Chapter 40 #3
When he breaks our kiss, he speaks Spanish words in my ear. While I have no idea what he’s saying, the sound of his voice vibrates through my body, soothing and igniting at the same time.
I feel worshipped and adored by him. And how can that be true?
This is Alejandro Montoya. The man who bound me to him by blackmailing my father. A man who doesn’t do love.
But this is the man I am losing myself to, and I don’t know how to stop.
My orgasm builds in intensity as he kisses me deeper than before, his tongue swirling against mine like he’s trying to memorize every recess every mouth.
He keeps me teetering on the edge of oblivion for what feels like an eternity, maintaining his steady pace and rubbing against that place inside me that makes every cell in my body tremble.
Tears roll down my cheeks as my body takes everything he can give it. This is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. If there’s a heaven, then surely this is it.
I wrench my lips from his when my orgasm bursts through me like a river breaching a dam.
I gasp for air. There’s an outpouring of warmth, and the most intense orgasm of my life rushes out of me, soaking the two of us and the bed sheets.
I go on desperately trying to take in oxygen as my entire body shakes and my head spins.
What the hell just happened? There was so much …
“Fuck, Alana.” Alejandro hisses through gritted teeth, and for a second, I’m worried something went wrong. “As if I don’t spend enough of my time fucking you or thinking about fucking you. Now I find out you’re a squirter. Jesus Christ, you’re going to be the fucking death of me.”
“Is that good?”
“Good? It’s fucking incredible.” He picks up his pace, the filthy wet sounds of him driving into me reverberating around the bedroom.
It takes only a few more thrusts before he growls and curses in Spanish.
His hips still and he grinds out every drop of his release into me.
I have no idea how I haven’t fallen pregnant with all the unprotected sex we’re having.
I push that away and focus on the sight of him coming apart for me, his eyes rolling back in his head and his mouth open in ecstasy.
He’s lost control, and I love that I can do that to him.
As we lie together in the aftermath, catching our breaths, Alejandro drapes one of his heavy arms over me and pulls me closer. He nuzzles my neck, and I run my hand through his thick, dark hair, curling a lock of it around the tip of my index finger.
“So, fucking my girl nice and slow makes her squirt?” he says with a sigh. “Does this mean I’m going to have to change the way I fuck you?”
“No, I love the other way too.”
He groans and sinks his teeth into my neck, and I throw my head back to give him easier access. “I’m going to fuck you every single way there is, don’t worry.” He lifts his head and his eyes lock on mine. “How the hell did you end up with a monster like me, Alana?”
“You stole me, remember?” I say, smiling.
“Hmm. And I’m never giving you back.”
“Good. I don’t want to go back.” I say it in a whisper, afraid of what those words mean. It’s the first time I’ve admitted it aloud.
I don’t know what flashes through his eyes, but it looks like a mixture of pain and sadness, and I wonder if I can take back my words.
“Eres todo para mí,” he murmurs. He’s said that to me one other time, but before I can ask what it means, he silences me with one of his deep, breathtaking kisses.
Alejandro has left early for work by the time I wake. When I look at the empty space in the bed beside me, I feel an ache for his presence that I can no longer deny. Yesterday was incredible, and I’m not sure that any of my defenses against the king of LA are still intact.
After I shower and dress, I find Magda in the kitchen, taking a fresh batch of pastries out of the oven. “Magda, your cooking is going to make me fat.” I take a deep breath, inhaling the delicious scent.
“Dulce nina, you will never get fat. Magda will not let you,” she says with a wag of her finger.
Laughing, I help myself to a cup of coffee. Magda is sixty-three years old and fit as a fiddle.
But her Spanish makes me remember what Alejandro said last night. “Hey, Magda, can you tell me what eres todo para mí, means?”
She turns from the stove, her whole face softening in a smile. I often ask her to translate snippets of Spanish conversation that I hear around the house. Eventually, I’ll learn the language. I keep meaning to enroll myself in a class, and I make a mental note to do that soon.
“It means you are everything to me.”
My heart leaps into my throat. What? I must have said it incorrectly … But I’m certain I got it right. “You’re sure?”
She tuts at me. Of course she’s sure.
That means Alejandro told me I am everything to him. He must have been caught up in the moment. But he said it at the hotel, too, when I was upset after what those women said about me.
Magda pats my arm, and I realize I’m beaming. I can’t help it. I’m in love Alejandro Montoya, and I am everything to him.