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Signio.
Being swept away…
The body moves and his warm arm wraps around my stomach, tucking me against his side and making me aware that I’m now wearing some kind of shirt. His scent is undeniable and body warm; I never want to leave this moment. The feel of him against me is heaven, and God knows how many nights I’ve dreamt of this.
Pretending that we were together while ignoring a reality that hurts.
This is real. You’re here.
I’m in Alejandro’s bed.
Heat blooms across my cheeks, and I smile. Inside the darkness of these four walls, no one will witness my girlish moment. And had I been alone, there’s no doubt I might’ve squealed and hugged my pillow. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted—to choose for myself—and while I know it’s not a promise of forever, I want to grab the moment and not think.
It’s why I move slowly and disentangle myself from him, slipping further down the bed until my face is over his stomach and I count each indentation with a finger, caressing each slowly as I descend toward his happy trail. There’s six in total, and the large tattoo of a hydra is something I didn’t notice last night.
You fell asleep before the man could remove his clothes.
It’s his fault, though. The orgasm Alejandro pulled from my body with a single lick over my lace-covered slickness left me weak. Satiated and happy. One minute I’m falling over the edge headfirst into nirvana, and then, I don’t remember much after.
There were murmured words I couldn’t make out.
There were gentle touches that pulled me further into sleep.
It was perfect, but…
“I want more. So much more.”
18
“I WANT MORE. So much more.”
Little does my girl know that I’ve been awake the last two hours watching her rest. Counting each breath and sigh, taking note of the way she wiggles her right leg to rock herself into a deeper slumber. It’s an adorable habit. But then again, I’m completely fucked over for this slip of a girl.
There’s no denying the attraction, but I’m not dumb nor do I ignore that things between us run much deeper than lust. There’s something about her that gets under my skin and burrows deep. She calls to me. Her mere presence moves the ground I stand on.
Slipping from my loose hold, Solimar moves lower until her breath fans across my abdomen.
She’s mumbling to herself as her slim finger trails over each ab. There’s the mention of numbers and a whimper as she slips just a little lower, pushing the strewn-about bed sheet down toward my feet.
I’m hard for her—throbbing—as beads of pre-come pool at the slit of my engorged head and disappear into the pajama bottoms I slipped into late last night. It’s been this way each time she moves or squirms or simply breathes.
I’ve been biding my time while the faint taste of her wetness still lingers on my lips. I’ve counted each crescent moon shape left behind by Signio’s hold on her earlier this evening, and for each one of the seven, he’ll bear his own marks before the weekend is through. I vowed this to her while she burrowed deeper and her hand reached out for mine subconsciously while she slept.
It’s also why I’m not flipping her around and sinking balls deep yet.
I love her. It’s an emotion that with her, I welcome.
Three words that up until now I’ve only said to my family on rare occasions, but with her…
Christ, she’s in deep. They come naturally and bring no doubt or fear, and I want her here in my home—sharing my life. Something I’ll make a permanent situation after my trip to Guatemala in a few days.
It’s a visit years in the making and the start of the end.
Their death is our beginning.
I love her.
This is her decision, and I’ll give her what she needs. My time. My attention. My love. Solimar wants me to fuck her and I will, but only after she cries out for me. I want her to give herself completely and admit that I own her.
