“Oh my—fuck—I can’t—” he chokes, barely coherent, eyes rolling as his body jerks beneath me. “I—Silas—please—please?—”
But I’m too far gone to respond in English.
“Así, mi amor. Tan bueno para mí. Tan increíblemente perfecto.”
That’s right, my love. So good for me. So incredibly perfect.The fact that those words just left my mouth shouldshove me right out of the moment, but they don’t. Not even a tiny bit.
I lean in, catching his lips in a kiss that’s more teeth and breath than softness. He melts into it, greedy and eager, letting me devour him even as I pull my hand free—slow, careful, aching with restraint.
I reach over and grab a condom from the bedside table and roll it on before I slick myself with the same mess still coating my hand—his release—and line myself up, one hand braced beside his head, the other guiding. Every thought but being inside of him is gone.
His eyes fly open as the tip of me nudges against him, stretching him.
I pause, breath harsh against his cheek.
One last moment of warning.
One last chance to stop.
But Luke wraps his legs around my waist and pulls me closer, lips brushing mine as he whispers, “Do it. I want all of you.”
And I give it to him.
He takes me like he was made for this—like every bratty grin and teasing touch was just a prelude to the moment he lets me in.
The slide is slow, steady, a stretch that makes his breath catch and his back arch. He’s tight—so fucking tight—and I have to grit my teeth, pulse thudding at the base of my spine as I push forward inch by inch, until I’m fully seated inside him.
My forehead drops to his.
We’re both breathing hard, sharing the same ragged air.
“Jesus,” he whispers, almost reverent.
I drag my mouth down the line of his jaw and murmur, “No soy un santo, cariño.”I’m not a saint, darling.
His laugh is breathless, strangled, followed by a moan as I roll my hips once, slow and deep as if he might understand my words.
And then again.
He clutches at me like he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling—as if it’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Fuck, Silas… fuck, please?—”
I hush him with a kiss, slower this time, drawing his bottom lip between mine and savoring the sound he makes. My hand cradles the back of his neck, the other gripping his hip as I pull back and thrust again—deeper, rougher.
The way he whines wrecks me.
“You feel that?” I ask, voice low against his mouth. “You’re mine right now. All mine.”
He nods, desperate. “Yours—yes—yours, fuck—just don’t stop?—”
“Buena obediencia,” I growl. Good obedience.
I start to move in earnest, pace building, every thrust dragging a new sound from his mouth—moans, gasps, babbled praise, and pleas. His legs stay wrapped around me, pulling me deeper, chasing every stroke like he can’t bear the space between us.
There’s sweat between us now. Nails in my back. His body arching into every thrust, greedy for more.
I reach between us and wrap my fingers around him again, stroking in time with each roll of my hips. His back bows off the bed, a full-body tremble running through him.
