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I wrapped my hand around his length and stroked him from base to tip, swiping my thumb over the head of his cock with every pass. His body bowed, and the scream he’d held behind clenched teeth forced its way out, piercing my ears.

“Papi!”

That was it—the confirmation of all my suspicions. Him calling me Papi when he was most vulnerable lit my soul on fire, and I lost the last bit of control I had. Rising on my knees, I kept stroking him through his climax, pulling his ass into my lap. I held him there as I fucked him. Like a savage beast. My cock plunged in and out of his hole as I watched the puckered opening spasm around my shaft. My nuts throbbed with the need for release.

It felt just out of reach. I was right there, on the precipice, waiting. I chased it, thrusting harder and faster. Then, finally, pleasure detonated at the base of my spine. The shock wave blew through me, bursting from me.

A roar like a motherfucking lion ripped from my chest, and my head dropped back onto my shoulders. My hips jerked, my ass clenching as I shoved my cock as far into him as I could, and my cock pulsed as I came, filling him.

Dropping onto the sofa next to him, I twisted us so I didn’t crush the man. Although, unlike all my previous partners, he probably could’ve taken the full weight of me. I pulled him into my arms and languished in the feel of him against me.

Silence stretched between us. Our breaths slowed. Sweat cooled our heated skin, and as I relaxed against him, he tensed up. I kissed him softly. Tender wasn’t something anyone used to describe me. I fucked. Hard. Fast. Savagely. But tender… yeah, no. Even with the bitch or Lucia, the only two people I’d ever done repeats with.

I pulled away from his lips, rubbed my nose against his, then opened my eyes to stare into his.

“Whatever is worrying you, just let it go, carinõ.”

Sparkling white teeth bit down on his kiss-swollen bottom lip, chewing it.

“I need to go,” he said, pushing himself out of my arms.

I followed him to the kitchen, where his clothes were.

“I can’t make you stay, but vato?—”

“Fucking stop calling me that.”

I held my hands out and lowered my voice. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m not a fucking sub or a boy, so quit treating me like one. And if this is you trying to provide aftercare, stop.”

“If that’s what you want, I can do that, but what we shared was intense…”

“It was fucking. You fucked me. That’s it.”

“Yes. I did, and I didn’t mean it was only intense for you. Aftercare isn’t just for the sub. Declan, you screw with my head.”

He paused, his pants held out in front of him, his leg raised off the floor. If the situation wasn’t so serious, it would have been comical. I waited, hoping. Fucking praying he’d settle down enough for me, us, to check in with each other. Otherwise, I feared a drop would happen for us both.

Hell, it had already started for me because I feared I pushed him too hard and failed to check in enough.

A deep, huffing sigh filled the room, and he tugged on his pants, zipping them but leaving the button undone. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Fuck, he was sexy. The image of a shirtless, barefooted man in jeans lived in my spank bank, and the sight of him topped all the others.

“Saying you screw with my head is the understatement of the century, but I don’t have words to describe it.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to rush out, I sagged as relief swamped my system.

“And put that thing away. My ass is done for,” he said as he waved at my cock.

I chuckled and went back to the living room for my pants. I did them up to match his and then grabbed my t-shirt.

“Better?” I asked.

“Fuck no. You’re just as sexy in clothes as you are out of them. Just shoot me in the head if I ever catch a glimpse of you in uniform.”

“You got a thing for uniforms, vato.”