“Shh.” He switches sides, bites down gently, then soothes with his tongue. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I need to do this before I leave.”
He stands and pulls his jersey over his head. His chest is bare and pale with a trail of dark hair disappearing into his pants. I reach for his belt and he lets me. My fingers fumble - I’m shaking - but then the buckle comes loose and I’m pulling his zipper down and pushing his pants and boxers off his hips.
I wrap my hand around him and he hisses. “Elida.”
“I’ve thought about this,” I say. “Every single day.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve thought about your hands on me. Your mouth. The way you feel inside me.” I squeeze slightly and he groans, drops his forehead to mine. “I’ve made myself come thinking about it.”
“Fuck.”
“Tell me you haven’t.”
“I have.” His voice is ragged.
I kiss him again.
He pushes me back onto the bench. He’s not gentle. My shoulders hit the lockers behind me and I don’t care. He pulls my leggings and underwear off in one rough yank and then he’s between my legs, spreading me open with his knees, looking down at where I’m wet and ready.
“So wet,” he says.
“That’s your fault.”
He gives me a wild grin. “Good.”
He leans down and licks me. Just once. I gasp and my hips buck and he does it again, slower this time, like he’s tasting something he’s been craving.
“I’ve missed your taste,” he says against me.
“Then don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. His tongue circles my clit, his fingers push inside me, curling exactly the way I like. I grab his hair and hold him there and I can hear myself making sounds I don’t recognize.
“I’m close,” I say.
He pulls back. “Not yet.”
“Mateo.”
He crawls up my body, lines himself up, and pushes inside me in one slow, thick stroke.
I forget how to breathe.
It’s a kind of perfect I haven’t felt since the last time. He stays there for a second, both of us frozen, his forehead pressed to mine.
“Oh, fuck,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he breathes.
Then he moves.
It’s rough from the first thrust. No warm-up, no gentleness. He fucks me hard and deep, the bench rocking beneath us, my back scraping against the lockers with every push. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him deeper and he groans my name.
“Harder,” I say.
