His body went hard, and he could feel his old self sliding back into place. The man he’d been before he’d known her. The one he hid from her while they’d been living with his father. The one he’d returned to on the Navy’s special project.
The one she’d only ever seen glimpses of while in his bed.
“You want to see control?”
She inhaled sharply.
Before she could exhale, he had her on her back, straddling her hips, his thighs squeezing her legs together, her wrists clenched together in one hand above her head, his other hand trailing to the vee and the top button of her flannel top.
“I’ll show you control.”
The hand at the neckline of the shirt opened and lay in the space between her breasts. He pushed it along the skin, up to her throat, and before he closed his fingers around it, he rotated his hand so it curled around the nape of her neck instead.
“Leave your hands above your head,” he growled.
She nodded once.
The hand holding hers let go, only to reestablish contact at her waist. Raising his hips an inch, he supported her neck before flipping her onto her stomach, then dropping himself back down so his weight sat on her ass. He made sure her head was turned to the side on the pillow so she could breathe.
“Unclench your hands and lay them flat beside your head.”
Her breaths were deep and loud, but she wasn’t afraid. This was her aroused. He could feel her hips trying to twitch beneath him, but he’d positioned himself perfectly so she couldn’t move an inch.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” he said.
Her eyes closed, and she exhaled shakily. Finally, her fists unclenched and lay flat beside her head.
Laying his chest to her back, his hands ran across her shoulders, down her biceps, and up her forearms. When they reached her hands, he stopped, laying them directly on top of hers, then ground his cock into her ass until it was nestled between her cheeks, along with the material from her pajama pants. Only then did he drag his fingers back the way they came.
Over and over, he repeated the pattern, the touch never straying, the pressure never changing, the speed never wavering. The onlything that changed was that each time he placed his hands atop hers and pushed his hips into hers, forcing the material to drag across her back entrance, he whispered to her in Spanish something he loved about her.
“I love how your eyes become almost black, a thin ring of brown around the pupil when you want me.”
“I love how your long, midnight hair flows across my pillow.”
“I love how it winds around my fist when I fuck your mouth.”
“I love the silky heat of your mouth as you suck me dry.”
“I love how your mouth pouts so pretty when I edge you for hours.”
“I love how dark and dangerous you taste as I fuck your pussy with my tongue.”
“I love your tight, slick walls when I slide my cock deep inside your cunt.”
“I love the moan you let loose when I push my hard cock into your ass.”
“I love how you inhale so deep just before you come.”
“I love the nonsense you call out when you shatter in my arms.”
“I love letting loose inside you, filling you with my cum.”
With his final piece of praise, he stilled, all his weight still pushing between her cheeks, only this time the tip was pressing hard against her hole, as if it could push through the material and enter her right that second.
Slowly, he sat up, letting his fingers trail down her form, lying limply on the mattress. “Stay absolutely still. No matter what, do not move.”
It may have been the words of a threat, but both knew it was more a dark promise of reward if she complied.
