I run my hands up his naked thighs. I’m in control of myself, yet he’s controlling me. I’m controlling his pleasure, yet I’m obtaining pleasure from pleasuring him. It’s nearly too natural—our now-naked bodies parallel and panting.
I take him in my mouth, the way I did his fingers. Soft, long strokes of my tongue and wisps of hot breath elicit strong verbal reactions that spur me on. My eagerness mounts in time with my speed. I try different tempos, allowing his shudders to dictate the pressure, the depth. The repetitive act is a calming reset.
His hands stitch through my hair, gripping at the roots. Guiding me toward what he likes. It feels amazing.
When it becomes too much for him, he switches it up, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “My turn,” he purrs. He returns the favor with vigor.
Seeing him there—not just anyone, butHector Martinez—between my thighs is enough to make me short-circuit. The edge—the oh-so-tempting edge—creeps closer, building and building beneath my red-hot skin. And right before I teeter too far, he slips a condom and lube out of a drawer in the entertainment console, as if last night had been foreshadowing this all along and he knew the prelude would pull us here. We both stop, uncertain. We’re doing the who’s-on-first bit with our eyes (as if the bit were about bottoming and not about baseball).
“I want you inside me,” he whispers.
I couldn’t be more game. It takes time and patience, gentle fingers and one of the smaller sex toys from his well-hidden collection. He’s a beautiful mess of whimpering moans and satisfied smiles. When he can’t take it any longer, the begging starts, and even though this role reversal is like a symphony to my ears, I don’t make him wait…too long.
I suit up and slip inside him with some expected trial and error.
“There,” he groans when I get it right. “There.”
A newfound bliss billows through my body once I settle into position. We holdtherefor a minute, two minutes, gasping, before beginning to rock in time with each other. Our communal breath becomes labored, and our bodies are ablaze.
“Are you okay? Does this feel okay?” I ask, noticing the profound emotion evident on his face.
“It feels more than okay,” he chokes out. His hands find the back of my neck and he pulls me into a deep kiss.
We aren’t just having sex; we’re taking an oath to be tender and true. For now? For forever? Who’s to say for sure? There are only this moment and the next few days.
And a while later, after we both come, I resign myself to the fact that’s okay. Not everything can be as cut-and-dried as it is on the page or in my mind. There are infinite possibilities for what’s ahead, and whichever possibility plays out, I’ll make peace with it.
I curl into his pleasingly sweaty body right as he whispers, “We make a good team.”
I quiver in agreement, thinking back on our baking challenge. Never has he sounded so sure, so settled on the idea of us as a pair.
Minutes go by before he shifts from our cuddle, stands, and offers me a hand. He grabs a set of towels from the rack near the door and we head into the bathroom together.
The water runs cold for a while before anything warm enough to step into spits out. Under the low shower head, rotating in and out of the steam, he takes the bar of soap from the dish and begins to lather it in his hands. With reverent strokes, he scrubs my chest, my back, my arms, my everything.
It’s scarily intimate, yet invigorating. And when not a single toe hasn’t been given its own attention, I return the favor. I allow my palms to become explorers on an expedition of uncharted crevices. They wander the hollows of his underarms and the dimple in his lower back, until he’s softly moaning my name once more. I take this moment to snap as many mental pictures as I can.
“Round two?” I ask, wiping the water from my eyes, not wanting to ignore his growing fullness any longer.
A wicked grin gives away his enthusiastic answer.
Chapter 30
The night air nips at my puffy cheeks as we exit the Great Hall a little after 10:00 p.m. The paths are salted and clear for our guests. The parking lot is devoid of other cars, thanks to all the students being home for the holidays. It’s just me, Hector, and the starry sky.
Everything is done now. Displays are set. Auction items are locked up. Guest lists are confirmed. The event is sold out. Grandma says it’s the first time in four years that has happened. It doesn’t feel like I can relax yet though. The execution is the most daunting part. Tomorrow night will be the true test of our work. Will it all come together? Or will it all come crashing down in one dramatic flourish? Only time will tell.
When we get to Hector’s car, he stops and looks at his keys.
“Here,” he says, handing them over.
“We are not playing this game again,” I say.
“Come on. A few laps around the parking lot? You taught me how to waltz. I think it’s time I teach you a lesson or two.”
“I can think of a few other lessons I’d like you to teach me…”
He frowns at me, but there’s a speck of intrigue there too. “Be serious for a second.”
