Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Santiago leads me down the hall, his hand firm around mine.
My heart won’t slow.
In my experience, sex has always been the guy taking what he can get and leaving me high and dry. Time and time again. For the past few years, hooking up hasn’t been a priority. Not when I can take care of myself better than any man ever could.
Until now, maybe?
The bedroom comes into view. My skin tingles and the ache between my thighs is sharp. I’m soaking wet from anticipation.
God, I hope he’ll show me what I’ve been missing.
He turns to me, fingers brushing my jaw. “Breathe.”
I do. Barely. Then he pulls me closer and I stop thinking altogether.
By the time he kicks the bedroom door shut behind us, I’m drunk on him.
His fresh, clean scent. His velvety voice. The molten weight of his stare.
He lifts me and I wrap my legs around him with desperation.
I don’t have time to be inhibited, I want whatever he’ll give me.
Santiago pauses at the edge of the bed, then places me down and stands over me in a storm of stillness.
Towering, composed, yet seething with a sexual tension crackling beneath his skin.
His gaze flicks over my body, tracing the curves and hollows like a map he’s destined to follow. Worship isn’t the correct word. It’s something older. Deeper.
Surrender.
No, ceremony.
“Still sure?” It’s not just a question. It’s a warning. A vow.
I can’t breathe, but I nod anyway. “Yes.”
He moves toward me with patience, each step a slow obliteration of space. My throat pulses wildly in time with my heartbeat. His fingers slide up the side of my face. Featherlight and reverent, sparking electric shivers as they pass over my skin.
When his mouth brushes my temple, it detonates something in my spine. “Tell me if I move too fast.”
“Not fast enough.” I bite down on my lip.
His grin is dangerous. “God, you’re perfect.”
Our next kiss is not soft. It’s a collision of mouths and intent. Wild and exquisite. Teeth grazing lips, tongues flicking and retreating, then diving again. I pull him into me, fingers threaded into the thick silk of his hair, tugging until he groans into my mouth.
Time bends and breaks. The world outside ceases to exist.
When Santiago’s hands ghost down my arms, I shudder like a tuning fork. He waits, his control stretched tight, as I lift my arms so he can pull my dress over my head. He tosses it to the floor, leaving me naked except for a slip of lace and nothing else.
“You’re…” He swallows hard, voice gone rough. “You’re the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I flinch out of reflex, years of deflection rising like armor. “Stop.”
“No.” His voice is a command. “You don’t get to look like that and not know how stunning you are.”
Then he’s on me, mouth on my throat, dragging his tongue across the soft skin until I cry out, hips arching into him. His hands find my waist, my ribs, my ass with a desperation I’ve never experienced. He’s learning me. Worshipping me.
With clumsy fingers, I reach for his shirt and undo it, one button at a time. Santiago’s chest is a study in heat and sinew. Muscle carved beneath bronze skin. My palm runs down his sternum and he trembles under it. When the last button opens, he shrugs out of the shirt.
I swear, the sight of him bare makes my lungs seize.
He lowers me back into the bed, mouth moving with determination.
Down my neck, across my collarbone, to the swell of my breast. When he sucks a nipple into his mouth, his tongue lashes rhythmically.
The friction detonates pleasure straight to my pussy.
My fingers claw at the sheets, thighs pressed together aching for something to fill the void in between them.
“Holy fuck, you’re astonishing,” Santiago moans into my skin. “God, Rosa, I’ve got to feel how wet you are for me.”
His hand cups me through the flimsy lace. Then he peels my panties down in a single, fluid motion, like he’s unwrapping something too precious to tear.
Seconds later, his fingers slide over my slick heat, stroking my clit in torturous circles. Building. Breaking and building again. My back bows as I utter a soundless gasp.
He watches my reaction, eyes molten, lips parted like he’s praying.
When he decisively slips two fingers inside me, he curls them just so and my vision stutters. It’s not just penetration, it’s possession. He finds my secret place and drags over it again. And again. My legs shake. My whimpers are loud, uncontrolled.
“Right there,” he growls when he hits me just so. “I’ve found it.”
I fist the sheets, teeth clenched, breath ragged as he strokes the spot over and over. When I’m about to tip—
He stops.
