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His movements are quick, his cock hard and big. The pressure on my neck is just right.
No longer a punishment but a testament to the feelings inside of me. And when I manage to peel my eyes open, when I catch the way he’s looking at me with his mouth slightly open, the shock of what I see there has my lungs seizing.
He’s looking at me like he loves me.
Like the sun rises and falls on my ass.
I lift my hips in time to meet his rapid-fire thrusts, loving the way he grunts. He hits deeply, and I cry out, reaching between us to finger my clit to chase the second orgasm. Ricardo leans over me, breathless and absolutely perfect, filling me to the brink, his breathing rough.
Yes, yes, yes.
My muscles clamp around him when I manage to find my release. His movements grow jerky, his grip on my neck loosening when he slides his hands up to cup my face. He balances on the other hand, panting. One more thrust. Two, three. All of them rough and stuttering before he stills and his cum fills my channel.
Neither one of us breathes as he thrusts through his orgasm, but instead of collapsing on top of me, he shifts to kiss me. The kindness of the gesture has tears long suppressed pricking the corner of my eyes.
“I would do anything for you,” I whisper again. Kissing him to punctuate the statement.
Ricardo shakes his head. “Don’t. Don’t do anything for me because I do not deserve it. Or you.”
“Is that what you think?” My heart races, and the slightest movement has him sliding free of me, his seed slipping along my legs and onto the seat beneath me. “You think you don’t deserve me?”
“I know it.” He suppresses a laugh, and when he looks at me, his face is screwed into an expression of resigned dignity. “It will be a cold day in hell before I become the kind of man you deserve, Isabella.”
“How about you let me worry about what I deserve. Because from where I’m sitting, I’ve just gotten everything I want because it’s you. It’s you, Ricardo, and no one else even comes close to how I feel when I’m around you.” How do I put into words the strange and sometimes misguided—I’m sure of it—feeling of safety that pervades me when I’m around him?
The kind of soul-level safety that is impossible for me to find with anyone else.
Without thinking, I grab the front of his shirt and pull him toward me until he lowers his face to mine. The kiss is soft, probing, hesitant, even as I wrap my legs around his waist to keep him with me. Ricardo balances on his elbows while I explore.
“There's only you for me,” I mutter. “And it doesn’t matter what you think. Or what you know. My feelings are real.”
23
RICARDO
Her feelings are going to be the death of me. I’m sure of it. They’re too powerful, too tumultuous, and at this point in time, too in my face for any level of comfort.
And I’m so pleased to have her back, I’m not working hard enough to keep her away.
For the first time since I met her, I wonder why I’ve fought so hard, and what kind of sense it makes.
Isabella grabs me and holds me close, and I let her.
“My feelings are real, Ricardo, and I’m done fighting.” Her last statement is a whisper so low it’s barely audible.
I rest my head against hers, dragging in a deep breath saturated with her scent. With our combined scents and sweat, sex. There is nothing else like it in the world. And yeah…I’m done fighting, too.
I want her.
I’m ruined by her and her sweetness, the way she’s always been upfront with me and kind even after how horrible I’ve been to her. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I try to tell myself there is nothing there or my desire extends only to sex.
“It’s been hard,” I confess out loud, “to stay away from you. Harder than I want to admit.”
She only wraps her arms around me tighter and lifts her chin to me. I press a soft kiss against her lips while my heart struggles to get back to its normal beat. It’s only after minutes that I realize it’s slowed to match hers and no slower.
“You’re admitting it now. But if it’s been that hard, Ricard… why have you stayed away?” she asks. And there is more than just a question in her voice. It’s a silent demand for the truth and an even quieter brace against whatever it is I’ll say in response.
As though she expects a hit.
