“That’s right, baby. What’s my name?” He pounded into her.
“Oh, God.” She clawed at his back.
“God is good, aren’t I?”
“So good.”
She made him feel like a god. In her arms, under Martin’s heated gaze, he caught fire.
He’d never felt like this—free, wanted, happy, exactly where he belonged. With her. With Martin. Coming his fucking brains out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck!” He stared into her eyes as muscular spasms attacked his body, starting at his face and quaking down to his toes. Even his rectum contracted, squeezing in rhythm with the pulsing spurts of his cock. Heat and sweat spread over his skin and penetrated deep, saturating his insides from his balls to his nipples.
On a squeaky rusted cot, in the most violent prison in Latin America, he experienced the best orgasm of his life.
He rolled to his back, taking her with him. As she settled onto his chest, both of their heads turned toward Martin.
The brutal intensity of Martin’s eyes raked over them, stroking more than their bodies. He felt Martin reach inside him and curl around his soul.
He depended on that connection. He needed the completeness of all three of them, and he was so close. Tula reciprocated every touch, and Martin no longer felt like an impossible dream.
She lifted her hips, letting his softening cock slip out of her. “You annihilated my orgasm-less existence.”
“I would gladly do it again, every day, for the rest of my life.” He removed the condom and tossed it at the bag of trash in the corner.
Her gaze drifted back to Martin, and she tilted her head. “Do you…?” She glanced at his semi and returned to his eyes. “Masturbate?”
Martin’s lips bounced before surrendering a grin. “Yes, Tula. I’m quite proficient at it.”
“Do you want to do it now? Or I can—?”
“If I need to come, I’ll come.” He pushed off the wall and crawled to her. “You were devastatingly perfect tonight.”
He kissed her, nudging her onto her back as he bent over her. Soft and slow, he licked and nibbled and took his time.
Then he turned to Ricky and placed his hands on either side of Ricky’s head. His bright eyes filled with equal amounts of apology and affection. Then he pulled Ricky close and slid his tongue in Ricky’s mouth.
The languorous kiss curled warmth through Ricky’s chest, and by the time it finished, Martin left no doubt in Ricky’s mind that they’d only just begun.
They slid in on either side of Tula and twined their limbs with hers. Martin’s hand brushed Ricky’s bare hip, curled around his buttocks, and stayed there.
Ricky basked in that touch, in the nearness of this man and woman, in the three of them together.
As he drifted into sleep, forever sank into the crevices of his soul.The next month was the happiest month in Tula’s memory.
There had been no attacks on her or the guys. Hector’s security guard, Luis, had been released from prison. That meant fewer cartel meetings and more time with Martin and Ricky.
Her sex life had gone from nonexistent to nonstop, and the sex…
Sweet mother of Himeros, Ricky had unending stamina and talent. He was inside her every day, multiple times a day, in every position. Slow and fast, hard and gentle, they went at it so frequently she had to ask Garra for more condoms.
She’d never felt such uncontrollable desire for a man, let alone two.
Martin kissed her and Ricky as often as she and Ricky had sex, but he never allowed himself relief. He never let them touch him sexually, and after that first night she and Ricky were together, Martin stopped touching them, too.
She knew he didn’t want another violent episode after the one he had with Ricky. So he sat on the sidelines, seemingly content to watch her and Ricky fall apart at his command.
Behind his tightly controlled bearing, however, simmered a bottomless well of pain and frustration. He tried to bury it, but it burned from his eyes and scorched the air around him whenever he was aroused.
Sex was his trigger, and it made him viciously mean. She couldn’t fathom the abuse he’d endured.
Pressing him to talk about it only made him coil tighter, and whenever he lashed out, his fury was loaded with accusations.
Accusations directed at her.
She left him and Ricky in bed this morning, telling them she had a meeting with Hector. The lie made her chest hurt, but dammit, she knew they weren’t being truthful with her, either.
She sat in her own cell, on a mattress she didn’t use anymore, and pored over everything they’d said over the past five weeks.
Martin’s distrust resided with Hector, steeped with the notion that Hector’s cartel snatched children off American streets and sold them into slavery.
Though Martin never admitted it, she knew he’d been a victim of sexual abuse as young as fourteen. His stance against child slavery wasn’t just a moral one. It was personal.