I nearly sob with frustration. “Santiago—”
“If you’re okay with it, I’d like to be inside you.
The first time I make you come, I want to feel you squeeze my cock.
” He kneels between my thighs and yanks his boxer briefs down and off.
His impressive shaft is flush on his belly.
He strokes himself once, twice, eyes locked on mine, before guiding the head to my entrance.
“I can’t come this way,” I sadly admit, trying to close my legs.
“Rosa.” Santiago breathes and presses my legs apart with his knees. “I promise. Tonight is the final night you’ll ever be able to say such a horrible thing. I’ll make sure of it.”
His cock hovers, the tip scarcely breaching my entrance while he waits for permission.
God, I want him to be right. Before I can reconsider, I nod once.
He sinks in slow, inch by maddening inch, until he’s buried to the hilt, his hips flush with mine.
Despite how wet I am, the stretch is hot, thick, overwhelming. A burn melting into bliss. For a breathless moment, he holds himself there, eyes locked on mine as I adjust to his size.
When my pussy relaxes, he draws back and thrusts deep.
Once. Twice. By the third pass, we begin to move in a rhythm older than language.
His hips grind into mine. I rise to meet every pulse.
His hand tangles in my hair, the other grips my thigh to anchor me in place.
Our bodies slap wet and frantic, sweat-slick and shimmering in the dark.
My nails dig into his back. Groaning. Panting.
“Your body is made for sin,” he grits. “I’m gonna worship every fucking inch of you.”
My climax hits me without warning and crests like a wave. Unforgiving, immense. It slams through my body into my core, which locks around him.
Every muscle taut. Every nerve electric.
I cry out, raw and holy. If this is what it means to be claimed.
I’m all in.
We collapse together in a slow, gasping tangle. His weight presses me into the mattress, arms quaking as he braces himself above me.
Neither of us speaks at first. Words seem irrelevant. Too small for what we experienced.
He shifts gently, pulling out as he trails a kiss down the side of my neck. When he lays next to me, I’m surprised when his rigid cock burrows into my hip.
At first I’m impressed by his stamina.
Then it occurs to me, we didn’t use a condom and nothing’s leaking out of me.
He hasn’t come yet. He didn’t let himself because we didn’t use protection. The realization strikes like a spark in the fog of my afterglow.
“Rosa…” Santiago presses his forehead to my temple, voice rough with restraint. “I got caught up. I wasn’t… I didn’t anticipate we’d get here so fast,” he breathes, searching my face. “I didn’t bring anything. I wasn’t planning to fuck. I’m so sorry I didn’t stop before…”
I blink up at him, my body still molten, nerves singing. “I didn’t expect this to happen either, but it isn’t your fault. We’re both consenting adults. Unless you give me reason to think otherwise, I don’t regret it.”
He exhales, with relief. “I was selfish. I can take care of you so many other ways. We should have discussed this…before. If it alleviates any worry, I was honest when I told you I haven’t been with anyone in over a year. I’m clean. I’ve been tested. I would never deliberately harm you.”
His earnest, unpolished words sink into me.
I hear the question inside the confession. I sense the hesitation. His desire warring with the fear of crossing a line with me.
Something uncoils deep in my belly, and the answer comes not from logic, but from the raw place he seems to touch “I want to make you come too.” My voice trembles with truth. “Inside me.”
His eyes widen, not with lust. Something deeper.
“Are you sure?” His hand slides along my jaw, cupping it like I might vanish. “We don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I cover his hand with mine. “Obviously, I’m clean too. I’m also protected. I have an IUD. I want this. I want you.”
Santiago groans softly, like the sound has been torn from him. “Fuck, Rosa…”
Then he kisses me again. Messy and consuming as he shifts his hips and guides himself back to my entrance. The slick, blunt head of his cock presses into my opening. This time, there’s nothing between us. No questions. No barriers.
Only heat and trust.
He pushes in and the sensation the second time around is devastating.
My body stretches to take him, the fullness stealing my breath. It’s raw and overwhelming and right. I moan into his mouth and wrap my legs around his waist as he sinks deep and deeper, until I’m utterly filled.
