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I bucked against him, whining. “Take me.”
Omar nuzzled into my neck. “I am,” he said, hooking his arm under my knee to spread me farther for him. His body slapped against mine, and I held him tight as I spiraled closer and closer to my orgasm. “Just let it happen,conejita. We don’t need to rush.”
Omar flipped us so that I sat astride him: I yelped at the change of position and how he stretched me. I stared down at him, shell-shocked, for a moment, and then my brain and body seemed to come back online at the same time. “Make us feel good,conejita.” His hands found my hips, and he guided my movement as I ground down on him.
With his help, I found that steady, if somewhat slow, rhythm that he’d begun. It was even headier from this angle, and I whimpered as he helped me to bounce in his lap. The tension was building again in the pit of my stomach, in the burn of my thighs, but every time I tried to speed up, Omar would tighten his grip and slow me down again.
“Why?” I whined, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
Omar smiled up at me, and for once, he wasn’t trying to tease. “Just enjoy it,” he said, holding me steady and forcing me to keep to this slower pace. “Enjoy me.”
God, but I love him. I leaned forward, kissing him, as I started to rock once more. His hands were everywhere at once, feather light, and I trembled under his touch. “I’m so close.” My head fell back as I rode him, losing myself to the pleasure that was spreading throughout my body.
Omar’s thumb found my clit, and I cried out as he circled it. “Come,conejita,” he murmured. “I want to see the passion on your face and feel your muscles squeeze my cock.”
It was his words more than his touch that sent me over the edge. I collapsed against his chest even as Omar bucked up against me, seeking his own release. This time, I kept my eyes on his face when he came: his brows furrowed, and his mouth dropped open into a silent groan.
I dropped kisses on his chest and collarbones, anywhere that I could reach without moving too far. “So good,” I mumbled against his chest. “You always make me feel so good.”
I felt more than heard Omar when he rumbled with contentment. “Same,conejita,” he said, sounding like he was a moment from sleep all over again.
“Same?” I echoed, smacking his chest lightly. “How romantic.”
He tipped my head back to look at him. “That felt pretty romantic to me,” he said, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.
“It was,” I said. I propped my chin on his chest so that I could look at him. “I never took you for the…slow sex type.”
Omar’s expression didn’t change, but he was suddenly much more somber than he had been only moments before. “Until you, I wasn’t,” he said. “I’ve never done…any of this before. I had women that I saw casually, but never anyone that it would pain me to lose.” His thumb brushed the apple of my cheek. “No one like you.”
I turned my head and nipped at that finger. “Well, you don’t have to worry about losing me,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t make me.”
Omar’s expression was fond and proud. “Good. Stay with me.”
“Always.”
CHAPTER37
Felix
The sound of weeping women would never fail to annoy me. Especially now over thispendejo. Jesus was a moron, thinking that he could take on Omar Castillo on his ownafterthe man disfigured him. When the Castillos shipped Jesus’s body back, the Rojas family had erupted into tears and promises of retribution. It was like none of them had imagined that this would be the result of sending him to that damned island in the first place.
“They’ll pay for this,” Luis told his wife, rubbing her back. “They’ll pay for Lyse, and they’ll pay for Jesus. They’ll pay for everyone that they’ve taken from us.”
He’s delusional, I thought and glanced at my watch. I showed up to this farce of a funeral and acted the part of the devoted, grieving former fiancé, but my patience was running thin.
“Apá, now’s not the time,” Matteo said. His voice was flat and tight, and for the first time, he didn’t remind me of a little boy. There was a hardness to his face that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was time to start molding him to take over for his father.
“Excuse me,mijo?”
Matteo looked at his father. “This kind of talk can wait untilafterthe funeral, Apá,” he said, “when we aren’t around all the women.”
The older man’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his son. “Are you telling me what to do, Matteo?”
“Cariño, please.”
Luis practically shoved his wife away; Matteo caught his mother before her stumble could turn into a true fall. “Go sit with Tía Claudia,” he told her.
His mother toddled away, and I watched father and son go toe to toe.Definitely interesting, I thought. “You have something to say,mijo, so say it,” Luis snapped.
