Page 21 of Cartel King

“I think Elodie is one of the most beautiful and feminine names I’ve ever heard. I think Elle is sophisticated. But Ellie is just mine. It’s soft and light, which is how I want you to feel. Not like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders like I’ve sensed. I want to make you happy and take care of you.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that. What do you mean?”

Does he want a kept woman? A mistress? Does he think I can’t take care of myself?

“I call you Ellie andchiquita, but I don’t think you’re a child. You’re independent, and I know that’s important to you. I’m not suggesting I put you in a situation where you’re reliant on me. I don’t want to just come over to fuck, then leave. I mean as a partner.”

Oh. Shit. Um.

“Enrique, I can’t give you that. I never want to be in another committed relationship. I never want to be accountable to someone else or have to hold anyone else accountable. I don’t want?—”

I snap my mouth shut as I realize how I truly feel. I’ve said what I just did to plenty of people, especially ones who’ve tried to reassure me I’ll find love again. I don’t want it.

Accountability only scratches the surface. It sounds like I want freedom to do whatever I want. There’s some of that, but that’s not all of it.

“What don’t you want?”

I shake my head. This is pawing at a wound that’s scabbed over but not healed. I’m too exposed, and that’s part of why I don’t want a relationship.

“Ellie?”

“It’s nothing.”

I squeak as I reach for his shoulders, unprepared for him to lift me off his lap and lie me face down on the sofa. He spanks me. Hard. Several times. After the surprise that comes with the first one, I press my hips up. I want the spanking. I want his dominance and my submission, which is ludicrous. It’s the perfect opposite of what I want when he isn’t spanking me.

“Enrique, that hurts. Ow!”

“I know it does. It’s supposed to. I told you never to lie to me. I told you to tell me something is none of my business. To tell me you don’t want to talk about it. But donottell me, little girl, that something that’s obviously important to you is nothing. Everything that’s important to you is important to me.”

“All right. Stop. Please. I’m sorry.” My voice trembles, and I feel like utter shit.

He scoops me up and cradles me this time. I don’t like it. I can’t hug him like he’s hugging me. I shift to straddle him a third time.

“Shh, Ellie. It’s done.”

“I pissed you off. That’s disappointing.”

“I’m not pissed off,cariño.”

I know that means sweetheart for a man or woman. I shudder as I burrow into his chest. I feel raw. I want to run from it, but I want to run to Enrique. That makes no sense.

“I’m not disappointed in you or this conversation. I want you to understand you aren’t alone. I want you to understand you’re important. The things you think. The things you do. The things that happen in your life. I’m not trying to control you or demand to know every little detail. You can keep your thoughts to yourself. Just don’t diminish them or yourself. You’re too special for that.”

“That’s hard to believe, and it’s going to take me time to accept that. I know I’m hiding, but I understand now why I never want a committed relationship again. I never want to rely on someone again and be that deeply disappointed again. It would crush me.”

“If you let no one near you, no one can hurt you.”

“Yes.”

He tips my chin up and gazes down at me. He kisses me again, and it’s so tender a tear slides down my cheek. The other ones tonight have been passionate and possessive. I loved them. This—this gives me hope I don’t want. Because the other side of hope is disappointment. I can’t take more of that.

But, God, how he tempts me.

His voice is soft as his hand runs up and down my back. His other one cups my ass.

“Chiquita, we have a lot we need to talk about that could make all of this moot. But before I tell you why I came over here—no, it wasn’t to ravish you—I want you to know what I said earlier hasn’t changed. If you want anything between us—romantic or platonic—we go at your speed.”

“You make me want to trust you, Enrique. And that’s fucking terrifying.”

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