“Oh my God.” I throw my head back. “You’re the key I was missing.”
He holds still, buried to the hilt, chest heaving against mine.
“Ahhhh, yesss,” he rasps. “I won’t last, you’re too much like heaven.”
“Don’t hold back.” I kiss the corner of his mouth. “I want you to fill me.”
His eyes widen and lock on to mine. Something shifts—lust, yes, but also something more feral. Primal.
Me giving him permission flips a switch inside him.
Santiago grinds deeper and faster with every thrust. His hips rotate and swivel to ensure the head of his cock zeroes in on the sensitive parts of me still swollen and fluttering from my previous orgasm. Our rhythm builds. My hips rise to meet him as I chase the edge again.
This time, the burn begins low in my belly, coiling tighter and tighter.
His tempo turns desperate, erratic.
“I’m so fucking close,” he growls. “God, Rosa, I’m gonna lose it…”
“Yes,” I moan, clinging to him. “I want it. I want all of it.”
With a broken cry, he drives deep one final time, his whole body tensing as he spills everything he has into me. Thick, hot, and endless. The flood of his release trickles down my inner thighs and the sensation of every throb and pulse of his cock trembling through the aftershocks nearly wrecks me.
Our intimacy ignites a fuse I didn’t know was waiting to be lit.
My second orgasm rips through me, raw and liquid. My body clamps around him, milking him. Waves and waves of the most exquisite pleasure ripple through my core. When the spasms fade, he doesn’t pull out. He stays pressed inside, his forehead buried in the curve of my neck.
I lie there, trembling, filled with his weight, his heat, his come.
And I love it.
I love the mess of it, the claiming. The way my body has been stretched and used and is now gloriously his. I want more. There’s no going back.
He shifts slightly, drawing lazy shapes on my hip with his thumb. “You okay?”
“I’ve never felt more okay.” A small smile curls at the corner of my lips.
Santiago kisses my temple, his lips soft and reverent. “Even if we didn’t mean for us to go this fast,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to stop.”
Neither do I.
But I don’t say it. Not yet.
Instead, the world narrows to a tangle of heat and heart, bodies trembling, drenched in each other. He shifts, careful and slow, then slides out of me with a soft, aching drag. The bed sighs beneath us as he pulls me against him, his chest to my back, one arm looping tightly around my waist.
His cock, still half-hard, nestles into the curve of my ass, sticky and warm, and somehow this lingering contact is more intimate than anything else we’ve done tonight.
His lips find the top of my head. I let my eyes flutter closed, muscles slack with surrender. He holds me in place, hand splayed across my belly like he’s trying to memorize the shape of me from the inside out.
He strokes a lazy pattern just beneath my navel, then lets his hand drift lower until his fingers move gently over my still-sensitive clit, each touch light but devastating, like he’s trying to tease another tremor out of me just to prove he can.
A whimper escapes, small and helpless. “Santiago…”
“Let me,” he whispers into my skin. “I want to make you come again. Slowly this time.”
Within a few minutes, he’s fully erect, nudging at my entrance, his fingers still stroking as he presses into me with aching care, inch by inch we’re fully merged.
He doesn’t thrust. Or chase a climax of his own.
His fingers work me, slow and devastating, until a pleasure so acute and unyielding creeps up like dense, inescapable mist. My body clenches around him in ripples, not harsh spasms. My soft cries swallowed by his kisses.
The intensity of this orgasm is infinitely deeper, shattering everything I knew before.
After, he wraps himself tighter around me, hand at my belly, cock submerged inside me, like he belongs there.
“Do you know what’s happening between us?” he whispers.
I nod, breath shaking. “I think so.”
“Sex has never been like this for me.” His voice is strained with emotion. “Making love with you is like the first time, only a million times better.”
The air stills. A warm silence stretches around us. His touch softens. Fingers drift in lazy strums over my skin. Our bodies remain joined, and in the quiet of my rental bedroom, something new takes root.
Something lasting perhaps?
God, I need to get a grip. A transformational sexual encounter doesn’t mean anything, really.
I need to live in the moment. Enjoy being filled, held, and whole.
Hopefully have a few more orgasms.
No need to give my heart away so soon.
This is more than enough for now.