My world went from darkness to golden brown eyes. His gaze is so direct, so abrupt, so penetrating.
It’s a vibrating line between the two of us.
Connecting, tightening.
Waiting.
Then the look in his eyes smolders, drunk with desire, and he grabs my face with one hand, the other hand going behind my neck, and he’s kissing me.
Hungrily.
I can barely react. I’m overwhelmed by his mouth, by the feeling of him, his warmth, his need.
If I was already standing it would be knocking me off my feet. His tongue is insatiable, explicit as it thrusts into my mouth ravenously, his lips crazed and needy. It’s wet and violent and makes me throb, hot and desperate. His hand at my head is gripping my hair as if he’s holding on for dear life, and each tug shoots fire through my nerves. Every part of my being feels alive, soaking it all in, desperate for more of his touch, more of him, more of everything.
I’m so fucking starved for him.
For this.
All of this.
He pulls back half an inch, just for a second, just enough time to let out a moan while his other hand holds my face in place, captive. His heavy-lidded gaze fixates on my eyes, then my lips, as if I’m some sort of apparition.
I grab his collar and yank his lips back to mine. The need in me builds and builds. I’m dying to wrap my legs around him, to feel every inch, to feel his want for me. I think I whimper. I gasp. I kiss him with the same kind of abandon as he’s kissing me, his mouth all-encompassing as if wanting to swallow me whole.
I need him inside me. I’m aching, dying for it.
He knows this. He rips his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the ground then starting to undo his jeans, pulling a condom out of his pocket.
I try not to stare but I’m staring, watching with wide eyes and shaky breaths as his jeans fall to his ankles and he’s wearing just his boxer briefs.
Jesus.
His body is un-fucking-real.
His skin glows, tanned from top to bottom, like he’s dipped in gold, his every muscle from his thick and toned thighs, to his rippling six-pack abs and the sharp cut of his hip muscles, stands out. He looks carved by a famous artist, every single inch of his body molded to perfection.
And while my eyes roam over his wide, smooth chest, the rounded strength of his shoulders and the bulk of his biceps, they can’t help but focus on his package. I couldn’t tear them away even if I tried.
His boxer briefs are small, on the tight side, and red. The thin cotton material shows every single vein and the hard line of his cock as it bulges out of them, ready to burst the flimsy seams.
If I thought his fingers were too much, I’m going to have to re-evaluate things because Vicente looks like he’s smuggled a python into his underwear for safekeeping.
“I guess it’s only fair,” he says, his voice rough and low. I manage to look up at him, at the smug expression on his face. “I got to memorize your body with my eyes. You should be able to do the same.”
He slowly shifts his briefs down over his hips until his cock springs loose, dark and formidable in his palm. He strokes it from length to tip, staring at me with such heat that I feel I might burst into flames on the spot. The condom is rolled on expertly, shiny and stretched.
Then he’s at me again, like a viper. He bites at my neck until I’m moaning his name and then he’s picking me up off the chair, as if my legs aren’t heavy with muscle, as if I weigh nothing at all.
I’m spun around, picked up, and my back is now against the glass window.
I gasp in fright, the cold pane of glass pressing into my back, while my legs wrap around his waist and my nails dig into his shoulders, holding on for dear life.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my neck.
But I can’t breathe. The fear is unreal. I might go through the window at any moment. My lungs are tensing, waiting.
“Breathe,” he tells me, pulling back to kiss me softly, tugging at my lower lip with his teeth. “I said I’ve got you. The glass will hold.”
And if it doesn’t? We’re twenty floors up, more so because of the angle of the hill we’re on. I’m starting to shake. I can just imagine the fall.
Down.
Down.
Down.
I gasp, trying to get air.
“Violet,” he says softly but sternly as he reaches down, priming his cock against me. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me. Just me.”
And yet that’s somehow more terrifying.
The moment he pushes into me though, it doesn’t matter.
I cry out sharply, my eyes pinching shut as he enters. Everything inside me tightens, a closing fist. I’m pressed so hard against the glass, I’m afraid it will shatter, that I’ll shatter.
Vicente groans, the sound making me even more wet than I already am, his lips brushing against mine. “That’s it, so perfect, so sweet. Just breathe.”
I try. I gulp for air and dig my heels into him, holding on tight as he slowly pushes deeper and deeper inside. My hands grab the back of his neck, feeling the strength in his straining muscles. He kisses the length of my throat and moans into me as his hands pull my breasts out of my bra cups and his cock thrusts in.
“You’re so sweet,” he whispers hoarsely. “So good. So fucking good.” He pulls out slightly and drives back inside, pushing me harder against the glass until I start to melt. My dancing heart leaves the fear behind. The pleasure starts to take over, a wash of warmth all over my body, making my skin feel tight and hot.
“You know how you feel to me?” he whispers.