Chapter 35
Standing in Yolanda’s office, my hands gripping her arms, still breathing heavily from our fight, reeling from a tumult of emotions, I kiss her with a need that has been building for over a decade.
She responds in kind, moaning against my lips and opening her mouth for me.
I take, greedily, desperately. The warmth of her, the taste of her, the feel of her slick, darting tongue, sends a victorious thrill through me. I slant my lips across her mouth, taking the kiss deeper. Her pleasured moan ripples across my tongue.
There is no doubt or hesitation in me. Not anymore. She has asked the impossible. Asked me to have faith in her despite my fearful past. And to have her, I’ll do it. Without regret. Fuck the consequences.
Her hand slides down my chest, across my abs, and blessedly, thankfully, to my raging cock, straining against my shorts.
I put my hand atop hers and squeeze. We moan as one.
“Condom?” she breathes.
The yes-now of that word rides down my body in a swell of heat. “Wallet,” I say because I am a grown-ass man who knows to always have protection. And more than one. I learned that on the roof of La Vida Buena. I cup the back of her neck, keeping her sweet mouth against mine.
I seduce her with this kiss, working her into a frenzy with an expertise that has never failed me. Because I need her yes to stay a yes.
If she’s aware of me clutching her round ass and lifting her from the floor, she doesn’t show it. If she recognizes that I am carrying her to the couch in her office, she doesn’t protest. I lower her onto it, kissing her, teasing her with my tongue.
She umpfs when her butt hits the terracotta cushion, detaches from the kiss, then looks around.
“Take off your clothes, Yolanda,” I say, ready for the no, but surer now of the yes. Her eyes are glazed. Her lips kiss-swollen. Her chest heaving.
“You, too,” she says, sliding her hand over my hard-on before slipping off her shirt to reveal ripe breasts cupped in a sheer bra whose color I couldn’t tell you if you put a gun to my head. All I can see is the round swell of tan breast and the chocolate hue of a pert nipples.
She unclasps her bra and releases her breasts, lovely and full.
Swallowing, I push her back firmly, bend to her, and suck one taut nipple into my mouth while my hand teases and caresses the other.
She arches against me, reaches for my pants. “Please, Easton.”
I bite gently at her breast. She moans. “This is what you do to me,” I tell her, teasing her nipple. “Every time I see you walk, sway. Every time you smile at me. That unitard, that fucking dress, were exquisite torture. I want you to know just how you set me on fire.”
I tug her into my mouth, working her into a lust-filled haze.
“Sí. Eso es bueno,” she whispers in throaty approval.
Good. I want to ruin her for any man but me.
I tug harder, bite, claim her. She whimpers, and I groan around her luscious breast, before traveling to the other one. I suck it fiercely into my mouth.
A pained plea escapes her. “It’s too much.” Her hands crawl over me, pull at me. “I need you…” She tosses her head back as I swirl my tongue around her areola. “Ay. Díos…”
When I see her desperate hands snake between her own legs, I know she’s ready for me. I say, “Take off your pants.”
She pulls them down, arches her glistening center to me.
I am undone. I run my hand through the curls at her apex, trailing a finger along the sides of her labia, stroking the sensitive nerves there. Her hips rocket up. Thanks, physiology classes.
I slip a finger through her folds and into her plush, pink core. She drops her legs open wide. Her wet warmth soaks my palm. She is so ready. And, to be honest, this seduction has worked equal magic on me. As much as she wants me inside her, I am in a frenzy to take her.
I pump my fingers in and out of her softness while circling my thumb against her clit. When she gyrates against my hand, I add another finger and quicken my pace. She cries out, pumps her hips, then breaks apart. Her walls convulse around my fingers.
She’s so beautiful when she comes. Her mouth open in pleasure, her half-lidded gaze, her bouncing breasts. I nearly come myself. I ache for her.
When she’s at the end of her orgasm and still sensitive and oh-so-ready to come again, I tug down my shorts, rip open and slip on a condom from my wallet, and position myself between her legs.
There’s a dazed expression on her face as she stares up at me, pinning me with a look that reminds me of that long-ago moonlit night. I watch her, too, feeling her every unsaid emotion as I guide myself to her opening, then push inside.
We groan simultaneously in sheer relief and delight.
I slide every inch inside her until I am gloriously seated up to my balls.
My chest moves in deep, rapid breaths. She feels amazing. I savor the intense swell of pleasure, this thrumming connection, while taking the moment to wrestle an orgasm that wants to blast into me.
“You feel so good,” I say, pulling out slowly, so as not to set off the orgasm grenade that teeters like a threat. She lets out a pained moan that tries to lure my orgasm from where I’ve put it on hold. I focus on her, her dark eyes, the want in them, the wonder of her sharing herself with me.
I want everything she’s offering in those eyes. I move again, spearing into her in a way that I know will drive her wild.
The fierce shift has her eyes springing wide open. “Ay. Yes.” She moans, digging nails into my biceps.
I seize onto the quick rhythm. She tries to match my pace.
The hasty buck of her hips nearly has me blacking out from the surge of an orgasm ready to explode. I lean down and bite her earlobe, a sharp tug that stills her for a just a breath, long enough that I can focus on the taste of her between my lips. So good.
“I’m…” She pumps against me with erotic, fast-paced beats—taking it slow is not an option. “Yes. Yes. That…”
Her sleek softness tightens around my cock as her feet lock against my ass. I thrust faster, vigorously driving her over that breaking point while keeping the pin in my own orgasm. I ride the in-between space right before total bliss.
Holding myself there takes all my effort.
“Easton!” she screams, and I nibble again on her earlobe, tethering myself to her, giving her everything she needs while denying myself my own release.
Her walls pulse violently around me, encouraging me as much as the pained-pleasure cries falling from her lips with the devastating force of her climax.
Her strong, ecstatic pulses turn to tight spasms. She moans. She’s nearing the end of an orgasm that has me so hard I can barely think. As much as I want to follow her, I’m not done pleasuring her.
Reaching between us, I press my thumb against the super-sensitive nub at the apex of her opening. She is slick and swollen and reflexively drives against my hand.
It takes almost no pressure, just the quick and repeated roll of my thumb, to make her fall apart again. Her orgasm spills onto my fingers as her shout spills from her mouth.
I fucking lose it.
I slam into her with every bit of power I have, with every want that has been held back for far too long. The couch beneath us scrapes and rocks under the force of my desire.
I am lost in her. The orgasm crashes over me like a tsunami. I roar my release, hot and heavy in her ears, taking and taking all of her with a delight that borders on villainous.
And like a villain, I don’t feel a bit guilty.
Truth. I have never stopped wanting her. My titanic release and fierce growl are my declaration—she is where I belong.