Cleaner than he’d been for days, Mitch donned his favorite Santana T-shirt and cargo shorts and headed for the makeshift bar. It had been so long since he’d held his Angel in his arms. Any woman, really. She’d stolen his desire for anyone but her. She was the kind of woman a man wanted forever. The kind of woman a man brought home to meet his mother. That fact alone should have sent him running for the hills after their time in Europe, but it hadn’t. He’d known for a long time that Angelique was his forever woman. All he had to do was convince her. He stepped into the dim light of the cantina, his gaze naturally seeking her out.
She stood in front of the jukebox, pumping change into the machine so she could listen to some music from home. He tapped on the bar and ordered a beer, watching the gentle sway of her hips as she moved to the beat. As the next song began, he smiled to himself. Delbert McClinton’s “Never Been Rocked Enough.” Her weaving steps and silly grin told him she’d had more than a few drinks, so when she passed by him, he snaked an arm around her waist. He wasn’t above taking any advantage he could get where Angelique was concerned.
“Dance with me, Angel,” he said and propelled her into the small crowd of people already cutting a rug. The skirt of her little tulip-yellow sundress whirled around her legs as he twirled her.
Jesus, but she was gorgeous with that long curtain of blonde hair swirling around her. And her smile? Well, her smile could light up a small city, and for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t scowling at him.
“Whoops!” Angelique laughed as she stumbled into her nurse friend when he spun her around. “Sorry, Carla.”
Mitch grinned. Maybe if he kept her spinning, she’d forget she hated him and let him have his way with her. It had been much too long.
When the song ended, the jukebox flipped to another, this one by Bonnie Raitt, a slow, sad tune. She moved to return to her table, but Mitch pulled her into his arms.
“It’s just a dance,” he murmured when she gave his chest a shove. “Just a dance, Angel.”
Her eyes were slightly unfocused, and there were dark smudges of exhaustion beneath them. No wonder with the hours she put in at the hospital. Then there was the inevitable guilt she always felt when she lost a patient. He should feel like a real bastard, taking advantage when her defenses were down, but he didn’t. He wanted her, figured there would never come a time when he didn’t. He knew the moment she relaxed, because she closed her eyes, rested her cheek on his shoulder, and her body became one with his as he guided her around the dirt floor and out the side door. He was wound tight as a piano wire, wanting so badly to touch her, to kiss her, he thought he might snap any moment. Screw it; he’d already told her she’d be his tonight, and he was determined to make that happen.
“Angel,” he whispered.
“Mmm?”
Mitch put a hand in her hair and eased her head back. Her eyes were closed. He settled his mouth over hers, rocking her gently from side to side as Bonnie Raitt sang that it was too soon to tell. Her lips parted to kiss him, and he dived in like a man dying of thirst. Her mouth was hot and sweet from the pear vodka she’d been drinking. Heaven help him, he could drink from her forever and never get his fill.
He deepened the kiss, curling his tongue around hers, sliding his hand down her bare back to cup her ass. Lordy, but he loved sundresses.
She was moaning softly, pressing herself against him. This was the Angelique he remembered, passionate, eager for his touch, ready for anything. He turned her away from the door, bunched the fluttery skirt in his fist, and slid his hand beneath it. Thong. He groaned, kissing her more urgently. He wanted nothing more than to strip the almost nonexistent panties from her body, bend her over the nearby picnic table, and bury himself in her slippery heat. Angelique was a woman who liked sex. She liked it hot, and more often than not, she liked it rough. And Mitch was feeling dangerous tonight. He caressed one bare cheek and slid a finger beneath the edge of her panties. Her eyes popped open.
Shit!
Mitch braced himself for the worst. Her beautiful eyes widened; then she swung her fist. He caught a glimpse of that damn gold crescent ring her father had given her for graduation just seconds before it made contact with the outside of his eye.
“Acosta, you pig!” She shook her abused hand, testing the movement of her fingers.
“Jesus, Doc, that’s gonna leave a mark!” He wiped blood from his left eye and followed her back into the cantina.
“Good!”
He was hot on her heels when she stomped back inside. “Good! It’ll remind me just how dangerous you really are!”
“Don’t you forget it, you deviant prick!” She drained her glass and snagged the bottle of vodka off her table.
