Chapter 5 #2
I press both hands hard against her, pinning her to me.
My teeth nip her right earlobe since my lips were there as I whispered to her.
She shivers once, and I watch over her shoulder as her nipples tighten.
My hold on her dominates her. It’s purely possessive, and we both know it.
She doesn’t tense, so I’m confident she knows I’ll stop if she tells me to.
I’m not that caremonda—face of a penis—from earlier.
Instead, her head lolls back on my shoulder as her hips undulate, tempting my fingers into her cunt.
I don’t give in. I bite and tug her earlobe instead.
She shudders, and I love it. It was involuntary.
I’m certain of it because there’s a moment after when she tenses before she remembers this is supposed to be a role she’s playing.
I can practically hear her thoughts. I’m positive they’re the same ones I would have if I were in her position.
Both physically and metaphorically in this cat and mouse relationship we’re developing.
You’re no better than she is. You’d love for this to be real instead of a fucked-up, real life chess match.
How she feels is fucking real, that’s for damn sure. How hard my dick is, is just as real.
Neither of us can admit it, but we both want to enjoy ourselves while we work. If we can get off without dying, then that’s a good night’s work.
I’m slow as I finish pulling her dress up to her waist, enjoying each inch revealed to me. In the better lighting than on the boat, I can see her ass isn’t what most would consider perfection. The skin is smooth as silk, but there are soft ripples. It’s perfect for me.
People say I’m the pretty one in the family, and it pisses me off. I’m more than just my good lucks. Yeah, I won the fucking genetic mega lottery. Yeah, it lets me get away with shit and opens doors that would remain shut for plenty of people.
But the same comments I’ve heard for the past twenty years are getting old. I’d rather people see me as imperfect than the living, breathing Latino Ken doll. That’s why I like Tiffani’s ass. She’s gorgeous, but she isn’t perfect. People know she’s more than just her good looks.
If anyone in this club is jealous, it’s me. I wish people would see me how they probably see her.
Buck up, buttercup. Pity party’s over.
I snap myself out of my wandering insecurities and back to the temptation in front of me as my hands once again squeeze her ass, lifting and separating her cheeks. The things I want to do to her…
I kiss down her back as I pull her hips toward me.
My eyes are on what’s happening outside the window and our reflection.
That’s fucking erotic as fuck. I crouch and blow cool air against the inside of her thigh.
She shifts restlessly. I won’t kneel because: A.
I kneel for no one, and B. if I need to stand in a hurry, I’m not shuffling around to get to my feet even if I can rock back onto my heels and rise in one movement.
I flick my tongue against her clit, then drag it along her seam, slipping it into her pussy. My fingers bite into her ass, surely leaving marks, and she pushes back into my hold.
Then my phone buzzes in my pocket.
And I grin while she can’t see me.
I rise and pull it out as her head whips around to watch me.
“Hola, primo.”
“Is my timing perfect as usual, cousin?”
“Sí.”
I told Joaquin that if he saw me bringing her up here tonight, he was to call me twenty minutes later. Sure, part of it is to make sure I’m still alive. But largely it’s to leave her hanging.
Sexual frustration is the worst kind of frustration, isn’t it?
My guess is she speaks Spanish, and that’s part of why she was hired to target me. I know she can’t hear Joaquin, and I don’t need to say more than yes. Even if I did, I wouldn’t unless it was to mislead her. I end the call and shoot her a regretful frown.
“I have to go, chiquita. Something came up.”
She glances down at my crotch, where my trousers don’t disguise my hard-on. Her eyes appear sad, but the quirk of her lips tells me she knows I’m just as uncomfortable as she is. But I can survive not getting my rocks off.
“Pity.” She shrugs before retying her straps and pushing down her skirt.
“I’ll walk you downstairs.”
Our gazes lock for a moment before she looks away. There was that air of confidence that she had on the yacht. A touch of defiance, arrogance, and understanding. She knows there’s not a chance I’ll leave her up here alone. She knows I know she knows.
I entwine my fingers with hers and walk down the stairs. They’re steep, and this part of the club isn’t well lit on purpose. I genuinely don’t want her to tumble down the stairs in the four-inch heels she’s wearing.
“Thank you.”
We turn to look at each other when we reach the ground floor.
“You’re welcome. Can I get you another drink?”
“No. I’m going to head out. Thank you for a—unexpected night.”
I lean forward and whisper to her before grazing my bottom teeth against the skin behind her ear. “Unexpected and enchanting.”
I watch her eyes widen as I straighten. I doubt she expected such an old-fashioned word.
Keep her guessing, mi amigo.
I flash her a grin before we continue to the door. I step out with her and watch her hail a cab.
“Goodnight, Alejandro.”
Fucking hell!
I just realized I never got her name because I kept thinking of her as Tiffani.
“You never told me your name.”
“I know.”
She hurries to the corner and pulls open the car door. She looks over her shoulder and wags her fingers in a wave. My lips pucker as my jaw shifts. I struggle to repress the smile that wants to break free.
You may have put me in check, but this match isn’t over until I say checkmate.