Page 57 of No Greater Oblivion

It's humiliating. Exhilarating. The rush of being found out clashes with the fear of being seen in such a vulnerable position.

He keeps one strong arm wrapped around my waist as he grips my hair, winding the length of it around his left hand, and yanks my head back. “Do you get off on making my life difficult?”

I practically choke out my response when he pushes into me so deeply, I swear to God he reaches my womb. “It’s good foreplay.”

He groans and mutters something unintelligible in Spanish against my ear. The sounds he makes when he’s inside of me are just filthy. “My God…you feel fucking incredible.”

Neither of us lasts very long after that. He pistons into me, never once letting up, each hard, powerful thrust of his hips more painful than pleasurable but I take every inch he gives me without complaint because I’d rather than die than stop.

Orgasm rips through us both, almost simultaneously. It’s so intense we both lose our balance and the table is there to catch us. I grip the edge as he eases out of me and I can feel the hot stream of his release trickle down my thigh.

After a moment, I whisper, “Alex?”

He kisses the back of my neck in acknowledgment.

“I love you. I just wanted you to know that.”

He sighs and presses a kiss against my temple. “Yo también, mi amor. Yo también te amo.”

Something occurs to me.

“Alex?” I say. “Just how well did the sex work on you?”

“Well enough for a few diamonds if you were smart.”

I break out into a smile and turn to face him. “How about a car?”

“You’re joking right?”

I’m so giddy I could do a heel kick. “It’s perfect.”

“You had the option of any luxury vehicle in existence and you chose this?” Alejandro can’t contain his own distaste. “What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t care. She’s beautiful and I love her.”

“Not a single person in the whole region drives a Subaru—it practically screams foreigner.”

I spin on the balls of my feet to face him. “Would you stop being so judgy and just give the man your credit card?”

He gives me a pinched look as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He gives the sale’s clerk his ID and credit card and the man steps away to scan them at his desk. “Are you sure you don’t want a different car? There’s a Mercedes dealership down the road.”

“No.”

“How about a Dacia Sandero? It’s very popular here and they have styles you’d like.”

I plant my hands on my hips. “What’s wrong with the car I chose?”

“Want me to give a list?” His hazel gaze sweeps over the vehicle. “It’s massive, bulky, and going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

“It’ll make it easier for you to find me,” I counter smugly.

“It looks like something a forty-year-old soccer mom from Ohio has parked in her driveway.”

“I happen to think forty-year-old soccer moms from Ohio are lovely.”

“Do you even know how to drive?”

“I have a license.”