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“I do know one thing...” His hand moves towards my thigh.
My breath catches in my throat when I feel his fingers brush against my leg. My skin is covered with goose bumps, my body responding to his touch.
I open my legs wider in an attempt to get his fingers closer to my pussy.
He lowers his hand to the edge of my panties. “You’re a gift.”
Every cell in my body celebrates his admission. Confirmation that I do mean something. That I am a contribution to his life. That he does need me.
“You’re a fucking gift, and I want you more than I've ever wanted you before.” His fingers slide under the fabric and find my swollen clit. I gasp, his touch sending a jolt through my body.
My whole body quivers in anticipation as he slides a finger inside of me. He pushes it deep inside, pumping it in and out in a rhythmic motion. My body knows what to do. It knows how to respond to his touch. It's been like this since the moment I met him.
“Thank you for accepting me.” He strokes my inner walls. “I love the way you surrender to me. It's intoxicating. I can never get enough of you.” He inhales the scent of my hair. “Never.”
I've come to realize that Armando and I may struggle for words as we are just learning how to communicate. But one thing is for certain.
Our bodies know how to speak.
More so than words.
I let out a soft moan as his finger slides in and out of my pussy, “More,” I whisper, my eyes never leaving his.
“More?” His lips curl into a smile.
“I want more than this. I want you inside of me. I need you,” I admit, my voice catching in my throat.
I've never been one who could easily express my sexual needs and desires. But when I'm around him, he brings out a side of me that I never knew existed.
A side that craves his touch.
“I know what you need, Flowers.” He rolls me to my back and pins my forearms by my sides.
“Yes,” I breathe, thrilled by his dominance.
“You need me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately.
“You need me to fuck you hard, baby girl?”
“Yes, please.”
“You're asking for it.” He reaches down to grab my panties and pulls them down my legs. He tosses them on the floor, then grabs my ankles and lifts my legs towards the headboard. I squirm in pleasure as he spreads my legs apart, exposing my pussy to his hungry gaze.
“You're so fucking wet for me,” he growls as he lowers his head, pressing his lips against my thigh, then moving towards my pussy. “So wet and ready for me, aren't you?”
He doesn't wait for an answer. His lips land on my clit, and he sucks it between his lips. His warm tongue flicks over my clit, torturing it in a most delicious way.
I squeeze my eyes shut, warmth spreading through my body as a bolt of electricity shoots up my spine. I gasp as he pushes his tongue deep inside of me, groaning as it slides against my swollen clit. His tongue pushes inside of me, and my pussy contracts, quivering against his mouth.
He pushes two fingers inside of me, and my pussy contracts around them. I'm so close. “Put it in me,” I breathe, struggling to find my voice.
“Put what in you?” His fingers plunge even deeper, driving me wild. He’s making me beg.
I oblige. “Your cock. I want it. I need it.”
“Nice and slow?” he asks.
“Yes,” I nod.
“Are you sure? Or do you want it rough and hard?” he teases.
“However you want. I just want you to fuck me.” My heart pounds in my chest. The blood sizzles through my veins.
I’ve never had an addictive personality. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. Nothing has ever taken hold of my senses.
Until Armando.
I’m completely addicted to him.
And I’m terrified he’s going to break my heart.
Chapter Five
Hannah
The sun spills through the thin curtains of my small apartment, casting a soft glow on the room.
I hear water running in the shower, and knowing Armando is still here calms me.
I get up and flit aimlessly around the bedroom, picking up strewn clothing without thinking. No, that’s not true. I’m trying not to think, but yesterday’s events are playing on loop in my mind. The sudden screech of tires, the sharp crack of gunfire, and Marco's pained eyes haunt me.
Someone wants Armando dead.
That thought terrifies me. I stare at the floor, searching for answers that aren't there.
As if on cue, the bathroom door creaks open, and Armando strides out, his damp hair slicked back from his face. He's dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, looking every bit the powerful and dangerous man he is. It's as if last night never happened, like he's untouchable. As always, his presence is both reassuring and intimidating.
