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“I said that I need to touch you, your face, your skin. Your heart.”
Something both shocked and joyous burst inside her. She gasped, and Alejandro swallowed the sound with another drugging kiss.
With every brush of his lips, every glide of his hot palm, every male moan poured into her mouth he ripped past her barriers until she opened completely to him—parting her lips wider to accept more of his possession, clutching one hard shoulder with her free hand to keep him near, spreading her thighs to invite him inside. She sighed when his narrow hips fit right into the curve of her body as if he’d been made to fill her.
“Yes.” She arched under him, unable to hold anything back.
He nestled his free hand under the curve in her back, keeping her breasts and the damp heat of her skin right against him.
“Yo le tocaré toda la noche. Cada parte de tú sabrás el se siente de mí.”
“Ali…please.”
The way he touched her, as if he had not another thought in his head except pleasing her… She burned inside her skin, yet she knew only he could save her. He would shatter her into a million pieces first, then remake her into a new woman. A warning bell went off in some distant part of her mind, but his fingers gripped her hips, fitting her directly against the hard column of his erection. He wound down her body and brushed soft lips against the side of her breast.
“I will touch you all night long,” he translated. “Every part of you will know the feel of me.”
She had no doubt Alejandro would keep that promise.
He suckled her nipples over and over, lavishing attention on her until they stood red, swollen, so sensitive that nothing more than his breath on her induced a shiver. All the while, his fingers free from the cuff whispered across her skin. Her back, her thighs, her buttocks. Even her knees, calves, and toes. Alejandro put that hand on every inch of available skin, finally drawing her leg up high on his hip so he could toy with the sensitive underside of her knee.
Gently, he rode her clit with his erection. Not pushing or grinding. Not bruising. Instead, a soft nudge of delicious pressure in a hypnotic rhythm, one that took her higher and higher.
The seed of pleasure under her clit sprouted and bloomed. Shanna panted, trying to resist the searing pleasure for just another moment. She dug the fingers not bound by the cuff into the hard flesh of his back, pressing down his body, far down, until she gripped his ass in her hand.
Moonlight spilled past the open blinds, swirling in on the evening breeze as he whispered, “La piel estas rosácea, mi amor. Eres maduro y listo, sí?”
“Tell me, Ali!” She moaned. “Please…”
“Your skin is rosy, my love. You are ripe and ready, yes?”
“Yes. Yes, now!”
He pressed against her again, nudging her clit with his cock. The cream of her arousal spread all over his flesh, and the next time he rocked against her, the bead of nerves he teased leaped at the slick pressure. Blood rushed south, pooled between her legs, gathering need, pleasure, and anticipation right where it impacted her most. She clawed, cried in his arms.
“Who is here, Shanna? Who is in this room?”
“Us. Just us.”
“Apenas tú y mí. Ninguna audiencia. Ninguna cámaras. Nosotros.” He breathed as he gathered the crooks of her knees into his arms. “Just you and me. No audience, no cameras. Us.”
The way it always should be. The thought ran through Shanna’s mind unchecked, unchallenged, unstoppable as Alejandro paused, probed, then on a long glide, he penetrated her.
His hard flesh filled her sex, sank deep, deeper, then deeper still. Making love face to face…totally different than being dominated by him for an audience. The slick rasp of his engorged shaft raked against her sensitive walls. A jolt of pleasure coiled, tightened, intensifying, growing faster than she could assimilate.
“So tight, my love,” he murmured as he drew back and brought their cuffed hands up to her breast. Her palm cupped her flesh as his thumb caressed her nipple. It was as if they were seeing to her pleasure together, and it drove Shanna mad with delirious need.
All the while, the slow steady pleasure of his thrusts made her into a wild woman. She writhed, lifted her hips, arched—anything to reach more of him, lure him deeper still into her.
Alejandro went willingly, every lingering slide of his erection inside her lifting her arousal higher. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Heat suffused her body. She could barely breathe. And she didn’t care.
For the first time in years—maybe in her life—she didn’t just feel; she was wholly alive, driven by something more than a statue of faux gold molded like dancers she wanted to someday sit on her mantle. She lived for now. She lived to feel the man growling words in a language she didn’t understand but adored as he strained to fulfill every promise of pleasure boiling in her body.
