Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eva
His green eyes are the first thing I see when I finally blink back to earth.
My chest rises and falls fast, my body still trembling, my brain trying to catch up with everything that just happened.
I don’t know what to say, I don’t even know how to say anything.
Esteban just gave me the best orgasm of my life, and now he’s staring at me like I hung the stars.
How can this man be so amazing?
He made me feel sexy, wanted, beautiful. Like I was the only woman he’d ever touched. And his mouth… God, his mouth is going to be my undoing. He said things to me in Spanish, low, filthy, addictive things, that made me melt in his hands.
I tilt my head on the pillow to look at him. “What does puneta mean?”
Brushing a knuckle down my cheek, he grins. “It has a lot of meanings, but when I said it… I meant ‘fuck.’ Sorry, mi amor, I got carried away. You’re just…” His voice trails off as he shakes his head, like he can’t find the words. “You made me lose control.”
I laugh softly, feeling that lazy afterglow still buzzing through me. “Don’t apologize. I loved it. I loved everything. The way you talked to me. The way you held my neck…”
His eyes flick down to my throat instantly. “Did I hurt you?” he asks, already leaning in to look closer.
I shake my head. “I’m fine. Better than fine.”
He presses gentle kisses along my neck, making me shiver. “Good. Because I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you,” he murmurs against my skin.
I close my eyes for a beat, trying to hold on to this feeling.
Pulling back, he stands from the bed and I watch him walk toward the bathroom, every muscle in his back flexing with each step.
A moment later, he returns and reaches out for me. “Come on,” he says with a smile, his fingers curling around mine. “Let’s take a quick shower so we can go to bed.”
And just like that, I’m up, letting him lead me, still wrapped in the high of what we just shared.
Once in the bathroom, Esteban turns on the water and waits for it to get warm. He then walks me to the shower, and I enter.
The hot water feels like magic as it cascades down my body, soothing the ache in my muscles and amplifying the sweet buzz still pulsing through my veins. I twist my hair into a messy bun and tilt my face toward the stream, letting it wash away everything except the memory of his hands on me.
I don’t have to wait long. Esteban steps in behind me, his presence a warm, solid weight I already crave more than I want to admit. He presses a kiss to my shoulder before reaching for the shower gel, and when he starts lathering it on my skin, I swear I forget how to breathe.
His hands move slowly, deliberately, from my neck to my collarbones, over the curve of my breasts, down my waist, hips, and thighs.
He’s not just cleaning me, he’s memorizing me.
Worshipping me like I’m something sacred.
It’s gentle and reverent, but there’s tension in every stroke of his palms. Like he’s holding back.
When he leans in to kiss my neck, I feel the unmistakable press of him against my back.
“You’re ready again?” I tease, a smirk tugging at my lips. “I thought old men like you needed some time to recover after sex.”
His chuckle is low in my ear, and he nips at the lobe just hard enough to make me gasp.
“I don’t need much time,” he murmurs, voice thick with heat. “But can you blame me? Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” His hands glide back up to my waist, holding me against him. “You’re perfect, mi amor. And more importantly… you’re mine.”
That last part—you’re mine—makes something flutter deep in my chest.
I glance over my shoulder and smile, but before I can answer, he leans down and kisses me. It’s slow, unhurried, and so addictive it makes my knees weak. Every part of me is already melting into him, but then he turns me around and gently presses my back against the cold tile wall.
I gasp at the temperature, laughing as the chill jolts me.
He laughs too, forehead against mine, breath mingling with mine in the steamy air. Then he kisses me again. And this time, there’s no teasing.
Only heat. Only him. Only us.
He grabs a condom that I don’t even know when he grabbed. But I’m so glad that he did. His hands find my waist and with ease he pulls me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist.
Then he enters me in one swift move while he holds my weight against the shower wall.
This time he fucks me hard. His thrust are fast as he kiss my neck.
Water cascades down his back and I savor the feeling of him.
I gasp as I feel that he touches a spot that make me see starts.
“Oh fuck,” I cry, not expecting to be this turned on.
He caresses my face and pulls back to look into my eyes. “You okay?”
“Perfect,” I say.
“Good.” He grips my hips and digs his fingers into my ass as he leisurely pumps into me.
