Page 207 of LA King

“Alex!”

“I know, princesa.” He adds a second finger and gently eases me open, twisting and stretching me until the burning gives way to dull, aching pleasure.

“You’re doing so well for me. Are you ready for my cock now?”

My fingers twist in the sheets, toes curling. But I want more. “Y-yes.”

He eases his fingers out of me, and then he’s gripping my hips as he presses his crown at my opening. He pushes the tip inside, and I bite down on my lip to stop from crying out.

It burns more intensely than before, but he’s so patient, remaining still until I adapt to his size. I take deep breaths, letting my body adjust to the new sensation until the dull, aching pleasure gives way to a delicious feeling of fullness. Alejandro edges inside me farther, slowly stretching me until he’s almost all the way in.

His breathing is ragged and his fingers dig into my hips like he’s desperately trying to maintain his control. The low growling sounds he’s making vibrate through my body.

“Alex.” I say his name on a keening moan. “Please?”

“You like that?”

“Yeah,” I pant.

He moves slowly in and out of me. The sensation is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and just when I feel like I’m on the edge of losing control, he slips his hand between us and slides a thick finger into my pussy. I whimper. Being so full of him is exquisite and overwhelming.

“That’s it, Alana, squeeze me.”

I clench my muscles around him, and he fucks my ass while he finger-fucks my pussy to the same relentless rhythm.

My orgasm builds, cresting higher and faster, until it feels like it’s going to burst through me like a river breaching its banks. The pleasure is so intense I can’t form a coherent thought. I push back against him so I can take more, and he responds by giving me everything he has.

“Alex,” I whine. “I love you.”

I didn’t mean to say that, but in the heat of the moment, the words tumbled unbidden from my mouth. I don’t have time to regret them because my climax tears through my body with the force of a bomb.

“Fuck, Alana,” he groans, thrusting his hips one more time before his own orgasm hits.

When he pulls out of me, we both collapse, and he pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. “That was fucking incredible.”

“It was.” I have to agree.

“You’re fucking incredible.” He drops another kiss on my head, banding his arms tighter around me.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Montoya.”

We lie together for a few moments, catching our breath, and neither of us mention what I said. Eventually, he taps me on the ass. “Let’s go get ourselves cleaned up, shall we?”

Half an hour later, Alejandro and I are back in bed, fresh from a long shower, during which he tenderly washed every part of my body, making me feel cherished and adored.

I rest my head on his chest, listening to the soothing, steady sound of his heartbeat.

“Are we going to talk about what you said to me before, or are we going to pretend it never happened?” he asks.

Crap, I knew that was going to rear its ugly head. “What’d I say?”

He hums, his lips resting on the top of my head. “You don’t remember telling me that you loved me when my cock was buried in your ass?”

“Oh, that.” My cheeks flush with heat. I’m such an idiot.

He places his index finger under my chin and tips my head back so he can look into my eyes. “Did you mean it, or was it the orgasm talking?”

“Do you want the truth?”