Then he’s on me, mouth on my throat, dragging his tongue across the soft skin until I cry out, hips arching into him. His hands find my waist, my ribs, my ass with a desperation I’ve never experienced. He’s learning me. Worshipping me.
With clumsy fingers, I reach for his shirt and undo it, one button at a time. Santiago’s chest is a study in heat and sinew. Muscle carved beneath bronze skin. My palm runs down his sternum and he trembles under it. When the last button opens, he shrugs out of the shirt.
I swear, the sight of him bare makes my lungs seize.
He lowers me back into the bed, mouth moving with determination. Down my neck, across my collarbone, to the swell of my breast. When he sucks a nipple into his mouth, his tongue lashes rhythmically. The friction detonates pleasure straight to my pussy. My fingersclaw at the sheets, thighs pressed together aching for something to fill the void in between them.
“Holy fuck, you’re astonishing,” Santiago moans into my skin. “God, Rosa, I’ve got to feel how wet you are for me.”
His hand cups me through the flimsy lace. Then he peels my panties down in a single, fluid motion, like he’s unwrapping something too precious to tear.
Seconds later, his fingers slide over my slick heat, stroking my clit in torturous circles. Building. Breaking and building again. My back bows as I utter a soundless gasp.
He watches my reaction, eyes molten, lips parted like he’s praying.
When he decisively slips two fingers inside me, he curls them just so and my vision stutters. It’s not just penetration, it’s possession. He finds my secret place and drags over it again. And again. My legs shake. My whimpers are loud, uncontrolled.
“Right there,” he growls when he hits me just so. “I’ve found it.”
I fist the sheets, teeth clenched, breath ragged as he strokes the spot over and over. When I’m about totip—
He stops.
I nearly sob with frustration. “Santiago—”
“If you’re okay with it, I’d like to be inside you. The first time I make you come, I want to feel you squeeze my cock.” He kneels between my thighs and yanks his boxer briefs down and off. His impressive shaft is flush on his belly. He strokes himself once, twice, eyes locked on mine, before guiding the head to my entrance.
“I can’t come this way,” I sadly admit, trying to close my legs.
“Rosa.” Santiago breathes and presses my legs apart with his knees. “I promise. Tonight is the final night you’ll ever be able to say such a horrible thing. I’ll make sure of it.”
His cock hovers, the tip scarcely breaching my entrance while he waits for permission.
God, I want him to be right. Before I can reconsider, I nod once.
He sinks in slow, inch by maddening inch, until he’s buried to the hilt, his hips flush with mine.
Despite how wet I am, the stretch is hot, thick, overwhelming. A burn melting into bliss. For a breathless moment, he holds himself there, eyes locked on mine as I adjustto his size.
When my pussy relaxes, he draws back and thrusts deep. Once. Twice. By the third pass, we begin to move in a rhythm older than language. His hips grind into mine. I rise to meet every pulse. His hand tangles in my hair, the other grips my thigh to anchor me in place. Our bodies slap wet and frantic, sweat-slick and shimmering in the dark. My nails dig into his back. Groaning. Panting.
“Your body is made for sin,” he grits. “I’m gonna worship every fucking inch of you.”
My climax hits me without warning and crests like a wave. Unforgiving, immense. It slams through my body into my core, which locks around him.
Every muscle taut. Every nerve electric.
I cry out, raw and holy. If this is what it means to be claimed.
I’m all in.
We collapse together in a slow, gasping tangle. His weight presses me into the mattress, arms quaking as he braces himself above me.
Neither of us speaks at first. Words seem irrelevant. Too small for what we experienced.
He shifts gently, pulling out as he trails a kiss down the side of my neck. When he lays next to me, I’m surprised when his rigid cock burrows into my hip.
At first I’m impressed by his stamina.
