Page 115 of Hostile Love
A hand slides to my breastbone and settles over my beating heart.
“Now, please stop seducing me. I’m seconds away from shooting my load and haven’t even widened your tight little hole properly to fit my dick.”
He chuckles and kisses my shoulder blade. “I want my cum everywhere, baby.”
33
MATHEUS
Fuck, I hate this slice of Colombia.
And this creepy old chapel on the grounds of the plantation, near the crypt where Elias lies entombed.
It’s where Mama had recited her wedding vows before we were born and where my brothers and I were all baptized.
After that, it was rarely used, if at all.
This morning, though, the entrance displays a gigantic garland of red roses with a matching carpet leading up the short aisle between antique wooden pews.
Rosy blooms decorate the narrow altar and a simple hand carved cross glows from the daylight pouring in through the only window.
I wander inside, gazing up at rustic beams and fidgeting with the starched white collar of my dress shirt.
Inside, the chapel is cooler. The building stinks of decaying vegetation much like the jungle surrounding it and dust particles dance within beams of light pouring through the leafy trees.
There’s an unpleasant energy when I brush my fingertips over the stone wall as if Elias’ black soul had seeped out of his burial chamber and coated everything in his evil.
We could have used this space for his send off, but he’d left strict instructions for his sons to fire a few rounds into the sky to honor him.
An outdoor marquee and a million-dollar casket had been enough for the fucker. He’s lucky I took part.
More guests arrive. A suited Souza employee takes their names at the door and guides them to either the bride or groom's side of the chapel.
Most of the seats are already taken, except for the front rows. Aside from the floral arrangements, the guests all face a discreet TV jutting out from the wall.
An image of the bride and groom is displayed on the screen with a brief welcome message.
I check my watch and move outside again into the warm air, impatient.
Crunching over gritty stones, that familiar awareness hits me again.
She’s here.
My gaze settles on the gravel pathway winding its way around evergreens, coming to a stop in front of the little chapel.
My heart starts pounding. Not because Dani is next to Carlos Blanco. No, it's the silky red dress hugging her curves as if the devil had poured a chalice of blood and she’d disrupted its flow.
The clingy material showcases her arm tattoos, narrow waist, and tanned cleavage, spilling all the way down to matching satin sandals.
Soft loose hair is pulled back at one side and held in place with a dainty jeweled comb. Her perfect lips are stained cherry red and her eyes…Christ, her smokey eyes capture me in a heartbeat.
I shake off the urge to shove her face first into the undergrowth, rip her dress to shreds, and ravage her. There would be plenty of time for that later.
Clearing my throat, I smile through the lust and bite my bottom lip to hold back the huge grin trying to light me up.
Her full body shiver doesn’t go unnoticed either. I’m attuned to her every step and change in heart rate.
The pulse in her neck is thrumming and her tits rise as she steels a breath, doing her best to hide her reaction to me.
