Camilo's Virgin - Page 2

“So this is her, huh?” a voice I don't recognize asks.

“Yep. Where is my payment?” Lux asks the other voice.

“Right here,” is all he says before I hear a popping sound, a thud and then the revving of an engine. I can feel the bile building in my gut as it hits me that they shot him.

“Poor little girl. Think she knows what her fate is?” another different voice sneers.

“Hell, she is going to pray for death instead of being sold to a Valladares.” Sold? Who is Valladares? Oh God. I begin to cry and beg and then...nothing.

A Few Days Later

“Got a ripe one here Sir,” someone says as they push me into the room. Stumbling, I fall and hit what feels like rocks and cry out at the sharp pain.

“Remove the mask.” A gruffer, older vice says. My eyes burn, seeing light for the first time in I don’t know how long. I continue to look at the floor, unsure if I am to look up or not.

“Fuck.” I hear to my left. That voice sounds younger.

“She is definitely a looker huh, son.” The older one says. “Look up, girl.” Slowly, I raise my head, and do as I am told like they have been telling me for the past few days. I have avoided many punishments by just obeying.

“Christ,” the young voice says, once again.

“Do you know who I am?” An older man asks. I shake my head.

“No, Sir.”

“My name is Cosmo Valladares, and I am your new Master,” he says, his voice sinister and deep. Foreboding and fear take over. “This is my son Camilo. He will be your watcher.” My eyes shift to the young man. My gaze trepidatious and meek. I take in his ripped arms and wide stance, and I feel myself shiver for another reason. His eyes bare into mine, seeking and burning through my skin. I begin to sweat, unsure of anything at this point but poignantly aware of my situation. “Son, please take our new...acquisition to her room.” He nods at the command and grips my forearm walking me further into the house. Is this what walking the green mile feels like?

“When no one else is around, little lamb, you may call me Milo,” he whispers into my ear as he opens the door leading to my new sleeping quarters.

“Yes, Sir.” His eyebrow raises and I swallow realizing my mistake, but not sure he meant it right now. “Milo.” I correct myself immediately.

“Good girl.” His hand raises and I flinch, expecting to feel pain. My eyes squeeze shut in anticipation. Instead, I feel his fingers sweep my unruly hair to the side. I look up at his jaw and watch as he clenches. “Who would hurt such a gift.” he says, his eyes searing into my soul. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ok?” I swallow, but I don't respond. I want to believe him, but I can’t. “You don’t trust me now, but you will.” He leans in, close enough to feel his breath on my lips. “Now get some sleep.” He kisses me and walks out. Oh boy. This could lead to trouble.

Two Years Later

“Milo. Oh God.” I cry out into the room, gripping the headboard as he pounds my pussy. I know what you are thinking. I was brought here for his father and though it is true, it didn’t take long for Milo to decide I was meant to be his. Within the first week, he had personally taken over as my shadow and refused to let me out of his sight.

A month in and I learned how to kiss him, panting as my body went up in flames from just his kisses and dirty words. Even though the legal age of consent in Cuba is sixteen, he refused to take me until my 18th birthday. He said it would make him no better than a rapist. Despite my pleas and reassurances that I am willingly giving myself to him, he wouldn’t do it. It never stopped him from grinding into me, bringing me pleasure, sending me crying into the night how much I loved him.

Now, on the eve of my eighteenth birthday he is claiming me. “Jesus. Your fucking pussy is so hot.” His fingers pinch and twist my nipples as his other hand rubs my clit.

“Oh shit. Oh fuck.” I chant over and over, my vision blurry and wet from sweat and tears.

“I love you so much baby,” he says, kissing me as his rhythm slows down. His tongue mates with mine, caressing and dancing in and out.

“I love you too, Milo.”

“Soon you will be calling me husband,” he grunts, lifting my legs higher and sinking deeper into me.

“Oh God. So deep, babe. So full.” gripping his ass I pull him further into me even though I am squeezing him to stop him from going deeper.

Tags: ChaShiree M, M.K. Moore Romance
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