“Me either, but I made the effort, Santi,” she said as she grazed her hand over the round head of his dick, gripped it, and squeezed.
“Effort fucking wasted,” he growled, quickly maneuvering her onto her back. He straddled her thighs and stripped her of her tank top and pajama shorts.
And now they were both naked. Both stripped bare. Both vulnerable.
His gaze was hungry, devouring her, but he remained still, like an animal waiting on the command to attack.
“Do your best, or your worst, Stillwater, but whatever you do, be nasty about it.”
He grinned, dragging his hands from her knees, up her thighs, and bringing them together to cover her pubic area. His fingers played in her slick arousal, saturating her engorged clit, causing her hips to buck with each contact.
“If this was all I had to do to keep you silent, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”
She narrowed her gaze, ready to say something out-of-pocket, but he plunged three fingers deep inside of her.
She cried out in shock, then groaned.
Pulling one hand from her body, he braced it beside her head. His other thumb worked over her clit as his fingers stroked in and out of her at a chaotic tempo that drove her hips off the bed in a rhythm he ruthlessly controlled. She came violently. His fingers broke something inside her. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. She tried to wipe them away, burning with embarrassment. Santi pulled his fingers from her body and pinned her wrists beside her head. Lowering his body on top of hers, wedging his thighs between her legs, his dick between her outer lips; he kissed her until she was breathless, licking the salty tear tracks from her face.
“Now sing for me, little wren.”
“Wha...what?”
“Sing.”
He thrust inside of her and her eyes rolled to the back of her head as if possessed, her spine arching off the bed.
Santiago fucked her like he didn’t care about her, like he didn’t care about anything but her screams and incoherent mutterings. Grunting, he gathered her legs until her knees were beside her ears and…
“Santi!” she screamed as she broke again. He was too deep, she had to tell him…
“Sing for me, little wren.”
He thrusts became wild and chaotic.
“Oh God!” she cried desperately. She couldn’t take… He was too deep.
“Santi, Santi, Santi….” An invocation, a benediction. She clawed at his back, his ass.
He shouted, breaking inside her. She felt the heat of his eruption and her body shattered all over again, her pussy greedily sucking him deep into her core.
Her hips sporadically jerked with aftershocks and when they calmed, she slipped out of consciousness, for how long she didn’t know, but when she woke up again she was on her stomach spread eagle.
She didn’t immediately sense Santiago but when the bathroom door opened, she cocked her head around to see him walk out with a box of condoms before he turned out the bathroom light and the bedroom became deeply shadowed again.
“We didn’t use a condom,” she muttered, already slipping back into the arms of sleep. She didn’t believe she could ever trust another person when she came here but she’d trusted him with her unprotected self.
“I told you, wren; the only thing you’re going to contract from me is the triple S.”
She snorted. Santiago Stillwater Syndrome. How could she forget?
He tossed the condoms on the end table.
“I’m too old and tired to risk fatherhood again.”
“Not something you have to worry about with me. I had a hysterectomy years ago. Now, that reality of childlessness is a freedom I’d be hard pressed to give up; too used to living life on my terms.”
Maybe that’s why Derrick had unprotected sex with Lahn, maybe that was his fucked-up roundabout way of telling her that he did in fact want children.
