Chapter 21 – Analyse #2
He lifts me in a single motion and pins me against the wall. My breath punches out of me as my legs wrap around his waist. His body presses into mine, heat radiating through fabric. Every muscle in him is taut, a coil drawn so tight.
He’s kissing me like a man lost in the desert who just found a spring—hungry, reverent, wild.
My hands skim his jaw, his neck, the slope of his shoulders, memorizing every inch with frantic devotion.
He pauses only when we’re both gasping, our foreheads pressed together, breath coming in hard, ragged waves.
My heart hammers against his chest. He looks at me, eyes dark and dilated, trembling with the restraint it takes not to devour me whole.
His lips press into the hollow of my throat, hot puffs of breath branding the skin just below my ear.
“You don’t understand, chula,” he says, voice rough.
“I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. For so damn long.
” He pauses, the silence full of promise.
“And now that I have you,” he growls, dragging his mouth along my jaw, “I’m not going to rush.
I’m going to savor every goddamn second. I’m going to take my time.”
The words melt straight down my spine. Every cell in my body vibrates with anticipation.
I clutch his shoulders, desperate to keep him anchored to me.
His hands span the flare of my hip, his thumbs stroking slow, hypnotic circles that make my vision blur.
His mouth finds the pulse beneath my ear and lingers for a breath.
His fingers curl around the thin straps of my dress and drag them slowly down my shoulders. The fabric slips away, exposing skin to the cool air. I shiver, not from cold, but from the intensity in his eyes.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, voice thick with want.
His palms cup the weight of my breasts, thumbs brushing over my hardened nipples in a way that makes my head fall back against the wall. I arch into his touch. The calluses on his hands create a delicious friction against my skin.
He lowers his head, replacing one hand with his mouth.
The first touch of his tongue sends electricity shooting through me.
I cry out, fingers tightening in his hair.
He sucks gently, then harder, a low hum vibrating through his lips.
My knees threaten to give out, but he has me caged in, his mouth relentless.
Every flick of his tongue is a jolt straight through my core.
I arch, clutching him harder. When he closes his lips around my nipple, a raw, involuntary cry escapes me.
“Mateo,” I gasp.
He pulls back just enough to blow cool air across the dampened skin, then moves to the other breast, lavishing it with the same devastating attention. His teeth scrape lightly, a gentle bite, and my body bows in response. My head thuds against the wall. Every muscle in me is wound tight.
I can’t catch my breath. I can’t think. The only thing I can do is feel. And he’s making me feel so damn good. He teases and tastes, alternating between soft and rough, gentle and greedy, until I’m trembling.
His hands slide down, tracing the curve of my spine.
My dress is bunched around my hips. His fingers span the backs of my thighs, squeezing, kneading, dragging me closer to the hard line of his body.
He rocks his hips forward, the ridge of him pressing against my pussy through our clothes. A strangled sound escapes me.
“Is this what you want?” he rasps, sliding a hand down to cup my ass, fingers digging in possessively. The sensation makes me arch, a moan slipping free.
“God, yes,” I breathe, head falling back. “Please.”
His mouth curves into a wicked smile against my collarbone. “Please what?” He rolls his hips again, more deliberately this time. The friction sends sparks through me.
“Don’t stop,” I pant, nails scraping down his back. “More, please.” My legs tighten around his waist.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he groans.
He squeezes my ass, using his grip to pull me tighter as he continues to rock against me. The delicious pressure builds. My thighs tremble. His hands slide between us, fingers dipping beneath the lace of my panties. The fabric is soaked.
“You’re so wet for me,” he whispers, voice rough. His fingers explore, circling and teasing until my hips buck against his touch.
He withdraws slowly, eyes locked on mine as he brings his glistening finger to his lips. My breath catches as he slides it into his mouth. “You taste better than I could’ve imagined,” he groans. “So sweet. So perfect.”
I whimper as he presses against me again, the friction maddening. “Please, Mateo,” I breathe, rolling my hips. “I need more.”
“Tell me what you want, chula,” he says, gripping my waist as he rocks against me harder. The pressure builds with each thrust.