He leans over my ear and whispers, “You like being fucked by me?” I nod my head, unable to talk at the moment.
The pleasure is too blinding as he slams in hard, then pulls out slow.
He keeps this pace for a few more thrust. “I want to make sure that this pussy will never see another man’s cock.
I will ruin it so bad that you won’t want anyone else but me. ”
Little does he know, I’m already worthless for other men.
Esteban pounds into me over and over again, making me so full that I can’t do anything other than feel his cock slide in and out of me. It feels so good that I feel every nerve ending in my body is shot, racing to the end goal. Then the feeling of sweet bliss surges through me.
“Yes,” I moan.
He thrust so hard that my head hits the shower wall hard.
I don’t even care. I keep moaning his name.
Going crazy with every grunt and every dirty word that comes from his mouth.
Then I’m tipping over the edge, convulsing around him while he keeps fucking me hard.
My vision goes black for a second before I’m limp against the wall.
When he pulls out of me, I stare at him, watching as he takes the condom of his hard cock and then starts pumping it.
“Look how hard you get me. I can’t control myself around you,” he says as he keeps pumping and staring at me.
I’m reaching to grab his cock and help him, but he shakes his head no.
I stare at him, enjoying watching him pleasure himself.
He’s close, I can see it in his posture, in his tense muscles, in the veins rippling in his neck.
“Fuck,” he whispers, and I go to my knees, open my mouth letting him know that I want his cum in my mouth.
He says words in Spanish that I can’t understand but I’m pretty sure that are profanities, and a second later his cum spills into my mouth and down my neck.
This is the most delicious and thrilling thing that’s ever happened to me.
I feel like a queen watching him come undone like this in a matter of seconds.
Then we stare at each other. Me on my knees in front of him, covered in his cum while he pants and stares in wonder.
“Eva, that was fucking hot. I was not expecting you to go down on your knees,” he says as he smears his cum over my neck. When he brings his finger to my mouth, I open up and suck. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Good,” I say as he holds his hands out to help me get up.
“I just made a mess out of you,” he says, chuckling. “Now, I have to clean you again.
The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room.
I stretch beneath the covers, immediately wincing at the dull ache between my thighs.
Damn. I smile to myself, remembering every kiss, every word, every way he made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.
But the bed is empty.
I sit up slowly, scanning the room. No sign of Esteban. I glance toward the bathroom, but the door’s open and the light is off. Where did he go?
I groan as I slip out of bed, every muscle reminding me exactly what last night was like. My feet pad softly across the floor as I make my way to the bathroom, freshen up, and tie my hair back. When I return to the room, I grab my phone from the nightstand.
It’s only eight.
I scroll through a few notifications—emails, comments, some DMs. And there it is again. A message from an unknown number.
Unknown: We need to talk, Eva. Please. Just give me five minutes. You owe me that much.
My stomach tightens, but I don’t respond.
Just like the last one. And the one before that.
He’s been messaging me every week since I left, like some part of him still thinks I’ll go back.
That I’ll answer. Something that I have no interest to do now or in the future.
He has been using fake profiles and now a new number to text. When will he stop?
The door opens gently as Esteban steps in, already dressed in a clean t-shirt and jeans, hair still damp, looking like he walked straight out of a daydream. In his hands is a plate filled with scrambled eggs and bacon, and a steaming cup of coffee.
“Buenos días,” he says, voice warm and low. “I brought you breakfast.”
My heart does something ridiculous.
He sets the plate down on the nightstand beside me, then leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips—sweet, tender, nothing like last night, but somehow just as powerful.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks, brushing a knuckle down my cheek.
I nod, smiling up at him. “Yeah. More than okay.”
I pick up the fork and start eating, humming in appreciation after the first bite. “Mmm. This is so good. What about the others?”
“They’re downstairs, already having breakfast.” He sits on the edge of the bed, watching me with those green eyes that still make me feel a little weak. “I figured I’d let you rest a bit. We’re leaving for the airport soon.”
I pause, the fork halfway to my mouth. “Right. Back to reality.”
He smiles, soft and unreadable, and for a moment I wonder what he’s thinking. But he doesn’t say anything else.
So I eat and try not to fall harder for the man who just brought me breakfast in bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.