The locals laughed as Angelique turned on her heel and stumbled out of the cantina, bristling with righteous anger. But FARC soldiers didn’t find it the least bit funny. Seth unfolded himself from a bar stool and handed him a rag with a few precious ice cubes in it.
“You know you can’t let her get away with that in public, right? If you do, she’s fair game for any man comes through here.”
Acosta sighed, shaking his head in the affirmative. “Jesus, she’s gonna hate me.”
Seth snorted and leaned in, speaking softly. “You forgetting the things we did with that little girl back in New Orleans? When you finished paddling her ass and shoved your fingers in her pussy, she came like a fucking rocket. And when we took her together. I’ll never forget that night; I guarantee.”
Mitch grinned.
“No matter how you look at it, you’re gonna have to show her, and our rebellious friends, exactly who’s boss in this little corner of her world.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Seth was probably right. Angelique had undercut his authority with the guerillas, and since he’d claimed her for himself, it was time to put any doubts to rest once and for all. He nodded. “All right. I guess it’s time to teach her a lesson.” When Seth grinned, Mitch rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to look so happy about it, asshole.”
Mitch stifled an amused grin at the startled look on Angelique’s face when the door to her walled tent flew open and he and Boudreaux walked in. She drew herself up, squaring her shoulders, and said, “Get out.”
“No. Take off your clothes,” Mitch ordered. It wasn’t a request, and the set of her lips told him she knew it. He yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
“Go to hell.”
Bless her, she tried to look outraged, baring her teeth at him the way she did when she was pissed, but her nipples had hardened with his rough command.
“You have two seconds to shimmy out of that dress, Doc, or I’m going do the job for you.”
“You wouldn’t da—”
She all but snarled at him when he spun her around and shoved her against her makeshift dressing table. “Oh, I dare a lot more than that, as you well know.” He pushed the straps of the dress down and allowed the garment to pool at her feet, then disposed of her panties. With a flick of his fingers, his own shorts fell to the floor and he kicked them away.
His eyes met hers in the mirror. “That’s right. I’m gonna fuck you, good and hard. But first I’m going to paddle your ass till it’s nice and red. Make sure you know exactly who you belong to and what’s going to happen every time you buck me in public.”
He knew the moment she opened her mouth that she was going to scream, so he covered it with his hand. “You don’t want to do that, Angel. You scream and your friends might decide to be heroes and come to your rescue. Our boys saw us come in here. The way they see it, you need to be disciplined for what you did back there. Women do not hit men in this country, and certainly not in the rebel armies. So you’re going to be disciplined, and you’re going to be fucked into submission. Your friends try to stop that, they’re liable to get hurt. Is that what you want? Shake your head no if that’s not what you want.” She shook her head. “Good girl. Now first, I warm your sweet little ass. Make it so you’ll remember your place when you sit down for a little gossip session with your pals. Then I fuck you. Ain’t that right, my friend?”
Seth grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Oh hell yeah. Get it all nice and heated up before you shove your dick up there.” He slumped in the chair across from the bed. “You remember how it felt, don’t you, Ange? A nice big dick up your ass?” He snatched the bottle of vodka off the table and took a long drink. “Looks like you’re gonna have a hell of a party tonight.” He sat down in the only chair in the room and gestured to Mitch. “Carry on, my friend. You don’t mind if I watch?”
“You can watch until the fucking begins; then you’re outta here.”
“Well, that ain’t no fun, bro, but I guess somebody’s gotta verify she’s been punished.” He settled back to watch the show.
Mitch sat on the edge of the bed and motioned to Angelique. “Across my lap, Angel. Do it yourself, or it’s going to last a lot longer than you’d like.” She licked her lips nervously. He gave her a hard yank, and she tumbled across his lap. “I warned you,” he reminded her and shoved her legs apart to thrust a finger into her. She whispered a foul curse, and he chuckled. “You can protest all you want to, honey, but that’s some hot, juicy pussy, which means you want what’s coming to you, and I aim to see you get it.” He gestured to Seth. “Hand me one of those condoms she keeps hidden in that drawer.” He pumped her a few times, then reached for his cock, covering himself with the condom Seth tossed to him.
