Chapter Eighteen
Graham
“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Graham?”
“Jesucristo…” I whisper, breathless as she looms over me, knees planted on either side of my chest. “Sí, mi reina. I’ll be so fucking good for you.” My fingers tighten around her hips. “Por favor, mamí, let me be good for you.”
She runs her fingers deep into my hair as she lifts her hips, scooting forward until her wet heat hovers inches from my face. “So eager, you’re behaving so well now,” she coos. “Make me come and I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”
Honestly, I could just do this forever and die a happy man. Eating Naomi’s pussy is a religious experience, purely existential, and more than once I’ve finished just from feeling her quiver on my tongue.
She surprised me today by showing up at my door with a bottle of vodka already chilled and no panties.
Apparently Clara was out with Rowan and Poppy was of course busy with Elias, so I was her next option for her Sunday morning.
It’s an honor I take very seriously. Two shots later I had her undressed, riding my fingers.
She’d forced me onto the bed and threatened to suffocate me with her pussy if I didn’t stop whispering nasty things in her ear.
I, of course, did not, because I’m a fucking brat and there is only one way I want to die.
“Come on, mamí,” tilt my chin up, trying to draw her in with my tongue. “Take a seat.”
Naomi plants her knees on either side of my head, gripping my hair a little tighter. “I love it when you beg me,” she moans.
I love you, I think only just stopping myself from saying it out loud.
That would certainly end this amazing day and likely this entire affair.
And I’m not ready for this to end, if I have to keep my feelings bottled inside for the rest of my life I will so long as she continues letting me go bananas on her any chance we get.
I desperately start trying to pull her hips down until a sharp thwack makes me curse.
I forgot about the riding crop. That had been a very interesting thing to see her pull out of her purse.
Apparently it wasn’t new either, she used to ride show and had the full ensemble- crops included- stashed away in her dad’s garage.
We haven’t officially gone over our hard limits yet- really bad form on our part- but I think the drooling told her enough about my…
Inclinations. After all, it’s not like she hasn’t spanked me before, her hand is just not as effective.
This crop, however, works very well. Exactly what I need out of her today.
I was pacing around my apartment like a rabid racoon before she showed up, a literal goddess here to focus my brain and end my misery.
Love of my life don’t ever leave me.
Dragging the leather strap of the crop up my abs she smirks.
“Patience is a virtue, pretty boy,” she reminds me.
I shiver when she brings the crop between us, using it to tilt my head back into the position she desires.
My breathing is ragged, chest heaving, but I don’t move an inch that she doesn’t command.
“There we go. You listen so well with the right motivation.”
My cock twitches at her praise, rigid and leaking like a faucet onto my stomach. If she were to lean back and just graze me right now I’d go off like a canon. And she knows it. This woman knows exactly what she does to me with her words alone.
Slowly, too fucking slowly, she lowers her hips until I can finally swipe my tongue through her center. The groan that rumbles from my chest is primal, the moan she echoes back pure sin.
I can’t take it anymore. She can beat me black and blue, I don’t give a shit. I dig my fingers into her hips and firmly yank her down until she is fully seated on my face. She throws her head back on a shocked cry when I plunge my tongue inside her, feasting on her core like it’s my last meal.
“Graham—” She gasps, tugging at my hair. “Fuck, you’re so- AH!”
I fuck her deep with my tongue, pulling out to circle her clit with powerful strokes that have her already quivering.
This might be the fastest I make her come.
Maybe I’ll do it twice, I haven’t quite decided.
I do know that if she doesn’t stop moaning like that I’m going to blow my load all over her back.
She’s grinding her hips against my face, chasing the strokes of my tongue and I help her along, wanting nothing more than for her to find the pace that makes her shatter instantly.
Her hand spasms, the crop falling to the bed, allowing her to place a hand against the wall when her legs fail to hold her up any longer.
“Fuck, Graham—” She gasps. “I’m gonna- I’m—”
Come for, mamí. Come on—
She screams, slamming her hand against the wall and I mentally apologize to my neighbors for the noise.
I have no doubt I’ll be the reason a polite please be considerate email is sent by the office tomorrow.
