Efren
Malditas Ganas.
This woman. She’s undone me in ways I’ve never imagined. For years, I envisioned what it would be like to have her, and now that I do, I want nothing more than to secure her place next to me forever. Her face is half-buried in the pillow, facing away from me, her naked body tangled in the sheets. The sun isn’t the only thing rising. My dick is rock hard and aching for this woman again. Lowering the sheet, I take in the curve of her back and the small cursive writing that runs vertical down her spine.
Hija de la luna
Another small line tattoo of two small fish is above her elbow. I trace each of them with steady fingers, as if her skin were made of glass. The morning light creeps through the blinds, cutting across the sheets in narrow stripes. The marks on my neck throb in rhythm with my pulse, a quiet reminder of how far she’s come and how far I’d let her go.
Last night was everything I’ve wanted. Each time she’s closer and closer to demanding what she wants in bed, and I’m prepared to fulfill every one of her commands. She could buy me a collar today, and I’d put it on and bark at her feet.
It was more than sex, though. This woman owned my heart, and when someone owns all those parts of you, it’s electrifying. I’ll let her use me however she wants for lifetimes on end if that’s what she needs to find comfort in her rage. Slowly, I press my lips to her shoulder and watch her body soften.
“Kitten,” I murmur, my voice rough from sleep. “We need to get back.”
She stirs, lashes fluttering before she opens her eyes.
“No quiero.” She groans.
“Àndale, mija,” I whisper into her ear.
She tenses briefly, and I’m tempted to see if her body has woken with the same need as mine. I slide my hand down the sheet and cup her ass before sliding my fingers between her folds.
“Estàs cachonda?”
The smile she gives me over her shoulder is sinister. With little force, she rolls over and climbs on top of me. Her playfulness dies when she spots the marks she’s left on my chest.
“Oh my god, Efren. Did I do that?” She gasps.
I gasp for dramatic effect and look down. “Picasso! I like it,” I mock.
She rolls her eyes and moves to leave, but I hold her there.
“I loved every minute of last night. None of this surprised me. I wanted you to use me.”
“You wanted me to manhandle you?” she says, quirking a brow.
“I want you to do whatever feels best for you. I get off on your pleasure.”
“What if I decide I want you to manhandle me?” she asks.
I’m quick to move her, my strength and speed throwing her off guard as I flip her over and set her on all fours. Sheyelps when I pull her hair back and grind the top of my pelvis into her ass.
“Then we switch, Kitten. And I pound into this tight ass.”
Alma tenses, and I rub my hand over her ass then smack it lightly. She jolts forward, and I release her, then pull her back into me just before she falls.
“What if I want to stick my fingers up your ass?” she challenges.
“Then why not. I’m comfortable with my sexuality,” I reply.
“Which is?”
“I’m an A-l-m-a-sexual.” I smirk.
“You’re a-nnoying, is what you are.”
“I’m not one for labels like dominate or submissive, but I find pleasure in both roles and expect that in time you will too.” My tone is more serious than playful.
