Page 68 of King of Hearts

“You’re not going to, I promise you. It’s okay, please just move. I’m begging you.”

Fine.Fuck.I let go jutting my hips up to meet hers, letting out a groan as ecstasy pummeled through me like liquid heat. My movements increased in speed while her hips rocked faster and faster, her hands moving to her tits, pinching her nipples while her eyes watched the ceiling and her mouth gaped.

“I’m coming. Oh my god. Oh my god. This is…fuck, Juan.” She screamed while I continued pumping my cock. I wanted to flip us, get her up on all fours, get her against the wall, in the pool…but all of that would need to wait.

I came with a groan and a myriad of muttered curse words. One year without fucking. Well, more than a year. I couldn’t even remember the last girl, but she was blonde, and I had imagined Taylor while I did her.

Now, here, with my eyes open, watching as Taylor came down from her orgasm, it was making things in my head and heart muddled. I’d been falling for her far longer than I was comfortable admitting, but these last few weeks felt like she’d fallen too, and now at the bottom, there was nothing left but this…us…our bodies finally catching fire after breaking against each other, over and over, like two stones. I couldn’t withstand being away from her, and now that we’d crossed this line, I worried she’d chalk it up to something physical when it was far deeper for me.

She carefully crawled off, lying next to me while my seed made a mess between her thighs. She held her belly while she worked to catch her breath.

“You okay? Is she okay?” I gently rubbed my hand down her stomach.

Taylor smiled at me, brushing her fingers through my hair. “We’re great. I just haven’t had an orgasm like that in…um…I think forever, and it feels amazing. I feel like I’m about to go into a coma.”

I got up, walking toward the linen closet Taylor had found before, and pulled out a rag. Rinsing it with warm water, I brought it back and carefully wiped between her thighs, cleaning her up. Then I pulled the sheet back over her.

“Sleep, baby,” I whispered before tossing the rag in the hamper and crawling in beside her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

November had snuckup on us, giving me mere weeks before the baby came. My routine with Juan felt real, comfortable. The only thing that reminded me that it wasn’t was when I’d see my father’s men lingering around at school, always in places Juan wasn’t or couldn’t see, which was something because Juan made it a point to escort me to every class and wait for me as each one ended. There were messages and reminders sent, and Ivan had even shown up at the house a few times to discuss new terms. Apparently he wasn’t happy with the addendums Juan had suggested after reviewing the contract.

It was difficult for me to push myself to care. I had to because in the back of my mind, it was the right thing to do—figure a way out of this and free Juan from it. Still, my father was getting antsy, and Juan was stalling. While my fake fiancé continued to push away more talks and discussions with my father, he’d keep me up late at night with his head between my legs or his dick carefully running through my folds.

He was careful not to penetrate unless I was the one who initiated the sex. I think he was scared of hurting me, but I didn’t want to seem like I was a tease, or only interested in using him. I wanted him to want it, to want me.

Even though I wanted him as often and frequently as he’d let me have him…occasionally reality would hit, and I’d remember what Juan was giving up by pretending to be with me. I realized how much time had passed and continued to slip away while he acted as the leader of a gang he didn’t want to be in. Sorrow and selfishness would battle it out for dominance in my soul. Usually selfishness would win, and that was when I’d indulge in Juan’s smiles and touch. This morning, however, I realized sorrow would be a strong enough contender to force my hand.

I sat at the kitchen island, seeing Juan’s mother and aunt there once again, cooking.

“Good morning.” Maria smiled at me; her hands were full of cornmeal-like dough.

I returned her smile. “Good morning.”

Juan’s mother looked up briefly, her lips twitching before she relinquished a half-hearted greeting. We’d slowly been working on our relationship, if that was what you called it. She saw Juan and me kiss frequently enough that she knew we were into each other, even if it did hurt that she sometimes pointed at his chest and muttered, “Idiot.”

It hurt. Unfortunately, I had noticed several people asking Juan something in Spanish and pointing toward his chest then shaking their heads. It made me feel strange, like I was a fool, being unclaimed by someone who was obviously taking me to bed. It was like we’d suddenly been transported back to a time where I was obviously the lover, but not the queen.

“What are you making?” I asked, even though I had heard a few people say tamales. I didn’t want to seem stupid if I was wrong. My stomach grumbled with my question, which I quickly tried to cover with my hand, as if that would work.

“She’s starving.” Anna stilled her hands, raising her gaze until her brown eyes clashed with mine.

“No, I’m okay.”

She started yelling in Spanish toward the living room, until Juan entered. For some reason my face heated upon seeing him, especially as his eyes settled on me, gentle as always. Juan looked at me like he was stealing a glance he wasn’t allowed to have, a look he would be punished for taking. It made me burn in a way I had never experienced before.

“Why is she hungry?” Anna held her hand out toward me in accusation.

Juan gave me a little smirk as he moved forward. “She’s always hungry, Mama.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Anna clicked her tongue. “Get in here and cook her a proper meal.”

I stood, scooting the stool behind me. It let out a horrible squeaking sound. “No, I can grab my own food. He’s busy—it’s completely fine.”

“Nonsense. Juan, come make her eggs.”

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