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“Now wait a minute, Javi.” Excitement flows through me, and he knows this, just like I know he’s hard and I will pay for it tonight on my back. “You’re not playing by my rules.”
“Run.”
“Behave.”
“Three.”
“Papi...” I trail off on a whimper because on my next breath, I’m across the bench seat and in his arms, held captive against his strong chest. “This isn’t fair.”
“One, and it’s fair to me.” Tone rough, Javier opens the door and drags me out with him. My feet never touch the ground, but they do meet behind his back as I wrap my legs tight around his waist. He never pauses. He never stops grabbing and touching and kneading my asscheeks as we ascend the small stairs that lead inside, only stopping long enough to kick the door closed behind us.
Then, we’re walking inside, eyes on each other. We pass the living room and entrance to the dining room on the left before reaching the stairs, which he takes two at a time. The entire place is dark, and silence surrounds us as we pause to kiss or just breathe beside the double doors.
Our need is palpable. Our desire is a flaming inferno breaking us down minute by minute.
Javier slams me against the wall, one hand behind my head while he rips his shirt off with the other. The fabric groans, the tearing sound filling the space while my hands help, pushing it off and then throwing it somewhere behind me.
And then it’s my turn.
My thin blouse meets the same fate while my jeans prove to be a little more difficult, and I can’t help but laugh at his frustrated growl. “Something funny, Muñeca?”
“No. More like perfect.” I run the blunt of my nails down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his pants. “I’m just enjoying your desire for me.”
“I always want you. Every second...” Javier takes my mouth in a quick and harsh kiss before trailing his lips down the column of my throat, stopping at my collarbone “...of every fucking day, my queen. This man breathes for you. Lives only to make you happy.”
“And I love you, Javier Lucas. My husband.” His shiver at my words is all the reward I need. Those words are simple but my honest truth. He’s my best friend and every other title one could give the other half of their soul. “Even past death, it’ll always be you.”
Those warm eyes close for a few seconds before he turns and grips a doorknob in each hand. The pause is small as he takes in a deep breath and then lets it out slowly, yanking each door open with enough force that they slam against the plaster and ruin it. Javier steps inside and doesn’t close us off; instead, his destination is the en-suite bathroom where a large sunken tub awaits us with a rain shower fixture right above.
It’s deep, easily fits six people, and was the one change I made to this place after our first trip here as a couple—a decision he’s agreed with and reaped its benefit on each visit.
With a quick turn of his wrist, the water comes down, splashing the travertine floor and tub while Javier sets me down on my feet. No words are exchanged while he kneels and removes my sandals and then jeans, only kisses and nips and the occasional soft word of praise to God above for making me his.
Standing to his full height, my husband strips what’s left of his own clothing and then walks me the two steps down into the sunken tub. There are a few inches of water lapping at our feet and the warm water falling down our backs as we stand chest to chest.
The moment is full of softness and a breathless sigh that escapes me. Javier tips my face toward him, meeting my lips halfway in the kind of kiss that women write about in romance novels. It holds every emotion. Every ounce of our love. With a gentle caress on my cheek, he guides my head for a better angle, and I follow him—seek out his lips because any amount of separation is unwelcomed.
Tongues twine and teeth nibble, but it’s the hum of pleasure that escapes his chest and vibrates against mine that makes me wet. I moan, and his large hands traverse my short frame until grabbing an asscheek in each hand. He’s kneading, manipulating my body while trapping that glorious cock I worship against my heated skin.
His pre-come lathers me. His mouth dominates mine before pulling back, hooded eyes locked on mine while his cock flexes. “Let me take care of you, Muñeca.”
“We take care of each other, Javi.”
“No. Not tonight.” Turning me around, my back to his chest, his arm crosses my line of sight as he picks up a bottle of shampoo. I feel him pour some on top of my head, the rain shower above spreading it over the crown a bit before his fingers begin to work through my long tresses. “Tonight is about you.”
God, his fingers feel amazing and they lull me into this calm state, my body leaning against his chest. He’s bathing me, rinsing the suds out with gentle runs of his fingers, and then he copies the same actions with the conditioner. Javi knows me and my routine, and I love how he gathers my hair and twists it into a makeshift bun before focusing on my body.
Then I vow to make a shrine to his hands as the body wash is spread across my chest where he spends his time torturing my breasts with squeezes and tweaks of my sensitive nipples. I’m left panting, reaching back to grab onto any part of him to stabilize myself because with each caress it feels as though I’m free-falling.
Down the center of my chest and abdomen, strong fingers dig in on their descent and then stop just above my mound. He keeps his fingers there while my body thrums with burning need, and I grind myself without shame and his cock responds with harsh strokes across the dip in my lower back.
These are the moments when I both love and hate our size difference.
I feel petite and delicate and overpowered by this male.
I want to be just tall enough that his thickness can take its rightful place between my cheeks and rub through the crack.
“Papi, I need—”
