Miguel needs someone to take care of him too. But, not in this nurturing way, his love language is clearly acts of service so, how can I serve him?
Maybe what he needs from me is simply to let him be in control.
“You had a lot of fun showing Mr. Death Wish who I belonged to.” I mutter as he gets out the ingredients..
“I couldn’t show him the way I wanted to.” Miguel says as he leaves the sandwich fixings and crosses the room to sit next to me on the sofa.
My eyes widen with each step closer he takes and my heart skips a beat when his fingers trace along my thighs.
“No? How did you want to show him?” I tease on whispered breath.
But the joke is on me, because Miguel pulls me roughly onto his lap and between my bike shorts and his thin workout shorts I can feel exactly how he plans to claim me.
His hands roughly grip each side of my jaw as he pulls my lips to his and with all the intensity of our workout we devour each other. His familiar hint of cinnamon taste blends with the sweat of our effort and I find myself inhaling deeply through my nose to get more of him.
One hand trails down my back and grips my ass tightly.
“You up for a little cardio?” He growls against my collar bone.
“Yes.” I pant.
“Let’s see then.” And he guides me off his lap. As I stand before him he peppers kisses down my abdomen and then drags my shorts down to my ankles. He holds my hips as I step out of them and then he reaches up and helps to tug off my sports bra.
I can feel the salt and grime on my skin from the dried sweat. I can only imagine how rank things smell between my legs.
A tiny step back on my part causes Miguel to reach up and roughly grip my thigh.
“Stay put.” He commands and I do.
I don’t know what to do with my hands until Miguel starts to pull his shirt over his head and I reach forward to help free him of the fabric. My hands rest on his shoulders as he lifts his hips and pulls his shorts and boxer briefs down together. His cock stands proudly against his stomach and suddenly I don’t care at all how sweaty we were.
The desire for him in my mouth is almost intensified knowing he’ll taste sweaty.
Before I can sink to my knees Miguel slides his fingers along my seam and my knees wobble.
“Laney baby, you’re soaked.” Miguel whispers as his thick fingers caress my pussy.
Yes, yes.I chant in my head, starting to feel dizzy with the lust consuming my body. He runs his hand from my ass, lightly caressing my thigh, until he gets to my knee and he guides my leg up to the couch next to him. With my foot on the edge of the cushion, and his shoulder along my knee, I’m exposed and vulnerable and yet I know his only objective is to take care of me.
Miguel’s thumb pushes against my clit as he sinks one finger, then two, inside me. Working me to the brink. He bites gently across my stomach to my hip bones as he fingers me until I’m trembling and barely able to stand.
My nails dig into his shoulders and my hips curl and jerk as my orgasm ricochets through my body.
“Do I need a condom?” Miguel asks.
“I have an IUD.”
“Do you want me to use a condom? I haven’t been with anyone lately, and I’m clean, last time I checked.” He says as he continues to pulse his fingers inside me.
“I need your cock, Miguel.” I answer. “Now, no condom, I need you filling me.”
“Fuck Princess.” He curses as he slides his fingers out of me and grips my thighs pulling me forward as he leans back on the sofa.
I straddle him and reach for his fingers. I pull them past my lips and suck myself off him. Instead of pulling his fingers out he pushes them to the back of my throat and I gag.
“Good girl, now, spit.” He turns his hand around so his palm is facing up.
Without thinking I pull saliva to my lips and drop it into his waiting hand.
