Chapter 73

Picasso continued out of bed, opening the nightstand, cursed when he found nothing but papers, so he looked inside his own pants. He removed his wallet and took a condom. At least I was aware of the danger. Still without looking at me, he opened the package, wrapped his cock with the material already lubricated and then stared at me.

I felt almost as if he had touched me. I even settled better in bed, in the face of the power of that look. Picasso didn't say anything else. He didn't want to prolong that any longer either. He was the owner of the favela, and I was the undercover police officer, we never knew when we would have enough time for anything. And he should have the impression that if he let me get out of there, he might never finish with that.

As long as the room was filled with that heat, and the bedroom window was sutured by the cold outside, I would continue to be very surrendered to that desire. Nothing worried my head anymore. And I didn't ev