‘You look so fucking hot like this,’ he murmurs, glancing up at me with a look of disbelief, his face flushed, his eyes gleaming with greed, before his tongue sweeps against my clit, groaning with gratification like he’s been starved of this and is making up for lost time.
‘Fuck,’ I say breathlessly, the vibrations of his groan bringing me right to the edge as I grind into the rhythm of his tongue and hand. ‘I’m coming.Mateo!’
My muscles clench round his fingers and my body spasms as the pleasure unfurls in relentless, pulsing waves, his name reverberating around the buildings around us. My legs trembling as I cling onto the balcony rail, he leaves several kisses on the inside of my thighs, before standing up and lifting me into his arms, carrying me inside in a post-orgasm daze, with my arms looped around his neck, his shirt draped on me still.
‘That was… oh myGod,’ is all I can manage to say while he eases me down on the bed.
Moving to lie alongside me, he trails his fingers up and down my stomach, from my bellybutton to just underneath my breasts, watching me attentively as I catch my breath.
‘That was the sexiest moment of my life,’ he says quietly, pressing his lips to my temple.
I’ve never had this before. It’s never been like this with anyone before. Mateo acts as though getting me off is more fulfilling for him than seeking his own satisfaction. He makes me feel safe and sexy and confident. I’ve never feltso admired, so wanted. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me – in those moments, he makes me feel like there’s nothing else that matters. And that turns me on big time.
I sit up and move to straddle him, the swift change in position taking him by surprise, but he doesn’t fight it. He grabs my hips, grunting as he adjusts me onto his hardened erection straining at his boxers. Sliding my hand beneath the waistband, I lift myself off him to wrap one hand around his length and use the other to tug his boxers down. He groans as I release his cock and stroke it, a throbbing ache already building again between my legs.
‘Fuck yes,’ he grits out, his eyes fluttering closed.
‘I need you now,’ I breathe, watching his Adam’s apple work, his cock pulsing in my hand and sending flutters through my stomach.
Determined to remain the lead on this one, I do the honours of finding a condom in the bedside drawer, before handing it to him to roll on while I shrug his shirt off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Moving back to straddle him, he positions his cock at my entrance and I lower myself down onto him, exhaling with a mixture of pleasure and relief to have him inside me again, to feel this full as I slide down to the hilt. His fingers dig into the skin at my hips as he guides me into a rhythm, his groans making me wetter and more ravenous for him.
‘Ash,fuck,’ he says in a throaty voice as I grind harder and faster against him, challenging his slower pace and taking command.
He moves to sit up, leaning back on one hand, his fingers grabbing a fistful of the sheet, and holding me in place with the other. My hands press on his shoulders, using him tocontrol my movement as I rock against him, urged on and on by every ragged exhale, every moan, every gasp that I prise from his lips, driven wild by the feeling of his length throbbing and pulsing inside me.
‘Oh my God,’ I cry, muscles clenching around him as I realise that this movement at this angle is hitting my spot without any help from his hand.
‘Ash, baby, I’m coming,’ he grits out.
As I feel him surge deep inside me, my own orgasm hits and I ride it out on him, capturing each other’s moans with our mouths, bodies shaking and shuddering together.
Panting and sweating, he brushes my hair from my face and kisses me. I think it’s a quick kiss at first, but he comes for more, his fingers threading through my hair as he kisses me tenderly and slowly, savouring it. Meaning it. It’s a kiss that sends a shiver down my spine.
I wonder if he knows what he’s done to me.
I wonder if he has any idea how easily he could break me.
*
‘You know, your bathroom is as big as my hotel room,’ I inform him after a shower, emerging from the bathroom in one of the white fluffy towel robes that was hanging on the back of the door and I’ve helped myself to the slippers, too.
I stop in surprise when I see the breakfast spread laid out on the table by the balcony doors: coffee, freshly-squeezed orange juice, a huge selection of steaming, buttery-looking pastries, colourful fruit platters and several plates of cooked food.
‘I thought you might be hungry,’ he says, brightening at my appearance and coming over fully dressed to give me a kisson the lips, his hands resting on my hips. ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I ordered a few different things from the menu.’
‘Mateo, you ordered the whole menu,’ I laugh before reaching up to the back of his neck and hauling his mouth to mine again. ‘Thank you,’ I say against his lips, kissing him.
With a gentle kiss on my forehead, he draws back to move to the table and pull out a chair for me, gesturing for me to sit down before taking the other seat and pouring us coffees.
‘Flying private jet, sleeping in a bed of custom-made linens, showering in a bathroom made of marble, eating a breakfast fit for a king,’ I list breezily, picking up the delicate cup from its saucer. ‘Not too shabby being a professional polo player.’
He smirks. ‘It’s not always like this.’
‘I think you can relax, Mateo. You’ve been playing so brilliantly, every team is going to be begging you to join them next season.’
‘I didn’t play well yesterday. I let my emotions get the better of me,’ he says, troubled.
I feel a stab of guilt. ‘I’m so sorry you lost.’
