“Fill me up, honey,” I beg unashamedly.
“Honey?” he whispers quietly.
“You like sweet things.” I groan as he thrusts his fingers in harder a couple more times.
“That I do,” he says, kissing the back of my shoulder as he pulls his fingers out abruptly. I whine, hating the emptiness I’m left with. As I feel his cockhead breaching my hole and slippingpast the ring of muscles, I sigh, enjoying the burn. Then ever so slowly he pushes into me, inch by inch.
“Oh, cutie, this is divine. I’ve missed your tight hole. I’ve missed how good it feels with you gripping me.” His breath is hot on the back of my neck as he slowly sinks in and bottoms out. My eyes flutter, bliss at finally feeling so full making me feel drunk on pleasure. His lips graze between my neck and shoulder, where he marked me last time.
“It’s faded,” he whispers against my skin. “Now there’s nothing to show you’re mine.”
“The marks on my skin have faded but not the ones on my heart.” The words slip out, caught up in the moment. But I don’t regret them. Especially when I hear his low shuddering moan.
“Can I do it again?” His voice is rich like treacle, and I would probably let him do anything he wanted.
“Yes,” I whisper, vowing to do something more permanent. He starts moving, slowly at first, and then rolling his hips. His hands hold me round my chest as I grip onto the back of the coach. He sucks a bruise onto my skin and I groan, pain heightening my pleasure.
“Do you remember my promise?” he asks, his voice close to my ear. “Cuando te vea te voy a garchar tan duro que te vas a desmayar.”
“You’re going to fuck me so hard I’ll pass out,” I murmur. I remember it well.
“I’m a man of my word.” He picks up the pace and his thrusts become more violent. I brace myself against the couch, taking everything he’s got and still wanting more.
“And if I pass out? Because if you talk to me in Spanish, it won’t take long.”
“Then I’m here for you, mi amor, I’m here.”
I know enough to understand what he says, and my mouth stretches into a grin as I push back, taking him deeper. He shifts and grips my hips, and the only sound accompanying us is the slapping of flesh and the grunts and moans we make as he pounds into me. I flex my back and he hits my bundle of nerves. Pleasure shoots through me and I gasp, seeing stars.
“That’s it, my cutie. My beautiful Seemon. Come for me. Being in you is like heaven,” he croons against my back as he keeps up his relentless pace, hammering my prostate until I’m floating and can’t feel my own body. “I want you to milk me. Milk me, cutie, and I’ll feed it to you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I can’t nod; I can only utter a sound which is something like a yes. My balls tighten and I know I’m going to come again. This time I don’t fight it; I ride the wave of pleasure.
“That’s it, Seemon. Come for me, good boy, come for me.” My orgasm crashes into me, a stormy sea hitting the shore. “Fuck, that’s it,” he shouts as he spasms, and I feel his cum filling me up.
I rest my arms on the back of the couch and lay my head on them, spent and sated. He withdraws slowly and I feel his fingers against my hole, probing and scooping up everything he put in me. He sits on the couch and pulls me into his lap. This time he does offer me his fingers. He rubs them over my lips, smearing cum on them before he slips them into my mouth and I suck on them, savouring every drop. The delight in his eyes makes my stomach flip and my heart dance. He takes his fingers back, andwith a hand on the back of my neck, he pulls me to him and licks across my lips, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth and tasting it before I get lost in his kiss.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ANDRÉS
It’s a pale and watery winter light that greets me as I open my eyes. I blink into the familiar room, the house that’s become home over the last month. It looks the same but I know it’s not. Everything is different now. Now it’s full of Simon, and he doesn’t have to leave for an early work shift, or sneak around so he’s not seen. He shifts slightly in his sleep and I look over at him. His hair is mussed and his face relaxed making him look younger than he is. I know that behind his cute smile and sparkling blue eyes is a will of iron and a fierce independence. One he’s had to create as he’s been on his own for so long. I admire that about him, that he’s forged a path and career for himself, even though life hasn’t been kind to him. He’s tough, a survivor. I know that if I want him to let me into his life fully, I have to respect that. And I want nothing more than to be a part of his life and for him to be part of mine.
He slowly opens his eyes, a smile gracing his lips as he sees me watching him. His beauty takes my breath away.
“Why are you smirking?”
“I’m not smirking,” I protest.
“Of course you are, it’s the first thing I noticed about you,” he says trying to look serious.
“The first thing?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Definitely.” He nods. “Most people have a resting bitch face, but your default is a smirk. It’s a good thing I love it.” He raises himself up on his elbow and leans over to kiss me. “Now, why were you smirking at me?”
“Because I’m happy you’re here, and I was trying to work out if we should have breakfast in bed or go out for it.”
He considers for a moment. “I like the idea of going out, but where would we go?”
