Page 68 of Cartel Rose (Jorge)

“The Spanish. Your accent. It’s so se—Fuck, Daddy. Please?”

Her hips buck off the mattress when I slide three fingers into her and caress her G-spot. She moans when my free hand presses on her belly, the added pressure intensifying the sensation. I rake my teeth over her clit before sucking. Hard.

“Come.”

“Ja, Daddy.”

We both lapse into our native languages. Our thoughts are too crowded by instinct to worry about what we’re saying. We understand each other without words. Liesel’s cunt contracts around my fingers, and I watch her abs flex. Her fingers grip the bedding as her orgasm makes her entire body tense. With her hips off the mattress, I grab her ass, separating her cheeks until my fingers can press against her puckered hole.

“This will belong to me tonight, Liesel. I will fuck your mouth, your cunt, and your ass. You will take my cum in all three places. I will mark your tits with it and brand you as mine.”

I watch her to see how she reacts to the dirty talk. She reaches for me, and I stand. She grasps my shirt with both hands and tugs. When I lean over her, she reaches for my belt. She’s frantic as she tries to unfasten it.

“Pick where you want to do it now.”

I swallow my groan as I catch her wrists in my hands and pry hers loose from my clothing. I pull her to sit up before I lift her into my arms. I sit where she was just lying, curling her against my body.

“If I fuck you now, we’ll get nothing else done today. Plus, your family is waiting for us. We don’t need to make it even more obvious.”

She glances toward the door. “Do you think they heard us?”

Chapter Seventeen

Liesel

What the fuck am I doing? I broke up with the guy I live—lived—with all of five minutes ago, and I’m already naked with another guy.

He’s not just some guy, and you know it.

I may not have technically cheated, but I nearly did. Now, I’m blowing off my mom, my sister, and my dad to get off. I’d blow Jorge if he’d let me.

“Liesel, it’s all right to have a few minutes to escape all of this. A few minutes to feel good before facing reality all over again.”

I gaze up at Jorge, and I marvel at how he knows what I’m thinking. Maybe my expression says it all, but I don’t think so. I think he just gets me. Maybe he’s been in so many shitty situations—dangerous ones—that he’s learned how to cope with them. Maybe he’s learned it’s okay not to be in a panic all the time. I don’t know, but those explanations make me feel justified. Otherwise, I’m the shittiest person alive.

As much as I want to revel in that escape, we can’t. With a sigh, we stand, and I get dressed. We both check our appearance in the mirror. I smooth back my hair and twist to look at the backof my clothes, ensuring I look the same as I did when we came into the bedroom. Jorge adjusts his rolled shirt sleeves for the same reason.

“Are you ready,chica?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

We head back into the suite’s living room. My mom and Heidi smile, but neither of them makes it awkward. At least no more awkward than it already is, since I’m certain they know things have progressed between Jorge and me. We’re not a family where parents and children discuss sex lives, but my sister and I have both lived with men. My mother’s not ignorant, and I just disappeared into a hotel bedroom with a man for at least twenty minutes.

I do my best not to wince when I sit, but my ass is definitely sore. I can tell my mom and Heidi want to know what’ll happen next, but neither of them wishes to ask in case it reveals Jorge and I haven’t devised a plan. I’m just about to open the conversation to make it easier for all of us when Jorge’s phone buzzes.

He pulls it from his pocket and glances at the door after looking at the screen. He answers, and it only takes a moment for me to realize it must be one of his guards.

“Something’s arrived, and it’s addressed to you, Anne. I’ll take a look before anybody brings it in.”

He needs to stop calling me that now that there’s nothing to hide.

“No, I want to know what it is regardless.”

“I’ll tell you the truth, but I think it would be better if I find out first.”

“No, we all have a right to know what it is.”

He puts the call on speaker, and the guard describes a small package that arrived. Apparently it’s barely larger than a ring box. Jorge’s expression tells me he believes having thiscall on speaker is the wrong decision. He wants to shield my family and me from whatever the next shock will be. The guard switches to Spanish without prompt. He speaks so rapidly I can’t understand him—not that I speak enough Spanish that I would if he spoke slowly.