“That feels amazing,” I panted in his ear, his head moved and I caught his grin right before he kissed me again.
Hector was a good kisser but all the other kisses he’d given me were nothing compared to how it felt to be kissed by him while our bodies were connected and he was moving inside me.
None of them were even close.
Eventually, I found I couldn’t kiss him anymore. I was breathing too hard, my hips moving against his, my hands on his skin, my fingernails digging in.
He lifted my legs at the knees and drove in deeper.
It was exquisite.
I shoved my face in his neck as I felt the beautiful anticipatory tightness right before my mouth went to his ear.
“Hector…” I started to say something, I didn’t know what but I didn’t get to finish because, right then it washed over me, fierce, fiery and huge.
Bliss.
When I was done, I opened my eyes slowly, coming down, feeling him still moving inside me, driving deep, grinding hard and I saw he was watching me, his eyes as hot as his skin.
“So… fucking… beautiful,” he whispered.
Then it was my turn to watch.
*
After he was finished, I took his whole weight and found I liked him heavy on me, his heat beating into me, his weight pressing me into the bed, his body still connected with mine.
He started to pull away.
My arms tightened around him and my thighs pressed into his hips.
He stilled.
“I’m too heavy,” he said into my neck.
“I like it,” I whispered. He didn’t say anything so I explained, “Your body’s warm, I always feel cold. You make me feel warm and I never felt warm in my life.”
I decided not to share the “snugly, lovely, comfy, safe” part with him.
A second passed then he muttered, “Jesus.”
Well, maybe he read in the “snugly, lovely, comfy, safe” part.
Blooming heck.
More seconds ticked by then his head came up, his fingers slid into the side of my hair and his eyes scanned my face.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
I didn’t share that I did feel okay. In fact, it might be the first time I felt “okay” in my life. In that bed, in that room, in that house with Hector, I felt I was where I was supposed to be.
Where I belonged.
The drowning sensation hit me, the warm water lapping at my body, threatening to cover me and I had the strange desire to pull in my breath… and sink.
Before this could weird me out (and I did anything stupid), he rolled us, we disconnected, he ended up on his back, me on top, our legs tangled. His body bucked and he yanked the bedclothes from under us and whipped them on top.
I lifted my head and one of his hands came to my hair. He pulled out the ponytail holder and my hair fell down around us. He tossed the ponytail holder on the nightstand and his fingers went inside my camisole then stilled at my sides.
“I wanna take this off,” he murmured.
As an answer, before I chickened out, I did the same thing he did earlier, arching my back and lifting my arms. He tugged off the camisole and threw it to the floor at the side of the bed.
I settled, skin-against-skin, chest-to-chest and his heat was overwhelming, penetrating my body, warming me straight to the core.
He pulled the covers high over my back then his hands slid down to my bottom and cupped me there.
I tucked my face into his neck, his warmth and my sensation of okayness settled in my belly then in my chest, right by my heart.
Softly, I whispered, “Thank you.”
His hands moved from my bottom so his arms could wrap tight around my waist.
This was nice, except his body was moving as if he was laughing.
My body got stiff.
“What’s funny?” I asked his neck.
“Mamita, you just gave me the best gift anyone’s ever given me and you’re thankin’ me?” he replied.
Oh… my… God!
He didn’t just say that.
Did he just say that?
“Are you for real?” I breathed, it came right out of my mouth and I knew I sounded like an idiot but I really did want to know.
His arms got tighter and his body started shaking harder.
My head lifted and I looked at him. He was smiling, brilliant white and glamorous.
“What’s funny now?” I demanded, my eyes narrowed.
His hilarity became vocal and he burst out laughing. I didn’t find anything was funny (at all) so I slapped his shoulder. He rolled us to our sides and shoved his (still laughing) face in my neck.
“Stop laughing,” I ordered.
He kept laughing.
“Seriously, Hector,” I warned him. “I’m getting annoyed.”
His face came out of my neck and when I caught sight of it, he was still smiling.
“Well then, mi cielo, we’ll have to do somethin’ about that,” he announced, rolling us again, him on top.
Then his hands started moving on me.
“What are you…?” I tried to pull away from him but one of his arms locked tight and held me close. I looked at his grinning face but read his intent loud and clear.
He couldn’t be serious. Could he?