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

holds her interest for different reasons: be it the scantily clad women and men for shows or the promise of winning it big or even some show with a singer I care very little for.

And while these are the things most people grow unimpressed by, she’s the opposite. Her life before me was rigid, controlled by someone more worried about social opinion than his daughter’s well-being. This, the normal so many people disregard and take for granted, is all my Preciosa craves.

It’s why I brought us to the US on vacation for Valentine’s Day. Solimar isn’t impressed by the lavishness, but something heartfelt and easy-going makes her smile. To her, diamonds are nice, but a good plate of food and relaxing at home is priceless.

My precious girl is a gem. Perfection. Mine.

“This place is amazing, Alejandro,” she whispers, watching a group of performers outside of a pirate ship do acrobatics and then dive into the small body of water surrounding the boat. She presses up against my chest, her back to my front, while the people around us huddle closer. They’re completely ignorant to the killer in their midst. Too preoccupied with the show. Some are slightly drunk. Some are talking lewdly about the performers.

Moreover, I notice every single movement. The appreciative stares of a few hijueputas at her supple body and the sexy little dress she wore for me.

White. Frilled neck. Tight.

Not that my Sol cares, much less takes notice of anyone but me. I’m her world and she is mine.

I’m her priority, and when her tiny hand lays atop mine and the gun in my grip beneath my suit jacket, I chuckle. “I promised, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” No reproach. Instead, those beautiful eyes hold mirth as she looks back from over her shoulder. “And I’m really not in the mood to call in favors and bail you out.”

“Who said I’d get caught? You doubt me?”

“Never.” Her stare moves across from me, and she makes a face of confusion and then recognition. “But maybe we should get out of here? Or go gambling?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to hit that slot machine with the ghost game we saw walking through our hotel’s casino.” She’s lying, and I leave it alone for now. Solimar will come talk to me when she’s ready.

Besides, things will happen during our vacation in the US that my girl doesn’t need to know about. Not yet. Maybe not ever if it can be helped, but I doubt it.

“As you wish.” Tapping the handle of my 1911 Sacromonte, I release my hold and thread our fingers together—bring them up and place a kiss on her delicate skin. “You also haven’t eaten in a few hours. Feel like indulging me in a dinner for two overlooking the city?”

“No.” Christ, her smile is beautiful. It overtakes her face and stretches wide, all teeth and a little crinkling at the corner of her eyes. My heart thumps harshly inside my chest at the sight, and I can’t stop myself when I yank Solimar against my chest, wrapping my other arm around her back, holding her to me.

I lower my face to hers and rub the tip of my nose from her temple to cheek and then to the corner of her sweet lips, right where she’s wetting them with the tip of her tongue. There’s no hesitation when I take her mouth with mine, kissing her deeply while those around us watch.

There are murmurs. The heavy weight of stares.

I’m lost to her taste and the way she lets out the littlest whimper, gripping my suit jacket and pulling me closer. Always wanting more. I kiss her until she’s breathless, and then when she shivers, I pull back, but not before nipping her bottom lip.

“You said no to dinner?”

“Huh.”

“Yes or no?” My Preciosa’s eyes narrow when understanding dawns, pinching my right cheek in retaliation. “Bad girl.”

“You bring it out in me.” Rising onto the tips of her high-heeled toes, Sol kisses the spot she marked. “But fine. Feed me first, and we’ll play after.”

“Such a dirty mouth.”

“Pervert.” Sol snickers and then steps out of my embrace. She’s watching me through amused eyes, hip cocked to the right, accentuating her delicious curves. “You ready?”

“Always.” I offer my arm, and without pause, she threads hers with mine. Perfect girl. “Now let’s go eat. We have places to be and people to see.”

Sol tilts her head, her expression one of confusion. “People to see?”

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“That’s my Preciosa.”

“You sneaky devil!” Solimar exclaims the moment we walk into the private dining room I booked at our hotel. It’s a floor below our penthouse suite with a clear view of the strip and the famous buildings surrounding it. Not that she’s paying attention to that or the expensive decor or lighting—the chandelier that is the crowning jewel of the room—isn’t even a blip on her radar.

Oh no.

My beautiful wife is too busy gushing over the American BBQ buffet that I’ve had prepared for us. There’s a brisket and shredded pork, hotdogs, and hamburgers—every side dish the hotel chef could make and a few beers to wash it down.

This is the kind of meal my Solimar appreciates.

Not fancy. Finger licking. Comfortable.

Walking her over to the white linen table set for two minus the plates, I pull out Sol’s chair and help her sit. I also slip a hand beneath her skirt and squeeze her thigh before placing a napkin on her lap. “I take it you approve?”

“Is that even a question?” It comes out breathy, and she bites her bottom lip. “You always know what I need.”

“I do.” Slipping a hand inside my pants pocket, I pull out a folded piece of paper and put it in front of her. The