Page 44 of No Sweeter Poison

He tilts my head to the side and drags his teeth along the pulse in my throat. “My God, I just want to fucking devour you.”

One finger drags along my wet seams and I gasp, my grip tightening on his hips as he holds me against him. He kisses up and down the side of my neck while his fingers dip into my sex, his thumb running maddening circles around my clit. As he thrusts in and out, I grind against him, relishing the sounds he makes each time I do. Finally, all the tension inside my body reaches an earth-shattering crescendo as I climax.

Alejandro’s freehand travels to the back of my dress again, the one between my legs still pumping in and out, until another climax starts to build.

“The zipper—”

“Fuck the zipper. I’m going to rip the damned thing apart.”

“No! No,” I turn around as much as I can. “Don’t, Lettie gave it to me—”

His fingers continue to move inside me until another climax builds and I bury my face against the armrest to smother the sound. What follows after is complete and utter silence.

Once the aftershock fades and I regain feeling from the waist down, I turn around and see Alejandro on the other end of the couch. He’s gasping for air like a fish out of water, cheeks flushed with heat, hard erection visible within the confines of his pants.

“We…” He clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair. “We should stop.”

“But—”

Alejandro doesn’t allow me to reply.

He gets up and leaves the room, making sure to lock the door on his way out.

A lejandro

Breakfast is quiet.

Lettie scoops eggs onto her plate while Diego pours a splash of orange juice into his champagne as if the rest of us won’t notice. It’s almost a quarter to nine when Dahlia arrives, dressed in a simple sun dress Diego brought over from her hotel room in Barcelona, and she sits at the foot of the table, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Lettie and Diego exchange looks with me. It’s the first time she’s ever joined us for a meal. Usually, Doña Ana has to beg her to eat something, and that’s after pounding on her bedroom door for an hour.

None of us know how to respond, least of all me. For the first time in my life, scorching heat blossoms across my chest and rises upward until even my ears are burning. I keep my eyes glued to my phone and try to focus on the email I’m writing but can’t. Is it shame? Embarrassment?

Remorse?

Doña Ana is just as shocked to see Dahlia here as the rest of us. She fumbles in the doorway, tray of fresh coffee in her hands, and almost drops it. Dahlia doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as she folds her hands on her lap, apparently unsure of whether or not she should serve herself or wait for someone to ask. Sensing this, Doña Ana sets down the tray of coffee and gently smooths a hand over Dahlia’s hair. She’s perhaps the only person in the house exempt from Dahlia’s hatred.

“Quiéres que te sirva, hija?”

Her eyes dart between her empty plate and the tray of coffee in front of her. She opens her mouth to speak but then decides against it. Doña Ana gestures to the plates of food on the buffet table against the back wall and the much smaller bowls laid out in front of us. Lettie reaches out for a spoon and serves herself more eggs even though I know she won’t finish all of them. Dahlia picks up on this and pats Doña Ana’s hand.

“That’s all right,” she says, finally understanding. “I’ll do it.”

Doña Ana nods and dismisses herself. Dahlia rubs her hands together, hesitating on what to reach for first, when she settles on what’s closest, the pomegranates. Not sure how fulfilling that’ll be but she commits to her choice and pours herself a glass of water.

The silence continues for an excruciating fifteen minutes before Diego checks the time on his watch. “Ready?” he asks.

Lettie nods and folds up her newspaper. I finish up the email I was typing and as we’re about to rise from our seats, Dahlia says, “About last night…”

Everyone stops.

She doesn’t lift her head from her plate and pushes around a bunch of pomegranate seeds with her spoon.

“I wanted to say thank you and…and to apologize for…well…worrying anyone. It won’t happen again.”

I set down my napkin and rise from my seat. “Can Dahlia and I have the room?”

Diego stares at her in disbelief. “Hell hath frozen over.”