Page 49 of Set Play

“Well, you know about my siblings and that I’m fluent in Spanish. My dad’s parents were born in Mexico, so speaking Spanish was never optional. And then Papá fell in love with Mamá, an American who didn’t speak a word of Spanish.” The familiar pain of their loss hits me in my chest, but I push it aside.

“Abuela was convinced it was a bad omen for their relationship, but Mamá refused to walk away and learned to speak fluently.1”

“What happened? To your parents? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want…it’s just…” Élise takes a shaky breath before continuing, “You speak so fondly of them, but I can tell that the loss still really hurts you.”

Startled that she noticed, I blink at her with newfound appreciation. I don’t try to hide the loss’s impact, but no one ever realizes that it’s more than just “missing my parents.” It’s missing a piece of my heart and soul.

Tears sting the backs of my eyes, and I have to clear my throat several times before I can speak. “It’s not that I don’t want to….I just don’t really know the answer. All I know is that one day, when I was six, they were gone and we were sent to live with Tío Ruben and Tía Ana.2 Anytime we asked, Tío would say it was a freak accident, but never anything else. Eventually, we stopped asking.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mateo,” she laments, gently squeezing the hand that I hadn’t realized she was still holding.

I’m grateful for the comfort. I’m grateful for her.

Mamá’s words echo in my mind. “Life’s easier when someone’s there to hold your hand through the bad times, hijo.3”

Maybe it’s the candlelight or all this talk of the past, but Élise’s features seem softer tonight, like her usual ire with me is muted, like we’ve connected on a deeper level. When she looks at me like this, it’s hard not to imagine her holding my hand through good and bad times.

“Not to ruin a bonding moment by changing the subject.” Her voice cuts through my daydream. “But I can’t believe you threw me over your shoulder and carried me to your room! And smacked my ass! Twice!” She releases my hand to hold up two fingers, like I don’t know what ‘twice’ means.

The melodramatic act pulls a laugh from me, shaking the residual gravity from our conversation. It makes it easy to slip back into my playful mood. Reaching under the table, I pull her chair toward me. “I did,” I whisper, smiling when she shivers, “and before the night ends, I bet I’ll spank your perfect ass several more times.”

Placing a light kiss behind her ear, I drag her plate across the table and smirk. “Now eat, Chispita.”

She glares at me, chest heaving, but does as I say, albeit with more squirming than before. Winking at her, I return to my meal before moving a hand to slowly stroke her thigh, getting closer to her center with each upward pass.

When my pinkie grazes the edge of her panties, Élise’s fork clatters to the table and her eyes, wild with desire, jump to mine, meal forgotten. Then she whispers my name, destroying my control. Fuck. I wanted to tease her through dessert, but I need her. Now.

I stand, pulling her with me. “Here’s your chance to walk away, gorgeous. Once we start.” I gently grip her chin, making her meet my eyes. “There’s no going back.”

Her tongue darts out to lick her lower lip as her eyes flutter shut. I wait, ready for her to back up and call this off, but she surprises me. “What do you have in mind, Big Shot?” she purrs, pressing against me to throw her arms around my neck.

Clicking my tongue, I grip her thighs and lift until she wraps her legs around my waist, before stalking toward the bedroom. “You made me kneel and beg in the locker room. Now, it’s your turn.”

When I set her feet down at the end of the bed, her mouth pops open to object, but quickly closes when my fist winds tightly through her soft waves.

Tipping her head back so she looks up at me, I slowly, calmly repeat myself in a dark, measured voice. “I said…”

1. Abuela = Grandma

2. Tío/Tía = Uncle/Aunt

3. hijo = son

Chapter 25

Élise

“...it’s your turn. So, be a good girl and kneel.”

Never in a million years did I imagine seeing this side of Mateo Reyes, but holy shit, am I excited. Gone is the sweet, playfully flirty guy I met in a cheesy country bar. In his place stands a man that radiates pure dominance, causing need to unfurl low in my belly.

As I stare into those ocean blue eyes, I’m helpless to do anything but slowly sink to my knees before him. I’d have moved faster if I wasn’t worried about accidentally ripping out my hair.

Gazing down at me, Mateo hums, a low rumble in his chest that does wicked things to me. I never knew a sound could be such a turn on, yet even more wetness is gathering between my thighs.

“Mateo,” I try to say his name, but to his apparent delight and my abject horror, it comes out as a whimper.

Like a predator stalking its prey, he slowly tilts his head before giving me a smile that speaks of depraved things to come. Yet he remains silent. Watching. Waiting.