We’re meant to be together.
He leans back on the pillows, taking me with him. There’s so much heat still in the air, even more of him inside me—in my body, my head, my breath.
We’ve slipped into a different kind of space. Not morning. Not night. A suspended reality and the knowledge our lives have changed forever.
Santiago strokes my back, his chest still rising beneath mine, slow and steady.
God, I belong here. I never want to leave this bubble.
“Come on,” he murmurs into my hair. “We’re a mess. Let me wash you.”
He lifts me gently off him, and I whimper at the wet slide of his cock slipping free. He’s right, of course, we’re utterly ruined. He’s dripping out of me, hot and thick. He carries me to the bathroom, arms strong beneath my thighs, turns the shower on full-force. The moment he sets me on my feet, the warm mist envelopes us.
He steps in behind me, soap already in his hands and begins to wash me like it’s an act of devotion. His palms trace down my spine, across the curve of my waist and then between my legs with gentle, slow sweeps. His fingers slide carefully over every tender place, cleaning me before the water rinses it away.
My legs are weak so I lean back into him, eyes fluttering shut.
He walks us back to the tiled wall and sits on the built-in bench, spreading his legs wide. “Sit on my lap.” He grips my hips to pull me down.
I turn, confused for a moment, but he tugs my hand. “Lean back on me, thighs over mine.”
Lowering myself into his lap, I straddle him, facing out. The thick heat of his cock presses up between my folds. How can he already be hard for me again?
This is madness.
He slides into me with no resistance, his hands resting on my hips, holding me in place. Neither of us have any energy left so he doesn’t fuck me. Or even move. We sit joined, my back against his chest, his cock buried inside me, water cascading over our skin in soft, steady sheets.
“Do you realize how perfectly we fit?” His lips brush my ear.
“Yes,” I breathe. “You fill me perfectly.”
His teeth graze my earlobe, and I shudder.
Then his right hand slides up, cupping one breast, fingers slick with soap. He rubs his thumb over my nipple, until it peaks under his touch. His left hand drops lower, between my legs, and he circles my clit with the gentlest pressure.
Not rushed. Not demanding.
“Santiago…” I gasp. I’m so raw I can’t help but squirm.
“I want you to come again.” His velvety voice cloaks me. “Let go entirely. It willfindyou. Give in to the sensations. Stay out of your head.”
His words wrap around me like a spell.
He pinches my nipple gently, circles my clit. His cock roots me to him. In this position, the stretch, the pressure along my front wall is perfect.Grounding.
I clench him tightly and let go. Repeat. Lie back and allow my subtle movement to align with my breath.
“Yes, Rosa. Release for me.”
There’s no thrusting. No pounding. His fingers tease and coax my clit and nipple while I clench.
Like wildfire, it whooshes through me. An electric sensation from my toes up through my core. I come with a shattered gasp, breath torn from me like silk through fingers.
Santiago’s arms remain banded around me. Fingers on my clit. Light pinches to my nipples. His mouth pressing kisses along my neck as I shake and shudder. This intensifies the situation as aftershock after aftershock rolls through me. I sob softly, unable to hold it in.
When the spasms finally recede a bit, I slump back, every part of me trembling. He kisses my shoulder, my neck, my jaw and then lips as his hands run up and down my soaked skin.
“Rosa,” he whispers. “See? You weremadefor this. For me.”
