Page 37 of Hostile Bond
I sit upright, forcing her chest forward in preparation for the hunt. Latching on to her chin from behind, I fix her gaze on the assholes across the terrace, my lips tight to her ear.
“See those strangers over there? They’re not allowed to see my wife naked or hear her sexy little groans when she’s riding my dick. That's for my eyes and ears only. Think of it as a game ofseek and fuck. If you don’t hurry, and I put my hands on you incinco…” I start the countdown at five, my patience paper thin. “…that means I’ll have to shoot the fuckers in the head before I strip you.” When she inhales sharply, I commence counting. “Cuatro…”
14
SINÉAD
He’s absolutely crazy, and I love it.
Perched on the edge of the sunbed, catching my breath, I quickly slip off my heels and stand when he says the number three in a smoky Spanish cadence.
“Tres…” It reverberates from his chest like a roll of distant thunder ahead of a lightning strike.
The way he pronounces that short word douses me in flammable tingles. I’m certain the next time his hands land on my feverish flesh, they’d act as the match to set me on fire.
Our eyes pinpoint each other, his dilated pupils so dark they remind me of a total eclipse and mine widen from our palpable chemistry. For a lingering second, his gaze settles behind me. I follow his line of vision to where Matheus is throat fucking one girl and kissing another.
Beyond them, another woman dances between two unknown guys who are either drunk or high. Their hands are in the air as the music gets louder.
In the far-off shadows, Giovanni ushers another woman away from the party, her wrists secured behind her back as if she’s a prisoner.
My husband’s whiskered mouth grazes my ear, the only part of André touching me. I almost convulse at the sensation of his hot breath.
“That was my life, Sinéad… before I found you. Nowadays, the only hit I need is my wife. So, let’s keep it fun… run before I start shooting those fools. You know I can be cruel when I see red.”
André’s dark, villainous rumble raises the temperature. His lips curl into a savage grin and his hands lift to the back of his head, still having no contact with me. The rebellious smile he offers is so seductive—so wild.
“Dos… Wifey…numérofuckingdos.”
My pulse jumps violently and my vision blurs for a racing heartbeat. I want him to catch me. I crave this man’s roughness, his dangerous domination that he’s shown me countless times before. Dropping the shoes to the wooden slats underfoot, I stare him right in the eyes and start to back up. “Catch me if you can, Hotshot. Bet you can’t.”
And then I pivot on the balls of my feet and bolt.
This is it. I’d wished for adventure and here I am running from a cartel leader on this billion-dollar island he’d acquired for my safety, wearing the clothes he’d bought for me, branded by ink, claimed by vows, and feeling fucking alive—completely whole.
I wouldn't change a second of our twisted journey together. It doesn't matter that I’ve found happiness in his darkness and influence—in a filthy monster. Because he’s delved into my bored soul and activated the real woman inside of me. A powerful woman who’s happy to unleash her own untamed urges.
Adrenaline buzzes through my veins, the thrill of being chased a crazy rush. I move on to the grass and hurry along the edge of the pathway, my breathing fast. Taking a quick glance over my shoulder, my pace slows to a trot. He’s not following me.
I spin around and halt, straining to listen, to hear heavy footfalls over the distant bass beat and melodic chirping crickets. Nothing. Chills race over my bare arms, my heartbeat thuds in my ears, and a shiver of angst licks at my nape.
This is all part of the rush.
Keep running.
Picking up the pace again, I refuse to let him catch me easily. I can play the game too. It’s not only me who has the charge of anticipation electrocuting my core—I know he’s hungry like a wolf.
I dart behind a skinny palm tree’s trunk and pin my spine to the shaggy bark, then study my surroundings. From the midnight blue sky scattered with trillions of stars to the solar lit jetty stretching into a pitch-black ocean like the walkway to a watery burial chamber. I lean outward and look to my right where a shimmering blue pool fringed by palm trees fronts the side of the villa where the patio doors are wide open.
I hold my breath and dash out from my hiding spot, fueled by lusty adrenaline, and cross onto large stone slabs. The whole situation feels surreal, like I’m living in a heart pounding dream.
A looming shadow temporarily changes the lighting. My stomach roils, foolishly afraid even when I instinctively know it's my husband. The closer I get to the driftwood patio furniture, the more adrenaline pumps through me.
A surge of energy and brawn slams into me from behind. I recognize the intoxicating scent of smoke, liquor, and musky vetiver. This unique combination creates the distinct aroma of my happy place—next to him.
Large hands roughly cinch my waist and manhandle me backward into his solid chest. Our bodies collide, skin connects, and our hearts thud in unison.
His obvious arousal digs into my lower back and his head dips, bringing his coarse haired cheek in line with mine.
