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This. In one quick move, I tenderly grasp her wrist and latch the handcuff onto one of them on
the side opposite of her hurt shoulder, and then hook it to the bedpost. I ve spent a lot of years going
without, but that doesn t mean I haven t had fantasies.
I run my hands across her collarbones and down along the ridges of her rib cage. She feels like the
most expensive silk the East has ever produced. You okay? This isn t hurting you? Her shoulder is
still tender.
Oh yeah, she breathes out. I smooth my hands down her arms, testing to make sure that she s
comfortable. My hands move up to cup her tits, and my thumbs rub her nipples, which have hardened
into tight points. Pinch them, she says.
I do as she tells me and she shudders. More? I ask. She nods and I pinch harder. Her legs
squeeze together and then release. No fantasy has ever been this good.
I want to suck on those tits and fuck you with my cock while you re handcuffed to the bed. You
good with that?
Yes, please. Her sweet cunt clenches again in anticipation.
I palm her ass in one hand and grip myself in the other. She widens her legs and we share a gasp
as I position the broad head of my shaft at her wet entrance. She s always so wet for me, so ready.
Now? I ask.
She nods, lip caught between two rows of perfect teeth. I slide into her carefully, pausing at each
juncture to make sure she s comfortable, that this is the right side of pleasure for her.
Keep going, baby. I have to have you in me now! Her demands cut through the straining tether of
my self-control. I slam the rest of the way in until my balls are slapping her ass. She cries out but by
now I recognize that high keening noise as one of utter fucking delight. God, I feel everything with
you. Everything. Hurry now, she orders and then pushes up, grinding her hips against mine.
I let her fuck me, using me as I latch onto one nipple. Lightly restrained, with my big paws
clamped around her hips and my mouth devouring her tit, she owns me completely. She rides me with
abandon, grinding her clit against my pubic bone, shafting herself on my cock until her head lolls back
because it s too heavy for her to hold it up. I take over then.
I thrust into her, jacking her until her tits are bouncing, her hair is swinging, and her entire body is
one jagged erotic motion. I fuck her until there are stars in my eyes and the whole of my heart
detonates like a bomb. She s not the last hope in the world; she s the only hope for me.
EPILOGUE
AVA
It s been a month now, and I m still coming to terms with Rose s death. I catch myself wanting to call
her to tell her a funny joke, or I see a dress on one of the island ladies and think, oh, that would look
great on Rose. Then I remember that my best friend is dead, and there s no getting past the pain.
Maybe there s never a way past the pain.
Rose is in my dreams, though. She visits from time to time, and she s always smiling and happy.
Maybe because that s how I saw her in life, that s how I choose to see her in death. It s all right,
though. Someday, those dreams are going to disappear, so I cherish them while I have them.
I ve been on the island for a few weeks, and every day feels like . . . well, to be cliché, it s
paradise. I wake up to freshly made, delicious food and the scent of the ocean on the air. I wake up in
the hard, muscled arms of the man who fucked me six ways from Sunday the night before. He kisses
my brow and touches me all over, and we usually have sex before we start the day, because we can t
get enough of each other.
One month isn t enough time to get tired of Rafe Mendoza. One year, one lifetime it ll never be
enough. He s like an addiction to me, and one I find I crave more as the hours pass. His smile is
better than any narcotic, and when he holds me under him and pushes so deep inside me, I feel . . .
everything.
I ve come to love life here on the island. It s weird. When I was in New York City, I was the den
mother to a bunch of skinny models who wanted to smoke all day and talk about the food they
wouldn t eat. I didn t think twice about it; I just stepped into the role and took care of them.
Here on the island, I m the den mother to dozens of ladies who have been used hard in life. They
come to me for all kinds of things, from small complaints about laundry soap to bigger issues like
sickness and babies and romantic advice. Because I m Mendoza s lady, I m the leader of the
women here. I m den mother all over again, except instead of herding a bunch of skinny chain-
smoking models, I m herding a bunch of young women with tired eyes who have seen too much life.
I m handed babies and asked advice about cooking, laundry, nutrition, and a million things I ve never
considered before, but which are now of grave importance. These women on the island are bringing
themselves up from nothing. They are starting over, or trying to, and they need help.
It s become my new goal to bring joy to their faces. To make the world a safer place for them. To
give them hope.
Because that s what Rafe Mendoza has done for me. He s given me a new world to live for, and
new hope every day. He s given me a new family that welcomes me with open arms. They don t care
that I had the world s silliest job in the past. What s important is that I m here now, and I want to
help.
And Rafe? Rafe is amazing. He s the best man in the world. I don t care that he s a contract killer
and that s how these men make a living. I don t care that sometimes Rafe has to leave in the middle of
the night to mete out justice. That s how they make the money to save these women and men that are in
hiding here. I like to believe that the good that they re doing far outweighs the bad, and when I m
handed a crying child that was born to a once-crack-addicted mother from a whorehouse? When I
look into that baby s eyes, I see the life we can give it. The hope we can give it. This child isn t going
to grow up on the streets selling itself to pedophiles to make its mother enough money for a drug hit.
It s going to grow up here in an island paradise made safe by men who risk their lives to make their
new family one worth coming home to.
Because the Tears of God is all about hope. And to me, Rafe is about hope. He s my life, and my
love. I look into his eyes and see the hungry way he looks at me, and I know I m looking at him the
same way. And I can t regret a single moment, a single hour, a single minute of our time together.
Rafe s my life, and I m his. May we go on forever this way.
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