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“That’ll come later.” He pushed aside the torn remains of her thong, exposing her glistening folds to his hungry gaze.
If it had been possible, Olivia would have come just from the look on Mateo’s face as he watched her spread open before him. It wasn’t reverence. It wasn’t lust. It was a mix of both and something she couldn’t identify that softened the hard lines in his face even as desire turned his hazel eyes dark green.
Heat swamped her body as potent as the thickest August humidity and sweat beaded against her skin while she waited for him to make his next move. It was nearly more than she could bear.
“Mateo,” she moaned, the desperate desire turning her liquid and pliant, making her voice breathy.
Raising his gaze up to her face, he slid a single finger into her opening, circling it so it rubbed against every millimeter of her as if he were exploring uncharted territory. Her thighs quivered, recognizing a familiar master at work. She lifted her hips in an effort to take more of him in, but he rested his forearm across her, right above her pubic bone, forcing her ass back against the island. His weight as he pressed down added to the intensity of the electric sensation sizzling up from her core as he toyed with her.
It may have been years since they’d done this, but he hadn’t lost a step. The man loved to torment her as much as he liked to take her higher than she’d ever been with anyone else.
“What do you want?” he asked.
As if he didn’t know. As if it wasn’t the same thing he wanted.
“I want you inside me.” She needed to be filled by him, stretched to her limit and taken even further. It’s what she’d always needed: Mateo and no one else.
“Like this?” A second finger joined the first, working in tandem, sending delicious shivers through her body. “Oh, look at your pussy clench around me. I think you missed me.”
They’d never been exclusive and she’d never been a saint, but no one played her body like Mateo. Hard when she needed it and soft when she wanted it, he’d always fit her as if their bodies knew something their heads didn’t. That’s what had made his banishment of her from his life after the accident so heartbreaking. They may have pretended it had been about being fuck buddies, but it never had been—that connection had always been there and it hadn’t gone anywhere. She’d never stopped loving him and now in Salvation, they’d found their way back to each other again.
“So slick. So soft. Let’s see how you taste.” He removed his arm from across her hips then pulled her outer lips wide and dipped his tongue into her, lapping at her folds as if they were covered in cream.
The heady sensations were nearly overwhelming as he teased her clit and twisted his fingers, sliding them in and out of her pussy. They zipped up her spine, making her back arch and drawing a hungry moan from her throat.
“Even better than I remembered.” He glided his tongue across her clit, hard enough to push her to the edge but soft enough to leave her wavering on it without going over.
Breath coming in short gasps, she grabbed the edges of her skirt that he’d tossed up around her waist and fisted the material, needing something to hold on to because her sanity was slipping away. “It’s not nice to tease.”
He blew against her swollen clit. “Who said I was nice?”
Before she could form a response, he was back at it—his mouth, tongue and fingers everywhere, at once or at least that’s how it felt as an electric current ran through her body, jolting everything from her mind except for the magic Mateo was performing between her legs. The scratch of his unshaved cheeks against her sensitive flesh, pricking her already-taut nerve endings. The wet warmth of his tongue circling her clit until her whole body throbbed. The hard thrust of his fingers as he plunged inside her, rubbing in just the right spot with each forward and reverse.
The pulsing started in her core, slow and steady, building with every breath she inhaled until her entire body thrummed. He took her closer and closer to that edge with each touch, each lick, each unspoken promise of what was to come next until there was no next—there was only now and the pleasure pulsing through her as her orgasm broke and she came apart.
A blissful haze surrounded her, making any movement nearly impossible, but she couldn’t let it take over just yet. She needed more. She needed Mateo. Sitting up, she gathered her bearings back here on planet earth.
He stood between her legs, a lusty gleam darkening his eyes, her juices on his lips and a raging hard-on tenting his shorts. But instead of whipping his shorts off, he tugged her upturned
skirt back in place and took a step away from her. There was something in his face she didn’t recognize, a hesitance she’d never associated with Mateo—definitely not when it came to sex.
It hit her dead between the eyes. She couldn’t ask if she was the last woman he’d been with, not without all of his defenses locking into place, but it made sense. They’d met at the hotel a few weeks before the explosion in Afghanistan. After that, his life had been hospitals and a homecoming to a town he’d never wanted to come back to with a face he didn’t recognize when he looked in the mirror. She clamped her teeth together hard enough to make her jaw ache so she wouldn’t say anything stupid. Mateo didn’t admit to or show vulnerability, before or after his injuries. Bringing up what he would see as a weakness would only push him further away, and she was done with that. They had a second chance together, a do-over on life; she just had to get him to see that. He wouldn’t listen to her words, but she could make him feel the truth with her body.
She hopped down from the island and reached around to lower the zipper at the back of her skirt. She shimmied her hips and the material slid down her legs and landed in a pool at her feet. Slowly, she slid a bra strap down, then the other, before reaching behind her for the hooks holding it up. A second later her bra joined her skirt on the floor. “Sit down in that chair.”
He crossed his arms over that fabulously muscular chest of his, making his biceps bulge. “Since when do you get to give orders?”
Doing her best catwalk strut, her breasts swaying with each stomping step forward, she strutted to him. Stopping just short of his broad chest, she snagged the elastic waistband of his shorts and pulled it as far away from his washboard abs as it would go.
“Ever since I decided that I’m going to be the one to ride first. I want to watch you as I take that big cock of yours inside me and rock back and forth on it until you come so hard your toes will stay curled for a week.” She let go of his shorts and they snapped back against his abs with a satisfying crack. “Now take those off.”
The chair was hard, cold and uncomfortable as hell, but Mateo didn’t give a shit—not when Olivia stood in front of him. She looked even better naked than he remembered. Her curves had softened, become more pronounced since she’d given up modeling, but it wasn’t just that. The way she held herself was different. Any element of performance was gone, replaced by a confidence that was sexier than anything he’d ever seen.
“I’ll let you have your way this once.” He reached down and circled his hard cock, giving it a slow stroke.
Her gaze followed his movements and she licked her lips. “How big of you.”
“Big, huh?” His dick thickened under her hot, assessing gaze. “I suppose I am.”