“Fuck,” I choke out. “I’m going to come,” I gasp, body trembling. “Mateo, I’m—”
The world dissolves into a broken cry as pleasure crashes through me in violent waves. My body arches, every nerve igniting. My vision blurs as I shatter completely against him.
“That’s it,” he growls, tightening his grip. “Let go for me.”
I’m helpless to do anything else. My body convulses, sensations rippling through me. When I finally come back to myself, I’m panting, still quivering.
Mateo eases back, eyes dark with hunger. He carefully sets me down. My legs wobble. “Dress and panties off. Heels stay on.”
The commanding tone sends a fresh thrill through me.
“You like that, chula? Like when I tell you what to do?”
“Fuck, yes,” I admit. “I love when you take control.”
I unzip my dress and let it fall. My panties follow. The cool air hits my skin, but it’s his gaze that makes me shiver.
“You’re fucking perfect, Analyse. A goddamn goddess.”
“Your turn. Everything off. Now.”
His brows lift, but a slow smile spreads across his face. He strips quickly, and when I see him, all of him, I go still. Holy fuck. He’s huge. Thick. Long. My thighs clench at the thought of him inside me.
“See something you like?” he rumbles.
I swallow. “More than like.”
“Touch me.”
My hand wraps around him. Velvet over steel, hot and pulsating in the palm of my hand. He groans as I squeeze.
“Just like that,” he encourages, eyes hooded, dark with desire. “God, your hands are perfect.”
I stroke him slowly, watching his face as pleasure washes over his features. His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking with restraint. It thrills me to see him fighting for control, to know that my touch affects him just as deeply as he affects me.
“I want to taste you,” I whisper.
His eyes flash. “Are you sure?”
Instead of answering, I sink to my knees. The hardwood floor is unforgiving against my skin, but I barely notice the discomfort. All I can focus on is him. His scent, his heat. The way his breathing has turned ragged and shallow as he watches me with those dark, hungry eyes.
I take him in my hand again, feeling the weight of him, the silky smooth skin stretched taut over hardness. My lips part, and I flick my tongue out to taste the bead of moisture at his tip. The salty-sweet flavor makes me moan.
“Fuck,” he hisses, one hand coming down to cup my face, thumb tracing my bottom lip. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
I look up at him through my lashes, maintaining eye contact as I take him into my mouth. His fingers tangle in my hair, gripping tight, a raw desperate need in his touch. I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, savoring the way his breath catches when I swirl my tongue around him.
“Dios mio,” he groans, his accent thick as he struggles to maintain control. “Just like that, baby. Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
I moan around him, the vibration making his hips jerk forward involuntarily. My hands grip his thighs, feeling the muscles bunch beneath my palms as I work him with my mouth. I pull back to lick along his length, then take him deep again, finding a rhythm that has him panting above me.
“Stop,” he says suddenly, his voice strained. “I need to be inside you.”
I release him with a soft pop, my lips swollen and slick. He helps me to my feet, his hands steady on my arms, and I find my balance on the heels.
“Bedroom,” he says, but I shake my head.
“Here. I don’t want to wait.”
His eyes darken further. “Turn around. Hands on the wall.”
I turn slowly, my pulse hammering as I place my palms flat against the cool surface. The anticipation is electric, making every nerve ending sing. I can feel him behind me, the heat of his body so close but not quite touching.
I hear the rustle of his pocket, the sound of foil crinkling between his fingers. I glance over my shoulder, watching as he prepares to tear open the condom.
“Wait,” I whisper, my voice husky. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
His movements pause, eyes meeting mine with a question burning in them.
“I have an IUD,” I assure him, my breath catching as his hand slides up my spine.
His breath catches. “Are you sure?”
I nod, my eyes never leaving his. “I don’t want anything between us. I want to feel every inch of you. Please.”
A groan escapes him, primal and raw. The foil packet disappears back into his pocket as he steps closer, his chest pressing against my back, lips grazing my ear.
“Spread your legs,” he commands, his voice a rough whisper that sends shivers cascading down my spine.
I comply, widening my stance, the heels clicking against the hardwood. His hands skim down my sides before gripping my hips. I arch my back, pressing against him, desperate for contact.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “So damn beautiful. Spread wide for me. So perfect for me.”