Chapter 11 Tempting Flames
Isabella
The Mexican sun beat down on the dusty streets of Puerto Vallarta like a relentless lover, scorching my skin even through the thin sarong I wore over my bikini. We'd been here a week holed up in a rented beach cabana that smelled of salt and cheap tequila, far from the neon motels and desert graves we'd left behind. Richard promised it was paradise: piña coladas by day, his thick cock buried in my wet pussy by night. But the texts kept coming V3: Loose ends in the States. Clean house or I do and with each one, the cracks in our "forever" widened. He swore it was nothing, just echoes of Victor's network, but I saw the way he checked his phone when he thought I slept, his face hardening like he was plotting again. Like I was the next body in the sand.
Doubt festered, turning our fucks from passionate to frantic, as if he could thrust away the lies. Last night, after another anonymous buzz—"She's marked. 20k to finish." I'd pinned him down, riding his cock reverse while demanding answers. "Who, Daddy? Me?" I'd gasped, bouncing hard, my ass slapping his thighs.
"No one," he'd groaned, spanking me red. "Just noise. Cum for me, baby forget it."
I'd clenched around him, milking his cum deep, but the seed of betrayal had taken root. If he could play me with Emily, with Lydia's threats, why not replace me too? I needed leverage. Proof. Or revenge. That's why, this afternoon, while he "handled business" at a shady cantina meeting with a local contact, I slipped away to the beach bar, my body humming with a dangerous thrill. My pussy was already wet, not for him, but for the power of what I was about to do fuck someone else, feel desired without the poison and paranoia.
The bar was a ramshackle affair, thatched roof and stools carved from driftwood, filled with sunburned tourists and locals nursing Coronas. I ordered a margarita, salt rim biting my lips as I scanned the crowd. That's when I saw him: Javier, the bartender's cousin or something tall, bronzed, with tattoos snaking up his arms like vines, and eyes that stripped you bare. Mid-30s, maybe, with a lazy smile and a shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the V of his chest. He'd been eyeing me all week when Richard and I came for drinks, but today, alone, his gaze lingered.
"Another, señorita?" he asked, leaning over the bar, his accent thick like honey. Up close, he smelled of ocean and spice, his forearms corded from hauling ice.
I smiled, slow and sultry, crossing my legs to let the sarong part, revealing the curve of my thigh. "Make it a double. And call me Isabella."
"Javier," he replied, pouring with a flourish, his fingers brushing mine as he handed it over. Electricity sparked nothing like Richard's possessive grip, but fresh, uncomplicated. "You look... troubled. The man with you is not treating you right?"
I sipped, the lime tang sharp on my tongue, mirroring the twist in my gut. "He's... complicated. What about you? No woman dragging you down?"
He laughed, low and rumbling, wiping the bar with a rag that did nothing to hide how his eyes dipped to my cleavage. "Complicated too. But tonight? Free. Dance with me later? The cantina down the beach has live music."
My pussy throbbed at the invitation, a betrayal I craved. "Maybe. If you tell me something first, "What's a girl like me doing for fun around here?"
His smile widened, predatory now. "Depends on the fun. Private beach walks. Or... my place. Above the bar. Quiet. With a view."
I leaned in, my breath warm against his ear. "Show me the view now?"
He didn't hesitate, locking up quickly and leading me up a rickety staircase behind the bar. His apartment was a sparse hammock by the window overlooking the waves, a bed with white sheets rumpled like an invitation, bottles of mezcal on a shelf. The door clicked shut, and he turned, backing me against it, his body heat enveloping me.
"You're playing with fire, Isabella," he murmured, his hand tracing my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip. "That man he comes looking for..."
"Let him," I whispered, my voice breathy, heart racing. This was it. For doubt. For control. My hands went to his shirt, unbuttoning fully, revealing a chest dusted with dark hair, muscles honed from labor. "I want this. You."
He groaned, capturing my mouth in a kiss that was all hunger, no games, just raw need. His tongue danced with mine, tasting of salt and beer, his hands roaming down to untie my sarong, letting it pool at my feet. I stood in just my bikini, nipples hardening under the thin fabric as he cupped my breasts, thumbs circling the peaks.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," he said, pulling back to look, his cock straining against his shorts. "Wet already? For me?"
I nodded, bold, slipping a hand down to feel him thick, not as girthy as Richard's, but long, promising. "Touch me. See."
He dropped to his knees, yanking my bikini bottoms aside, his mouth on my pussy in seconds. I gasped, fingers tangling in his hair as his tongue lapped at my folds, expert and eager. "So wet, Isabella. It tastes like sin." He sucked my clit, fingers plunging deep two, then three curling just right.
"Oh god," I moaned, hips bucking. This was different: no whispers of poison, no threats mid-thrust. Just pleasure, pure and selfish. "Don't stop. Tell me... what you'd do to me all night."
He hummed against me, vibrations sending shocks through my core. "Eat this sweet pussy till you scream. Then bend you over, fuck you slow. Make you forget him." His fingers pumped faster, tongue flicking relentlessly.
I came hard, thighs shaking, flooding his mouth. "Yes... Javier..."
He stood, shedding his shorts, his cock springing free veined, curved slightly, pre-cum beading at the tip. "On the bed. Spread it for me."
I obeyed, bikini top discarded, legs wide as he crawled over, teasing my entrance with his cockhead. "Beg, princesa. Tell me you want my cock."
"Please," I panted, nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck me. Fill my pussy."
He thrust in deep, groaning as I clenched around him. "Tight... so fucking tight." He started a rhythm, steady and deep, his hips rolling to hit that spot inside. We talked dirty through it, words tumbling like waves.
"Harder," I demanded, wrapping my legs around him. "Like you own me."
