With every stroke, he pulls me deeper into him, drawing me closer to his power. I lean forward until I’m practically draped in his arms, my fingers fanned over his neck and threaded through his hair.
This has become a crazy ride and takes a lot of effort to live in the moment. Experience it with a fast pulse in our chests and intense tension in our bodies.
In these moments of passion, I remember what I’ve always told myself. I want to taste everything offered to me and enjoy it to the last drop.
Reality will catch up with us. And we will think about what we have done, having these memories with us.
A deep fire zooms through my blood, igniting firestorms across my skin. I move my hand to his chest, undo a couple of buttons, and cup his bulge.
He seems awfully restrained considering how hot we are, how bad we burn, and how much we want it.
His hard cock stirs against my hand when he breaks the kiss and adjusts his bulge, a stern look sliding over his face.
“Not here. Let’s not do it here.”
He touches his groin again, grimacing a little, while looking around, trying to orient himself.
I have no idea where we are, but he does.
He checks his watch, fishes his phone out of his pocket, and clutches the wheel with one hand before backing away and steering the car onto the road while talking on the phone.
He’s not looking at me, checking the road while I slip back into a haze, listening to his voice, watching him with heavy eyes.
He talks, and I can’t grasp a word, indulging in these beautiful moments. I like his resolve and love his restraint.
He does things the right way.
Who knew this evening would be like this?
The lights of a hotel flicker in the distance before we follow the road through a beautifully manicured landscape and stop in front of a villa tucked among luxuriant vegetation close to the beach.
The air is crisper now, the night breeze and realization that I’m here with him sending a shiver down my spine.
It all feels romantic, lustful, and mysterious. It also feels dirty and secretive.
The man waiting for me to catch up with him puts fire in my blood. I can’t break my eyes away from him.
He looks confident, and in control while having a fire in his veins.
The entrance is discreetly lit, arched doors inviting us in. We’re not holding hands or anything like that.
We walk into the lobby like secret lovers sharing secret longings while spending time with each other in a set frame of time.
The woman at the front desk locks eyes with Alejandro, greeting him with a soft nod. She must be the person he has talked to.
She slides a key card across the desk before he picks it up and motions me to the stairs.
Our steps get muffled by the plush rugs making this affair so quiet. It’s interesting how we need no words since our brains are now in synch.
The door slides open.
He invites me in, his gesture telegraphing a slight rush for the first time. It’s not about getting it over with but reconnecting.
The door falls closed.
“Anything to drink?” he asks, moving around the suit with ease as if he’s been here before.
I move my gaze over the wooden floors, the heavy furniture, the art hanging on the walls, and soothing lights that are mostly dim.