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“You’re a terrible liar, anjo.” He laughed and dropped one hand, moving it straight between my thighs where there was no barrier to stop his skilled fingers from exploring my slit.
“Stop.” I reached down to remove his hand as my lower stomach clenched.
He easily ensnared my wrist, capturing the other one at the same time and banding them together.
“I don’t like the way you just used that word. In fact, stop and no don’t exist in your vocabulary unless you’re begging me not to stop fucking you.”
Something akin to a growl erupted from my throat as I struggled, causing my slutty dress to lift over my hips.
He wedged his leg between my thighs to make a gap, and then dropped to his knees, keeping firm hold of my wrists.
With his free hand, he gently rubbed the bruises he’d left the night before, and then, without prelude, two fingers stretched open the lips of my pussy, exposing my ugly truth.
“I could go swimming between your thighs right now.” He sucked his teeth, shaking his head.
“Mateo!” My lips parted in disbelief when he leaned in and deeply inhaled.
“Mmm, you still smell of our last fuck.”
He followed his statement by pushing two digits inside me, stretching what was still sore from the vigorous night before.
The burn felt better than it should have. A mixture of a groan and a whimper escaped from my mouth.
“If I did not care about you, you’d already be dead.” He removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, licking me from front to back and back to front.
Our eyes locked, and my thoughts centered on him, my arousal increasing. I watched my juices drip from his chin and travel over his tastebuds.
My muscles slowly began to lose their tension as he continued to eat me. I wantonly spread my legs further, giving him better access.
“
Mateo,” I moaned, rising up on my tiptoes as he worked his tongue deeper inside me, groaning appreciatively in the back of his throat.
“Say it again,” he commanded.
The pad of his thumb pressed down on my clit, swaying back and forth, heightening my rapidly building pleasure.
“Mateo,” I moaned louder, curling my nails into my palms.
“If I did not care about you, I wouldn’t be staking my claim on you by giving you my last name. Every filho da puta in Vice City will know you belong to me.”
I shook my head and opened my mouth to speak, gasping when he shoved his fingers back inside me, adding a third.
“This tight little pussy is mine,” he affirmed, pumping faster, harder.
He turned his head, the stubble on his face rubbing against my thigh. His lips grazed the darker colored skin as he opened his mouth and bit down.
I yelped in equal parts shock and pain that quickly turned to pleasure when he soothed the savage sting with his tongue, never once stopping his fingers from plunging in and out of my pussy.
I broke free of him just in time to grab hold of his muscled shoulders when he shot back to his feet.
I tried to catch my breath, swallowing repeatedly. I licked my juices off his face as if he were my favorite flavor of lollipop.
He worked his cock out of his slacks and the confines of his briefs, guiding it inside me without further pretense.
His rough intrusion had me screaming his name and clawing at him. I held onto his shoulders to keep myself grounded as he hooked one leg over his hip. Our height difference coupled with my lingering soreness made the position that much more intense.
Our mouths collided in a mass of moans, ragged breaths, and sweet, pain filled bites.
