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Diego’s playing me, and I’m singing. His leg’s moved between mine, trapping me, keeping me open, and everything is made of nerve endings that spark.
His mouth traces up my shoulder, my throat, to my ear, where he sucks on my lobe sending a new series of livewires into life inside. I’m lost, being pulled apart, and I’m climbing toward that sweet release. He pushes me up, and I flower open, wave after wave of heat and pleasure filling me. He doesn’t stop, his wicked laugh in my ear as I try and pull away.
“It’s too much.”
“Gotta fuckin’ pay up, Nadie.”
Now he ups the tempo, pushing in a second finger, strumming my clit harder, and everything wants to curl up and hide. It’s too much, and I’m too exposed, I’m . . . oh, God. A switch is flipped, and I gasp.
Suddenly, I no longer want to escape, I want more, I need it. I push against him, hips moving, trying to tilt to get that perfect beat, and I grab at him.
But the bastard doesn’t slow or speed up. He doesn’t change the pressure. Diego doesn’t fucking move. He’s playing. Torturing and . . . shit. If I get out, I’m killing . . . I . . . I can’t think straight. The pleasure is a thrum so deep and loud in me, and it starts to throb. It’s big, a tingle that spreads everywhere, and from nowhere at all, another crest rushes at me. This is higher than Everest, more thrilling, and worth the climb. It takes me over, rolling through me, through my bones and veins and flesh. The deep ecstasy is so big, so there, it’s almost frightening.
It takes me from my toes and shoots everywhere. “Oh, God. Diego!”
I shake and shudder with the force of the orgasm. My mind shuts down to lower-level functions and I sink into the sheer sweetness of it.
When I come back to me, he kisses me softly, and gets up. “I’m grabbing a shower, you can get one here or at home.”
“But—”
He doesn’t wait for me to finish my sentence, or even really begin it. Instead, he’s gone from the room, a naked God with a hard-on. It should be ridiculous, seeing him like that. But it’s not.
It’s stone-cold mouthwatering. He’s the hottest thing I’ve seen. The network of tattoos that cover his chest. arms, and back. The ones down one leg. The scars, old and new. A map to a life I know nothing about except the little he’s told me.
I know he won’t give up his life or anything for me, not even if I asked, which I wouldn’t.
It breaks my heart. Not that he wouldn’t give up anything, but the why. He wouldn’t because he doesn’t want me enough. He doesn’t want to try and work things out or ask me to come with him.
I push a hand over my hair. I don’t want him to leave his life. But I can’t leave. Not years ago, not now. I’ve got Jay. I always had Jay. I could see it in my brother and his wife, the kind of parents they would be. I couldn’t stand the thought of this young kid being shunted around, left in hotel rooms, or to a rotation of nannies.
Worse, to my father, who I loved almost more than anything. Diego, not withstanding, but he was also a weak man who relied on cut corners and dodgy deals until he roped Diego in, and Diego got my father in trouble.
Something I still have problems with, no matter the note Diego sent me.
The fortune—what was left was saved, and I told my father to do what he wanted but to give me the inheritance promised now. Sign it over in my name.
He did because it wasn’t much.
I took that and set up a long-term account for Jay, one his parents don’t know about, one they can’t touch. I don’t think they would. They’re selfish not poor or greedy, but Jay has a future now. Well, he will as long as I keep him alive long enough to reach that point.
But I don’t mean enough to have Diego willing to make a grand gesture.
“You’re so fucked up, Nadia.” I am. I’m aware how wrong this thought process is.
So, I get up, go to the bathroom, open the door to the shower, and step inside.
“Longstocking.”
“Shut the fuck up, Diego. I want this.”
I go down on my knees, take his cock, and kiss and suck it all over, laving the underside of the head with my tongue. He hisses, “Fuck.”
Diego’s hands tangle in my wet hair. I suck him into my mouth, using my fingers to play with and tease his balls as I go deep. My mouth stretching to fit him in until he’s at the back of my throat.
I work him, bobbing up and down. Sliding my tongue over the head as I almost pull off, and then down again. Over and over, until he groans and starts to swear.
I like this, him filling me. When his hands tighten and he pulls me against him to fuck my mouth deep, I revel in the feeling, in the need to pull away and the urge to take him as deep as I can.
