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I traveled one hand up her right thigh while she dug her nails into the hand I’d kept underneath her left knee. I held her wide open, grabbing at every inch of her so tight there were going to be bruises from my fingertips tomorrow.
“Another part of your plan?” Her breathing picked up when I cupped her pussy. Her stomach tightened underneath my arm. She clasped it, hanging on to me as if I would drift away.
“What do you think I’m doing, Dita?” I rasped against her neck, feeling her swallow when I hooked a finger around the black lace. I slid it to the side and swapped my middle finger into her wetness.
All that was holy, she felt fine.
I patted her clit. “You missed this?”
God knows I did. I’d spent more time with my hand around my cock thinking about my fingers in her tight cunt ever since I’d felt her from the inside.
Without giving her any amount of time to dismiss me, I pushed my entire finger into her and languidly retracted it again, looking after her swollen nub with my thumb.
“Oh, Dios Mío,” she moaned as her legs clamped mine.
I choked, losing control of my thoughts. “What I’d do for you to keep talking to me like that?”
Her bilingual tongue—while I was getting her off, for fuck’s sake—was a sign that there was no god. No mercy.
What had I gotten myself into?
I really needed to reflect my plan. It was barreling downhill so fast.
But I only pained myself more, rubbing her clit and reaping more sighs and curses.
This was far better than her anger. This—where she was prey under my merciful fingers and I made her squirm in her father’s native language. Who knew she’d give in to me this soon?
Maybe she was a glutton for torture. Like me.
My nose traced along her jaw while the back of her head dug into my shoulder. I exchanged her left knee for a fistful of her dark hair and angled her head to the side, sealing her lips with mine.
She opened up, pushing her tongue into my mouth all the while I kept playing with her pussy, and Jesus…
Dita fucking Dominguez.
She was my undoing. And all I had done so far was claim her with my hand.
I added another finger, gaining myself a rusty taste in my mouth.
“Did you just bite me?” I asked, stunned, with my lower lip still between her teeth. I reveled in the sting when she slowly loosened her teeth around my flesh.
“So-sorry,” she responded, licking it clean, which put my dick in a dangerously hard state.
“Don’t apologize.” I pumped in and out of her, water sloshing gently against our inner thighs. “You’re fucking perfect like that.”
Her hips met the ministrations of my hand. “This is—oh, Ares.”
Fuck.
Stop it, Dita. Stop saying my fucking name.
“Say it again,” I rumbled the demand. “My name. Say it.”
Glutton.
Torture.
My name became her mantra after another three pumps, and she tightened around my fingers while I kept her on the edge of an orgasm.
