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He rolled on a condom and impaled me with one sharp thrust.
“Carlos,” I cried as he pumped his hips. “Please let me put my hands on you.” I didn't wait for a response, gripping his shoulders for support.
“Don't let go.”
He slammed into me, then we kissed. He could be so savage, and his lips were a soft spot. His hands, however, were not. I imagined the things they'd done and got a thrill. The way he treated me—I’d never had a lover like Carlos before . . . and probably never would again.
His possessiveness sent me off again. “Five,” I shouted, throwing back my head.
“You can give me one more.”
It was impossible, but I soaked him to the point where his legs were wet where I rode him, coated in my desire. Every thrust was so deep, so good, the connection between us something powerful and unexpected. Another orgasm broke over me. I chanted his name and rested my forehead on his as he found his release.
“Beauty,” he cried with a reverence I'd never heard in another human's voice. He pumped into me until he had nothing left to give. I wound my arms around him, holding him tight.
I'd made a mistake. I couldn't just do sex with this man, and I sure as hell wasn't giving him up now that I'd had a taste. The rest of my family had an addiction to whatever substance they could get their hands on. I thought I'd escaped that, but I was destined for the same fate, only my addiction wasn't drugs, it was Carlos.
“Wow,” I finally said.
He was a man not only satisfied with a powerful orgasm but also pleased at what he'd done to me. “Have I worn you out?” he asked smugly, swiping at a strand of my hair that hung limply in my face.
“Yes,” I almost groaned. “But I feel energized too.”
“I need a minute.” He chuckled, sensing my rekindling desire.
“You can have more than that. I'm spent.”
“I don't think you are.” He nibbled my ear, and I shifted on his lap. All those orgasms he'd given me, and I was ready for more. He lifted me off him and laid me across the mattress, placing a pillow under my head and giving me a kiss on the forehead. “I'll be right back.”
He went into my bathroom, and I admired his gorgeous ass until he disappeared. My lids closed, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this good. I felt something warm and damp between my legs, and opened my eyes to find him wiping me clean. “You don't have to do that,” I protested lightly. He gave me an admonishing look and continued until he was satisfied. Then he dried me off with a towel he'd brought with him.
Carlos took the dirty laundry back to the bathroom before he crawled into bed beside me. Was there nothing he didn't think of when it came to my well-being?
“What time is it?”
He twisted to see the clock on the nightstand. “Almost eleven thirty.”
I sat straight up. “We’ve been in bed that long?”
The smug expression on his face confirmed it. But that beat the defeated one he’d worn earlier.
“It didn’t seem long enough to me.”
I swatted at him. “I have to getsomework done.”
He rolled on top of me, covering my mouth with his. When he pulled back, we were both breathless.
“That’s not the best way for me to accomplish that,” I said, pretending to be put out when all I really wanted to do was stay right here. For as long as I could remember, I’d been taking care of another person. My parents when they went on a bender. My brother because our parents weren’t capable. And then came the positive pink lines on the pregnancy stick. I’d kissed dating goodbye and put everything into saving money to help me get through the first six weeks when I couldn’t work after having Gabriel. But now? Holy crap, this man had not only helped me play hooky from work but he’d also given me six orgasms in one go. Six. Sex with Carlos felt . . . indulgent. When was the last time I’d done something for me?
“Thank you.” Carlos brushed the hair back from my face with a tenderness I didn’t expect.
“For what?” My voice was barely above a whisper.
“Making me feel again.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Carlos