* * * *
She barely had time to catch her breath before Acosta’s hand came down on her ass. She yelped. Jesus, that stung. He reached between her legs, burrowing his fingers deep, prompting a moan from her tight throat. He chuckled. “Well, look here,” he taunted, holding his fingers up for her to see. “Baby wants to get her ass whipped. Hand me my belt, Seth. It’s time my Angel learned her place in a male-dominated society.” He caught the belt, folded it over twice, and swung.
Angelique hissed as the narrow belt connected with her bottom, scorching fiery lines of erotic pain across her tender flesh. Jesus, it hurt, but beyond the pain, she felt a familiar ache as her body clenched in anticipation. She remembered well how it had gone those many years before, what it’d felt like when they’d plundered her pussy; how her ass had quivered and burned when her tiny anal entrance was breached; the pressure of both men filling her; the way she’d begged and pleaded for them to fuck her, to make her come. She’d been sore for days afterward, but it had been the single most exciting sexual experience of her life, and it was about to happen again. Granted, only Acosta would take her now, but she remembered what it was like to have her ass fucked, and damned if she didn’t want it.
Over and over the belt bit into her bottom like streaks of fire. Acosta hadn’t been kidding. He intended to make an impression she wouldn’t forget. A particularly vicious lash slashed over a tender spot, and she cried out.
“That’s right, woman,” he said loudly, flinging the belt away. “When I want something, what do you do?” When she refused to respond, he gleefully attacked her bottom with the flat of his hand. “Who’s pussy is this, Angel?”
Again, she refused to answer. She’d be damned if her coworkers would hear her declare Acosta’s dominance over her. Another flurry of slaps had her sobbing.
“Say it, Angel. This is my pussy, and when I want it, you’re going to give it to me, aren’t you?”
Her ass was on fire, and her pussy was dripping. “Yes,” she hissed.
“And when I’m gone, you aren’t going to share my pussy with anybody else, are you?” His hand burrowed between her legs, fingers thrusting deep.
“Nooo…I swear it. Just you,” she sobbed. “Ah Christ, Mitch.”
He slid from beneath her then. “Get on your knees, woman,” he demanded, giving her another smack.
She was breathing hard as Mitch stepped up behind her. “First, I want a taste of this pussy; then this ass is mine. Boudreaux, out.”
Angelique gasped when Mitch stroked his work-roughened hands over the heated welts on her bottom. He caressed the swollen lips of her pussy, seeming to direct all that heat straight into her core.
“Uh-huh,” he said softly. “That’s what I like.” He palmed her sore bottom again and entered her with a hard, deep thrust. He didn’t give her a moment to adjust to his size but kept on pumping, fucking her hard, burying himself to the hilt with each thrust. “That’s right, honey; fuck yourself on my dick. Yeah, you love it.” She glanced over her shoulder at Mitch. He reached for the lubricant on the dressing table, and Angelique’s breath stuttered as he drizzled the heated oil over her and worked a finger inside her back opening. He slowed his pace, adding another finger, then another, stretching her bottom.
“Oh man, that’s hot. Watching my fingers fuck your ass while I take your pussy. I can’t wait to get inside this sweet little hole again, honey. You ready for me?” His voice was strained with the effort to keep control.
She wanted to scream
No!
at him, but she was ready. She wanted it more than she wanted to breathe right now. “Yes,” she hissed. “I want you to.”
Mitch laughed softly. “You do? Well, that’s good, Angel, because you’re going to get it whether you want it or not. Ask me nice, now. Say, ‘Fuck my ass, Mitch.’”
Angelique gritted her teeth. “Damn you, Acosta. Why would I beg you?”
“Because you want it, Angel. Plain and simple. Say it, or I’ll leave you with your red bottom, and if you fuck anybody but me when I’m gone…well, let’s just say that wouldn’t be a healthy thing for the person you took to bed.” He punctuated this pronouncement with a hard, deep stroke. “Come on now, honey; you know you want it. Just say it.”
Mitch slid his fingers from her bottom and cleansed them with the antibacterial wipes she kept at her bedside before grasping her hips to press his cock against the tiny opening. She looked back, glaring at him, but the sight of his big cock, the memory of it filling her, had her closing her eyes as she relented. “Fuck my ass, Mitch. Please.”
He pressed the broad head of his cock against the tiny opening. “Take a deep breath, honey, because I’m coming in now.”