She kisses my thumb, and there’s something magnificent in her gesture of submission.
I watch it happen again.
I drag my touch over her lips and wait for her to kiss my thumb.
She smiles beneath my touch.
I lock her eyes, her gaze narrowing with longing.
My thumb goes over her lips one last time before my mouth touches hers. She breaths against my lips, waiting, her fingers moving to my chest and kneading softly.
I lock her lips, and she quietly moans, burning beneath my touch, instantly getting me hard. The small space between us disappears, so she can feel me, and I can feel her.
We kiss with barely restrained passion.
I needed her since that night when Roman made his rules, Francisco had her in his arms, and Alejandro fucked her.
Dark forces started a war inside me, competing with each other to ruin everything.
Lust and possessiveness.
I barely suppressed the need to pull her away from them while wanting her to stay and feel the pleasure.
I wanted her legs open for them, her eyes blank, and her lips twisted with guilt.
I was so conflicted and turned on, and it all ended when I felt the hallow of protection Alejandro had cast around her and the ease with which she fell into Francisco’s arms.
It was dark, sensual, and eventually impossible to take, so I left. But that sexual tension that I experienced then has never left my body.
It only went into recess, and it’s coming back now with a vengeance, simmering in my veins, building tension in my body.
I try to get a grip and pull back, away from her, but she grabs my neck with her hands and doesn’t let me go.
“Don’t…” she murmurs, her eyes burning, unfocused like she’s running a fever.
She slides her zipper down, not taking her eyes away from me. I know what she’s doing without lowering my gaze to observe her.
She takes off the top of her jumpsuit and pushes it down.
She’s naked down to her slit, the sleeves hanging, limp around her hips.
Tipping my gaze, I drink in her body. She holds the same power over me as she's always held.
I can’t move my eyes away.
I can’t keep my touch away.
Drowsy, I lift my hand to her chest. She does nothing while I cup her breasts, stroke her nipples, and later, run my fingers over her slit.
With stoic patience, she stifles her reaction when I slide two fingers over her clit.
She must feel the pleasure and tension I feel, when I open her folds and slide my fingers over her flesh before circling her clit.
She clenches her thighs, splays her hands over my neck, tips her face up, and kisses my lips.
I kiss her back. More like consume her. It’s all she needs. Her fire flaring, her fingers digging into me.
She pours her heart into her kiss before removing her jumpsuit and dropping it on the bed.