand.”

She can’t even answer in words, just lets out an achingly beautiful moan.

It undoes me.

I unzip my jeans and bring out my cock, hot and throbbing in my palm, remembering to take an extra second to get the condom out of my pocket and roll it on.

She’s below me, waiting patiently, her hair a storm of birds around her, her perky tits with those perfect pink nipples begging to be sucked. My guns lie to the side of her strong, beautiful body; cold, hard steel next to soft white curves.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight in my life.

And I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on.

I will not last long.

The urgency hits me like a hammer and I quickly position my cock before grabbing her wrists and holding them above her head.

I push inside her, a sharp, hard thrust that makes me shudder all over, a hoarse grunt crawling up my throat. She cries out and I bury her mouth with mine as she starts rocking her hips up into me, wanting more.

“Harder, god, fuck me harder,” she says in hot little gasps.

I growl and start rutting into her, enough to make the bed shake and the sheets to pop off the mattress. Violet is wet down to her thighs, so wet that I keep slipping out. Every time I push back in, all the way to the thick base, I feel like I’m seeing heaven.

“You’re getting my cock so wet,” I murmur roughly, dipping my head down to bite at her nipple. “Such a desperate little bird.”

Her nails scratch and claw down my back like the frantic, wild animal she is and I fuck her harder and harder until my arms are shaking, my neck corded and tense as I try to hold everything back.

I don’t have to hold on for long.

She comes fast and violent, just like our fucking. Her eyes roll in her head and she shatters beneath me. My own release spirals out of control and I let go, nearly breaking her in half as I pound into her relentlessly, over and over and over until every last ounce of cum has pumped out of me.

Fucking hell.

I collapse onto my elbows, sweat slick between our chests, our hearts clashing against each other like warring drums. I look down at her face, damp and glowing, marred by bruised skin and danger.

She’s so beautiful. So precious.

So inherently destructive to everything that I am.

I know my feelings can’t be trusted at all. Maybe they never could be.

But I still have that terrifying feeling inside me, like a pill I just can’t swallow.

…I think I’m in love with her.





Chapter Nineteen





Javier




Javier hates lying to his wife.

He thought after twenty-something years of marriage that he’d be pretty good at it by now. After all, you can’t survive more than a day in this business without lying through your teeth about something. You become so skilled at it that you actually believe the lies yourself.

Javier believes nearly every lie he’s ever told. He almost believes the one he tells Luisa.

That Vicente will be back soon and all will be well.

It’s not that he won’t be back…Javier is making sure that he’ll be brought back one way or another. And Luisa knows this, that Vicente will kick up a fuss. But she wants him home, safe, and thinks once that happens, everything will go back to normal.

Javier finds this amusing, her need for routine and normalcy. I mean, what the fuck did she expect when she married him? But for all her partnership and influence in the business and his affairs – their affairs – Luisa has a soft heart that craves the simple life. A soft heart that he prays his son didn’t inherit.

And because of that, Javier has to lie to her.

She doesn’t know that it was because of Javier that Vicente set out to California in the first place. She doesn’t know she had her own hand in it. She doesn’t know it was all part of a plan.

Vicente didn’t know either.

Still doesn’t.

Oh, to be young and na?ve, full of unearned confidence.

Javier feels remorse snake through his body but then it’s gone. It never stays for long. It knows it’s not welcome.

He’s sitting in his office, drinking tequila, and staring into space. He’s waiting for news and when he’s waiting, he has too much time alone with his thoughts.

Thinking can be dangerous.

He laughs to himself, the sound reaching around the room.

It’s true. Too many thoughts mean too much introspection and that’s never been Javier’s strong suit. If he looks too closely, he doesn’t always like what he sees.