Lucina Cruiz was the devil. Wow, how many times had she heard that sentiment before? It always made her laugh though. She so enjoyed the fear in a man’s eyes before she cut them out. Even more, she enjoyed their screams, especially those last frantic pleas for mercy. The only thing she loathed was the constant lack of creativity.
One would think that staring death in the face would inspire some originality. Hell, it always inspired her, but then, she was the one doling it out, so maybe that was the difference. Still, she was a little bored with the whole “devil” nametag. It was becoming…cliché.
Perhaps she could hold a seminar about it.
Dressed in a brand new white satin negligée, Luciana stood over Manuel’s sleeping form. In her hand was the push dagger he kept in the top drawer in the table beside the bed. He had another under his pillow and a gun to go along with it.
Manuel had toys stashed all over the house, and she knew where every single one of them were hidden. No one did anything under her nose without her knowing about it.
As she did almost every night, Luciana waited for Manuel to fall asleep, and then she took out that dagger and stood over him, watching him sleep as she wondered how and when she’d do it. Kill him, that is.
It was on her to-do list, so it would happen. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when.
Just as she did every night, she lost track of time. Hours passed while she stared at him, memorizing his lithe form, those thick, muscular thighs and tight abs. He had the most beautiful face she’d ever seen on a man, but he was a killer. Just like her.
Two killers, both with ambitions, couldn’t coexist side by side. One day, it was going to come down to survival, and Lucina was determined to come out on top. She wasn’t called the Mantis for nothing.
But for now, he was a good lay, and he did his job well. As her own personal mercenary, Manuel got the job done quickly and efficiently. And at home, he did the job even better. She’d never had better sex with a man than him. Manuel was just as dark, dangerous, and devious as she was.
And just as untrustworthy. Just like a child, give him an inch, and he’d take a mile. Luciana wasn’t giving him shit. On the surface, she let him think he was making headway in his endeavor to climb to the top, to her position, but beneath the dermal layer, she had him under total lock and key at all times. If he thought he was going to overtake her throne, she was going to show him what happened to overachievers.
He was a fine specimen though. It was a shame she’d have to get rid of him soon. Such was the circle of life though.
Manuel stirred, rolling from his side onto his stomach and giving her a solid view of his fantastic ass. It still bore marks from her fingernails, little angry red crescents on both round, bronze cheeks. Mmm, she certainly did enjoy their time together. He knew how to work her over like a pro, knew how to make her moan in three different languages. She was going to miss that too.
But as with those who came before him, those memories would be more than enough to keep her warm at night in her four-poster bed in the mansion in the valley. Queens ruled the throne alone, after all. Men were just the inferior ball and chain that attempted to hold them back.
Women were going to rule the world someday, and Luciana planned to forge the path.
Her hand flexed against the hard steel, her fingers gripping it so tight her knuckles blanched. She fantasized over where she’d plant that blade first. Maybe in the back, just below his neck, severing the spinal cord so she could stare into his eyes as he died and know who was responsible for his death.
Or she could take the longer, more torturous path, carving her name into his body, mind, and soul, giving her ample time to explain her reasons for ending their partnership. Although, since they were virtually one in the same, she figured he already knew their time together was limited and why.
She was under no illusions, after all, that he wasn’t thinking the exact same thing whenever he looked at her. Manuel was just as clever and just as ruthless. If given the chance, he was going to try to take her out. She’d have to be exceptionally careful not to allow him any wiggle room.
He stirred again, this time grunting a little as his hand went out to search her side of the bed. Luciana hid her hand behind her back and put on a soft smile as he lifted his head and searched her out, his eyes finding her standing at the foot of the bed.
“Hey,” he said groggily, “what are you doing over there?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said demurely. Her fingers flexed around the dagger once more, but she resisted the urge to plant it deep in his chest. He was stronger than her, quicker too. She’d have to plan carefully. Besides, she wasn’t done with him just yet. A little longer…
“So you watching me sleep?” he said with a light laugh, as if he found it cute.
He wouldn’t think it was cute, she mused, if he knew what was running through her mind.
“Come back to bed, mi reina. I got just the medicine to put you to sleep.”
He rolled over fully then, giving her the perfect view of his cock, hard and long, standing at attention. Walking around the bed, Luciana maintained her smile as she placed a knee on the edge of the mattress and quietly released the dagger so it rolled down the duvet and fell silently to the carpeted floor. “Oh, tu hombre malo,” she cooed truthfully. He was a bad man, just as she was a bad woman. In a perfect world, they would be the perfect complement to each other. “I love when you call me your queen.”
“You are my queen.” He reached out for her, his hands finding her hips and pulling her on top of him.
Bracing herself against his smooth chest, Lucina played to his overinflated ego. “And you are my king,” she told him, knowing that’s what he wanted to hear.
He grinned up at her, and his cock jumped between her thighs. Her body’s reaction was honest. She enjoyed their sex, enjoyed their games. Without any panties on, he could feel her pleasure soaking him, and Luciana rocked her hips, coating his shaft with her juices, her smile growing dark as ideas of what she’d like to do to him—with him—took shape in her mind’s eye.
Manuel caught that look, knew it well, and he gave her an answering smile, his eyes darkening with excitement and anticipation. “Mmmm, mujer malvada, what’s going on in that head of yours?”
Devil woman. He had no idea how true that was. But again, no creativity, no imagination. How disappointing. If she told him what was truly on her mind, he’d kill her on the spot. As always, Luciana told him what he wanted to hear.
“I’m thinking of how hard I’m going to ride your cock, and how hard you’re going to come for me,” she purred. She leaned down, pressing her breasts against his chest and lifted her hips until the head of his cock popped free of her cleft and aligned itself with her opening. She licked the seam of his lips as she rocked back, slowly taking him inside of her, inch by agonizing inch, so that he moaned his pleasure. She sucked his bottom lip between hers and watched as his eyes rolled back, and she delighted in the way his hips lifted to meet hers, driving himself deeper inside her.
Men. They always showed their hand.
Like taking candy from a baby. All a woman had to do was show a little flesh, spread her legs, and welcome him in for a visit, and they walked right into the bear trap every. Single. Time.