He kissed his way down her body, leaving no spot untouched. Lingering at her breasts, he sucked one hardened bud in his mouth, and then the other. Continuing his descent, he trailed his tongue from her navel to the inside of her thighs. He closed his mouth over her sex, and she spread her legs wider, welcoming his touch. He rewarded her by pressing one finger into her body, then another.
She gripped his hair. Pin-pricks of pain tugged at his scalp—and he loved it. Loved the rise and fall of her hips under his tongue, how easily she unraveled for him. Responsive and perfect. He worshiped her at a torturously slow pace. Steady circles timed with the slide of his fingers inside her. He kept her on the cusp of climax—until her spine arched and she cried out, “Matthew, please.”
And he relented, driving her hard over that peak.
She covered her mouth to stifle her cries, and he eased her hand away from her face.
“No one’s here,” he whispered. “Don’t hold yourself back. I want to hear you.”
He always loved hearing her talk. He loved it more when English and Spanish merged, pitched with desire in her voice. Using both languages, she told him how she felt powerless under him, loved him—needed him—and begged formore,please, Matthew, more.So he gave her one more. And then another—guided by every moan, breath, and sob he wrenched from her—until he lost count and she couldn’t speak.
He pressed two fingers deep into her body, stretching her, hoping it would be enough because he couldn’t wait any longer.
“Are you ready?” he asked, knowingdamnwell she was, but needing to hear it.
“Yes.”
“Get on top of me.”
Her eyes widened. “How?”
“Sit in my lap, and face me.” He sat up against the headboard and eased her to straddle him. “Ride me.”
She bit her bottom lip, and he took it into his mouth, soothing her with his tongue.
“You control the pace this way.” He aligned himself with the entrance to her body. “When you’re ready, ease yourself down—gently. I’ll help you.”
With his hands on her hips, he guided her down. He breathed through his teeth as hot,tightpressure closed over him. Tighter than anything he had ever experienced. Maybe Jasmine was right—maybe he wouldn’t fit. But hewas.They fit marvelously together. Sparks formed behind his eyelids. Pleasure radiated through every nerve.Straining with the effort not to driveintoher, he remained taut as she took him into her body—inch by gloriousinch. He leaned back on the headboard, closed his eyes…
And she stopped.
He groaned and glared at her.
She smirked.
“Watchme,” she said. “You need to tell me if I’m doing this right.”
“Youare,” he said through gritted teeth. “Go slow.”
But she didn’t. She rolled her hips, and with one forceful movement—she took him to the hilt. He choked on his inhale. She feltheavenly. She gasped and dug her nails into his shoulders, closing her eyes.
“Does it hurt?” He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her clenched jaw. “Talk to me, love.”
“It feels… strange.” Experimentally, she rolled her hips. “But good.” She tipped her head back and gasped. “Esto es... qué rico.”
She rocked over him, finding a rhythm—dancing with him. He laced his fingers through her hair and licked a line up her throat. “Te quiero, mi amor.”
A helpless sound escaped her, and she came down hard,lifted, and did itagain. It was his turn to cry out helplessly, and he thrust deep into her. She moaned his name. The heat of her breath sent shivers down his spine, and dearlord—he wouldn’t last. He rubbed his fingertip between them, and she tightened around him. She was close. A little more, and he would send her over the edge.
He rolled them over, hooked her leg high on his side and drove into her. Three thrusts in just the right spot, and she cried out, quivering around him. His release slammed into him, and he withdrew with hardly a second to spare, spilling onto the bedcovers with blinding bliss. With every muscle sore and shaking, he lay down on his side and pulled her close.
She trembled, as exhausted from their lovemaking as he was. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and softly kissed her throat—right over her hammering pulse. For a long moment, he held her in silence, broken only by the sound of their harsh breathing. Eventually, her tremors subsided, her breathing evened, and she relaxed in his arms.
Early morning light filtered into the room, and Matthew absentmindedly wondered what time it was. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to rise and get something to clean them up, but he was so bloody tired, and she lay directly on his right arm. Numbness tingled at his fingertips, but he ignored it.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Sore. Exhausted.” She gave a weak laugh. “But also relieved.” She turned to face him and kissed him sweetly. “I don’t regret it—I’mproudto call you mine.”
