My eyes lift slowly to his. His pink tongue touches his top teeth.
Diablo…
Shoving on his chest, I push him abruptly onto his back, crawling on top of him. “You said… I’m in charge.” My voice shakes and my vision blurs, but I’m just trying to focus.
Breathe.
He nods fast, gazing up at me, looking fucking drunk. “Yes, baby. I promise, you are…Whatever you want.”
I… want… to…
Kill… you…
Knelt between his parted legs, I hover above him. Practically zipped, our bodies rock together ever so slightly, his arms resting at his sides. Fists clenched because I know he wants to touch, but he won’t. Not unless I say so, and it’s mesmerizing.
Being in control of such a dangerous man.
Pushing his shirt open, I press my palms flat on the firm planes of his pectorals, fleshsowarm and soft. And nowmyhair is hanging around my face, framing it as my chest heaves and I allow my touch to skim… lower. Tracing the curves of his abdominals, down to the waist of his tailored pants.
“You are so damn sweet,” he purrs. Lidded, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Sounbearablysexy…Oh, beautiful, you’re driving me insane.”
“Yea?” I choke, curiously touching his belt buckle.
He nods again. “Yea. I’m dying for more, baby…”
Yes… good… die…
“You’rekillingme, precious thing…”
I feel like I could pass out, sweating and thrumming and rocking my hips. Head swirling with deep, growly pleas and taunting words. Plump muscles, and pink lips, and knives, and blood…
Big… hard…
Fuck, muy grandisimo.
“You wanna touch, don’t you?” My fingers drift… tracing the shape of him through his pants.
It jerks and throbs beneath my touch.
“Uhhyes. Yes yes, perfect thing. I want you to let me…”
The air around us is thick and hazy as I attempt to wade through the fog of this moment, saturated with sexual appetite, and focus on what I need.
Distraction…
I swallow an uneasy gulp. “You can touch…” I lift one of his hands in mine, placing it on my chest. “Here.”
Humming, he squirms beneath me. He’s so tall, long-limbed and spread out, writhing in delectable agonyfor me. I can’t believe this is happening… I can’t even fathom or understand this, but I’m blazing an inferno of fearless desire.
El Diablo… I have him.
I’ve captured him, finally.
His fingers grip, held in place by my own, squeezing tenderly. Not hard, still not aggressive or rough. Just a tender caress of my chest that has my nipple peaked and aching inside my clothes.
In an effort to move this along, I think, I release him and whip my shirt over my head. His hooded gaze widens a bit, like he didn’t expect that. It fills me with even more drive as I bring his hand back to my chest.
“Touch,” I instruct and he does, long fingers treasuring the curve of my pectoral.