"I do, tonight," he grunted, pounding faster, one hand pinning my wrist above my head. "Your pussy's gripping me like it never wants to let go. Better than him?"
I hesitated, but the lie came easy, fueled by spite. "Yes. Your cock feels... perfect." It did in a way. Lighter, freer, without the weight of bodies in our wake.
He flipped me onto all fours, entering from behind, his hand fisting my hair. "Look at the ocean while I fuck you. Imagine us running away."
The view blurred waves crashing, sun dipping low as he slammed in, balls slapping my clit. "Cum inside me," I begged, pushing back. "Mark me."
With a roar, he did, hot spurts filling me as I shattered again, pussy pulsing. We collapsed, panting, his arm around me. "Stay the night," he murmured, kissing my shoulder. "Forget him."
I almost did. We talked then lazy, post-fuck haze. He was a fisherman by trade, ex-pat from the city, no ties. "You deserve something simple, Isabella. Passion without chains."
"Chains?" I echoed, tracing his tattoos, a serpent, a rose. "Like secrets?"
He nodded, serious now. "Saw you with him. Tense. Like he's hiding bodies."
My blood chilled, but I laughed it off. "Figuratively."
"Literally?" His eyes searched mine, too knowing. "This town... whispers travel. American couple, running. Missing women back home."
Heart pounding, I sat up, cum trickling down my thigh. "What do you know?"
He shrugged, but his hand stayed on my hip. "Enough to help. For a price. Or... for you."
Leverage. Perfect. "Tell me more. While you touch me again."
He grinned, fingers sliding between my legs, dipping into the mess. "Another man Victor? Connected to cartels. Dead now, they say. But his network... V3? That's Marco Ruiz. Local fixer. Hired for jobs like yours."
V3—Marco. Here? My mind raced Richard's "contact" today. Was this the meeting? Selling me out?
Javier's fingers curled inside, thumb on my clit. "Relax. I can get info. But you stay. Fuck me again."
I moaned, spreading wider. "Deal. Now... eat me clean."
He did, tongue lapping his own cum from my pussy, making me writhe. "Tastes better mixed," he murmured. "Now, suck my cock. Get me hard for round two."
I knelt, taking him deep, swirling my tongue as he hardened. "Tell me about Marco. While I blow you."
He groaned, hand in my hair. "Ruthless. Works with Americans like your man. Cleans messes bodies, trails. If V3's texting... you're marked."
I deepthroated him, gagging slightly, tears pricking. "And Richard? Meeting him today?"
Javier thrust gently. "Probably. Heard whispers gringo paying for silence. On a girl."
Me. Rage surged, but I channeled it, sucking harder. "Fuck my mouth. Pretend I'm her."
He did, grunting, then pulled me up, bending me over the windowsill. The beach below empty, waves roaring as he entered me again, rougher now. "Your pussy's addictive. Stay with me. Ditch him."
"Tempting," I gasped, watching pelicans dive. "What if I need... protection?"
"Then I am that," he promised, spanking me. "Cum with me, Isabella. Decide after."
We did, his cock pulsing deep as I clenched, orgasm ripping through. After, tangled in sheets, he talked more about Marco's haunts, Richard's possible betrayal. "He's using you. For money? Or thrill?"
"Both," I admitted softly, my hand on his chest. "But I love him."
"Foolish," Javier said, kissing me slowly. "Love like that kills."
Irony hit, but his cock stirred against me. "One more time. Missionary. Look at me."
He entered slowly, eyes locked. "You're mine if you want."
I wrapped around him, whispering fantasies no poison, just us on his boat, fucking under stars. He came whispering my name, and for a moment, I believed it.
But my phone buzzed Richard: Where are you? Need you now.
Guilt and excitement twisted. I texted back: Beach bar. Coming.
Javier watched. "Go. But come back. The door's open."
I dressed, kissing him deep. "Maybe."
Downstairs, the bar empty, I slipped out. Richard waited at the cabana, pacing, phone in hand. "Isabella! Fuck, I was worried."
"Worried?" I snapped, shoving him inside. "Or checking with Marco?"
His eyes widened. "What—"
"I know, Daddy. V3. Your fixer. Selling me out?"
He grabbed my arms, pulling me close, his cock hardening against me. "No. Meeting to end it. Pay him off."
"Liar," I hissed, but melted as he kissed my neck, hands under my sarong. "I fucked him, you know. Javier. His cock in my pussy. It felt good."
Jealousy flashed in his dark, possessive eyes. "You what?" He spun me, bending me over the table, yanking my bottoms down. "That fisherman slut?"
"Yes," I moaned as his fingers probed my cum-filled pussy. "He ate me out. Filled me. Said you're trouble."
He growled, freeing his cock thicker, familiar thrusting in hard, mixing Javier's cum with his pre. "This pussy is mine. No one else's cock."
"Felt like this," I taunted, pushing back. "Longer. Made me cum twice."
He spanked me, pounding furious. "Liar. Tell me details. While I reclaim you."
I did Javier's tongue, his thrusts each word making Richard fuck harder, jealous rage fueling him. "He knows about Marco," I gasped. "Your meeting. Planning to silence me?"
"No," he grunted, rubbing my clit. "Ending him. For us." He flipped me, legs over his shoulders, slamming deep. "Cum on my cock. Forget him."
I did, screaming, but doubt lingered as he filled me, hot and claiming. Afterwards, he held me. "Don't do that again. You're all mine."
"Prove it," I whispered. "Kill Marco. Tonight."
He nodded, kissing my forehead. "For you."
But as he dressed for the "meeting," I texted Javier: Info on Marco. And... your bed. Tonight.
Revenge or survival? My pussy still b
uzzed from both cocks. The game escalated Richard's jealousy of a weapon, Javier's a shield. But V3 loomed, and I was playing both sides now. Who would break first?