But I don’t give a fuck because Naomi comes so hard on my tongue she nearly rips the hair from my head.
She’s still wrecked from it, quivering and gasping, when I flip her onto her back, lining my cock up with her dripping entrance. She has the nerve to glare at me when she says, “This is not being patient- Fuck!” Her head falls back when I slide inside her in one hard thrust.
“Punish me later, mi reina,” I growl. “Do your worst. Va a valer la pena- Verga, mujer—”
I’m losing control of my English being inside her. I was already on the verge of coming just tasting her, but being inside her is like nothing else in the world.
“I’m not going to last long, mi reina,” I growl. “Etes perfectamente arrecha.”
She’s screaming too loud to even make sense of the obscenities I start muttering in her ear.
“This pussy was made for me. You were made for me. Going to make you come so hard you see stars.” Not that she could understand a word anyway, because even with my brain scattered to the winds I know not a lick of it is in English.
“Graham!”
She cries out my name, her nails clawing into my back deep enough to leave scars- I hope they leave scars- as she shatters under me. And like an animal I growl as I follow her over the edge, spilling deep inside her where I fucking belong. She’s mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
“You’re a fucking treasure,” I breathe into her ear. “I think I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you…”
She goes rigid beneath me and I curse. Fuck, did I say that in English? I can hardly think straight. I’m still seeing stars. It wouldn’t surprise me if I slipped and finally admitted to her that I fucking love her with my every breath.
“What…” Her voice trembles.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, raising up on my hands. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to quickly clear my head. “I didn’t mean to say that. Just forget I said anything—”
“Graham,” she snaps and I blink my eyes open to find her glaring at me suspiciously. “Did you just…. Was that fucking Russian?!”
Oh. “Well…” I sigh, bowing my head. “Fuck…”
???
"You speak Russian.”
I don’t answer her as I pour myself two fingers of vodka into a chilled short glass. I holed up the bottle in question. “Yes,” she says, then as I pour her drink. “You never said you spoke Russian.”
“You never asked.” I walk her drink over to her on the bed, leaning against the headboard at her side.
She watches me take a sip, mirroring my actions. “How long?” She asks.
With a shrug, I raise the glass to my lips again. “My whole life.”
“Do Rowan and Elias know?”
“Of course.”
When I don’t elaborate, she blinks, leaning in. “Well?” She demands. “What’s the story?”
I sigh, “It’s not much of a story.” More like a nightmare I choose not to revisit.
But she’s looking at me with so much childlike curiosity I can’t help but indulge.
“Russian is my first language. Spanish is my second.” I avert my gaze to my drink.
“I also speak Portuguese, Italian, and of course, English.”
Naomi blinks at me rapidly before shrieking, “WHAT?!” She nearly spills her drink on the sheets.
“Where did you learn so many languages?! Why did you learn so many languages?! Oh my god!” She’s standing in an instant.
“Are you a spy, Graham Rosales?! I swear if you’re using me to get government secrets—”
“I’m not a spy and I don’t give a fuck about the government, calm the fuck down.”
With a roll of my eyes, I take another sip of vodka, patting the bed. She still looks at me skeptically. “Dios mío, Naomi, I’m not a fucking spy.” She’s nearly sitting again when I admit, “I was a drug dealer in New York.”
Once again she is up and screaming. “WHAT THE FUCK, GRAHAM?!”
“I can explain,” I assure her. “Starting with that I am not one anymore. I’ve been out of that life for over twenty years.”
“How did you get out?!” She asks, her eyes narrowed. “Why did you get out- No! Why did you start in the first place—"
“If you sit down,” I insist, patting the bed again. “I will tell you.”
There’s still a hesitation in her movements as she comes back to bed, very slowly sitting. I hold out an arm, welcoming her to lean against me. A moment’s hesitation and then she does, holding her drink close to her chest over the covers.
“Talk,” she orders me in that voice that makes my cock twitch back to life.
But I force my lust aside before she can notice, clearing my throat.
“My grandfather was a Russian drug dealer,” I explain.
“I think for the mafia? I was never brave enough to ask.
If he was, he was nowhere near important enough to matter, probably just important enough that he knew too much so he was paid relatively well for his silence and cooperation.