My Sinful Valentine (A Beautiful Sinners Collection) by Elena Reyes (black authors fiction .txt) 📕

“Never.”

“Just for a little while longer, Javi.” Coquettish little beauty bites my chin and then soothes the sting with the tip of her tongue. “Por favor.”

“You speak Spanish so prettily.”

“And I’ve learned a few naughty things just for you.”

“Have you, now?”

“Si, Papi.” A throat clears and my wife pulls away, keeping just a hold of my pointer finger. “Now, let me help you get in so we can be off.” My nod is the only response I give, following her lead as I climb up to the front of the car and let her put the seatbelt on me. “I promise to get there as soon as I can. Just behave, and I’ll reward you later.”

Mariah moves to pull away, the blunt of her fingernails running across my chest and I grab her hand, bring it to my lips, and kiss each knuckle. A soft sigh escapes her, and a small shiver runs through her.

“Wait.”

“Javi, I promise to—”

“I just want you to know that wherever you go, I’ll always follow.”

Mariah’s next mistake is lowering the car windows after we’ve been on the road for an hour. The scent of nature and coffee and home is unmistakable, and I grin while turning my face toward the late-night sky. It’s a unique scent that comforts, this earthy infiltration of my senses that relaxes me further into my seat.

By now, it’s a little after ten at night and the streets are empty. Little to no noise and seldom a car, but the unmistakable noises from the local fields—the occasional farm animal or the birds of the night that take flight and hunt are easy to discern because this, nature’s symphony, is something I’ve missed since moving to Chicago.

I miss getting my hands dirty after a long day of looking after my fields.

I miss the silence.

But most of all, I miss the time we’ve spent on my land without distractions or worries.

There’s a series of honks not far from our vehicle, and I know the cadence. Alejandro’s men are alerting me of their presence, so I don’t react. So I don’t kill them in a shoot-first, ask-questions-later scenario.

Moreover, I wouldn’t put it past my aunt to have placed this escort to my private property, something I’m sure Alejandro has no knowledge of and he’ll find interesting to know.

My cock gives a hard jerk behind my zipper, and I fight back the urge to alleviate the pressure. To lessen my need, because the images flashing behind my closed eyelids are damn near maddening.

We’re heading to the place I made this woman mine. Where I promised her my forever.

Another reason for my smile. For the cocky grin curling up at the edge of my lips while beside me my crazy, beautiful, psychotic wife huffs. “Something wrong, Muñeca?”

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because I’m with you.” Another huff, but I can almost see the smile she’s more than likely wearing. “Now, why are you upset?”

“I’m not.”

“You sure?” The clicking sound follows my question and we begin to turn left, the road automatically becoming bumpier. I don’t mention it. Instead, I tilt my head while extending a hand out toward her, which Mariah takes, and I bring it to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “Need me to drive us? I won’t ask questions or—”

“No!” Motherfuck. It’s hard, but I manage to not so much as let my jaw twitch in amusement. “I got this, Javi. All I need from you is for you to sit beside me and look handsome while doing so.”

“Easy enough.” I cracked my neck to alleviate some form of tension since touching my dick would give me away—she wouldn’t make it another mile without being bent over the hood of this car with my cock buried deep within her soft walls. “Maybe I should take a nap, instead? I’m adorable while asleep.”

She snorts, and it’s the cutest sound. “Who told you that lie?”

“My mother, I’ll have you know.”

Pulling her hand from mine, she makes another long turn. “That woman was a saint to find anything you do endearing.”

“Ouch, love. So mean.”

“Shush.”

“But—”

“Calladito te ves mas bonito.” You sneaky and bratty little...

I’m not going to lie or pretend that her saying I’d be hotter with zipped lips didn’t turn me on further. That I didn’t feel the beads of pre-come slide from my engorged tip before sliding down my hard shaft, caressing the taut skin before disappearing within the fabric of my pants.

Every time she speaks Spanish is sexy. Every time she challenges me is my favorite kind of foreplay.

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Muñeca. Just okay.” I’ll make you cry out your apologies soon enough.

2

HE THINKS I don’t know that he knows, but I do.

My husband is too smart to not have me followed or watched, and I capitalize on his obsession each and every time. On his constant need to know if I’ve shot anyone recently or if I simply need a coffee pick-me-up after a long day of organizing my cousin’s life. And while this can make it harder for me to surprise the stubborn man, we both need this break. To let go and devour each other and just enjoy the quiet that his favorite place will surround us with.

It’s why I chose it. It’s why when Lourdes asked me over the Christmas holiday in Barbados what I had planned for Valentine’s, I said I wanted to take him home. Because while I know I am his resting place, Colombia is in his heart and he stays in the US for me.

This place is special and vibrant, and I see from the corner of my eyes the smirk he’s trying hard to fight back. Javier knows exactly where we are, and the not-so-subtle honking from Alejandro’s men