Page 60 of Lourdes & the Mafia
And then the makeover montage begins.
The orange demon has a surprisingly talented hand with makeup. He contours every inch of my face perfectly. The eyeliner he paints along my lid is sharp enough to cut a bitch, and the red on my lips is just enough to be alluring.
Another demon comes, slathering my hair with oils and products, whipping out—of all things—a fucking hair dryer and diffuser, fixing my curls until they’re all arranged in a cloud around my face.
Fuck, I lookgood.
“Now, a dress.” Lorenzo helps me stand, pulling the robe from my shoulders. Before I can contemplate if I should be embarrassed at the fact that demons are going to see me naked, the feeling leaves immediately. They aren’t even focused on my body. Each one has a purpose, and it’s not to ogle at my tiddies.
They slip the dress over my shoulders, pulling and yanking, zipping and tucking until it’s arranged perfectly on my body.
“Heels,” Lorenzo commands.
They’re slipped and strapped on. It isn’t until they’re finished that a mirror is finally placed in front of me.
And joder, I look completely, totally fucking…
“Edible,” Lorenzo says from behind me, lifting a bare arm to press a trail of kisses along it.
And I do. I’m wearing a black and silver number; the dress looks like it’s made of shadows. They trail along the bottom, my silver shoes twinkling. I’m bare of jewelry, but it’s not needed when the dress has a high neckline and a circle in the front that shows off a small tease of my breasts.
My eyes go to Lorenzo’s in the mirror. At some point during my own makeover, he changed as well.
“You clean up nice.”
His outfit matches mine. Black and silver, fashionable suit pants and a turtleneck. He wears glittering rings on every finger and dress shoes. He looks very chic as he places one hand in his pocket. I don’t know why, but the image of a young 1920s American gangster comes to mind.
His brown skin all but glows with golden specks, like he wears richness even on his flesh. His lashes fan up and down as he blinks.
The way he bites his lower lip makes me want to stand on the tips of my toes and devour his mouth.
“No time for that, Amore.”
Filthy mind reader.
I want to groan aloud but swallow the sound. I take my bottom lip between my teeth, looking him over from head to toe. Looking at him is an addiction, and there’s new beauty to find after each pass of my gaze. He’s seductive, from the way he stands, to the way his eyes flare when they meet mine. I wonder if he even knows it.
Holy fucking hell.
My heart flutters a rapid tune in my chest. “You sure?” I’m not sure where the words come from. I swear, my body has been possessed by a horn dog. Is that what I’ve been reduced to in his presence? Nothing but a trembling, horny mess?
Engrave that mierda on my tombstone.
Here lies Lourdes Rivera.
Puta extraordinaire.
He lets out a soft sigh then pulls his gaze away from mine, looking around the room at all the demons milling about. “Everyone,” he announces, drawing their attention to him quickly. “Leave everything as is and get out. Right now.”
He is immediately obeyed.
The demons mumble and make noise as they dart past us, but it’s all in the background for me. I can only focus on Lorenzo, the way he’s staring at me again, the way our vision connects and electrifies. It isn’t until the last of the demons file out and the door slams behind them that he moves…
He prowls like a predator, his eyes flashing with flames. Only this time, I’m not afraid of them. I revere them. A shiver glides over my body as he stops in front of me. His tall, lithe form towering over me. This close, I can smell the frankincense clinging to his clothes. I want to bury my nose in his shirtfront. I want to reach out and pull him closer.
But before I can do anything or even make a move, he drops to his knees and kneels in front of me.
“Oh, coño…”
