Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Bienvenido al infierno. Welcome to Hell, my friends.
It happens to look and feel quite a lot like heaven.
“The fortune teller said you picked a name. Was she right?” I asked.
Natalia leaned forward, still gyrating on me as her dark hair brushed her shoulders, eyes bright as they met mine. “Mel,” she said. “Short for Oyamel.”
“The forest where the monarchs make their winter homes,” I said. “The one you died in. I cursed those butterflies, mi amor.”
She smiled, her hands curling against my chest. “But I didn’t die,” she said. “They protected me.”
I cupped her jaw, touching my thumb to the corner of her mouth. “Every day I think to myself, I’ve never seen you more beautiful. How is it possible?” I took her hips. “Mel is very nice. Oyamel Cruz de la Rosa.”
“But to the rest of the world, she’ll be Mel Cristina Delgado.”
“Cristina?”
“For her Papá.”
“Do I get a say?” I asked. “We should put Bianca somewhere in there, too. Perhaps we pretend it’s your apellido.”
“And curse her with a long, traditional name?” She smiled. “Yes—let’s. Oyamel Bianca Cristina Delgado.”
“. . . De la Rosa,” I added. “There won’t be any names left for the next girl.”
“Angelina,” she said at once.
My heart threatened to rupture, overflowing with love. Natalia understood what the name meant to me. Angelina it would be.
Natalia’s smile gave way to a moan as she used my chest as leverage to push back on me, her hips sliding back and forth faster.
After she’d been at it a while, I put my hands around the back of her neck and held her in place. I took over with a languid, easy rhythm. “Slow down with me. Relax.”
Apparently, this was what one did in the afterlife. He ate a good meal, drank fine whisky, and fucked his eight months pregnant wife. Nobody had to die. Nobody depended on us for anything. Nobody cared what we did. Because nobody knew we were still alive.
And nobody ever could.
It was a good life. One I was more grateful for considering I’d almost lost it. I had all I needed in my wife and our child—or children, as the old lady would have it.
So now you know the truth. It’s a lot of responsibility. Don’t tell anyone.