Heaving, hard nipples crash against my chest with each attempt at a shallow exhale. “We’re still in my gallery, so...”
“That’s true. You’ve said that what we have ends tomorrow.” I wriggle the tightness in my jaw, still incensed over Essence’s audacity. As I strap on a condom, I retort, “I say, no matter what, you’ll always remember this. I’ve tongue-stuffed your pussy and licked the sweet, round slope of your ass and tits all over your gallery. We left no area uncovered.”
My dick rams deep, dominating the depth of Essence Tavers in one hard thrust. I growl, “We’ve christened every area of your gallery, preciosa.”
Chapter 7
Essence
If I weren’t dick-deprived, I’d kick Antonio out again. He’s a walking contradiction. Damn right, I’ll never forget about him worshipping me in every section of my business and home. Nevertheless, it’s not for any reason I initially assumed.
I wanted the sex to be all about him.
Ammunition to send me running in the opposite direction. No, sprinting like a gazelle in the Sahara, fighting for survival.
But instead of getting himself off, Antonio catered to my needs for so long that the retort is lodged down my raw throat.
I growl, “Who said I’d forget about you, Antonio?” Why couldn’t you be a self-centered bastard? A wham-bam-thank-you, ma’am, type of asshole?
“Aye, you still have that mouth.”
Oh, shit. No, I don’t! The dick blazing uncharted territories deep in my pussy slides out. A hand clasps my hair around its knuckles. Antonio sits on the steps, bringing me onto my knees before him. He removes the condom with his hard dick in my face.
I gasp, “Hey—”
My argument sends a smooth, veiny cock gliding across my throat.
Antonio’s hand clamps along my neck. “Sí, preciosa. Relax the lovely shape of your mouth. Just relax. Your soul has begged for this.”
Liquid drenches down my leg as a spontaneous orgasm overthrows me like a wave in the ocean I hadn’t anticipated.
As I cum, Antonio lifts his hips, pounding my tonsils like they are his personal congas.
He pulls out and lifts me around his waist. I’m gasping and begging him, “You stopped...”
“Not so soon, preciosa. You’re kicking me out tomorrow, sí?” A thread of menace enters his tone. My heart dies in my chest for a small fragment as I contemplate my single stipulation.
Tomorrow we can’t be together. That kind of hurts.
As Antonio ascends the wooden steps into my room, the strength of his biceps sends me up into the air and back into his arms. I’m straddling him. He spears me straight to the core, dick swerving the entire length of my valley.
With him punching at my cervix, I scream, “Oh my, oh my fucking... Right there...”
This moment is surreal.
The first man I’ve had in forever.
The first man to enter my dream home—my loft overlooking my gallery.
My very own sanctuary.
I cling to Antonio’s muscular frame. My thighs strain to keep him here forever. A single tear descends over my cheek as he lays me down on my bed, his entire body covering mine. Antonio transitions to long, languid strokes, like my valley has become his canvas.
“Preciosa, you’re so beautiful when you cry.”
“This is bea...” Oh damn, oh damn, I’m sobbing. “This is beautiful.”
I stare up into the face of the purest form of attraction.
Light.
Dark.
Antonio increases in tempo, and when he detonates, my walls clench around his shaft for dear life. The fire in Antonio’s eyes controls my usually fickle gaze.
For a time, I’m devoured by Antonio Emmanuel Silva until my eyes close, and I ride the waves of passion. I roll over in bed to the sound of his smooth chuckling.
Easily offended, I ask, “What?”
“You’re quite the Olympian.”
“Oh, we’re name calling, Antonio? That makes you conceited.”
“Is it conceited for me to wonder what places on your body have never been touched? Ahem, I mean never been touched by a mouth? Like the crown of your head as I had earlier. No one ever has kissed you there. You’ve run too fast for everyone else.”
I expire the deepest exhale of my life. “You got me. Nobody’s kissed me there. But you were wrong in your other assessment.”
“What’s that, preciosa?” he asks.
“I’m not running today. I’ll allow you to leave. This is my house.”
Confidently resting his hands behind his head, Antonio agrees, “Alright, I’ll go away.”
“Doesn’t look like...”
“Tomorrow, preciosa. You gave me until tomorrow. Now, what’s for lunch?”
I laugh. “What can I microwave for you?”
Antonio mutters something about being crazy in Spanish, except utilizing the masculine and not the feminine form. I have half a mind to take his ass to school when it hits me. He’s called us both crazy.
Peeved, I climb to my feet on my floor mattress only to trip over the feather duvet.
“Preciosa, maybe we should fuck again? You’re still tense.”
I’ll be damned if all we did was fuck. No, Essence. That’s beside the point. Get rid of him. “Follow me.”