I shake my head.
He grabs my chin with his fingers, holding my face in place. “Look at me,” he commands.
I open my eyes to see his tiger eyes boring into mine. I feel like prey. I feel like a tiger myself. I feel everything as he comes at me again, arching his hips up, his cock so thick and rigid, filling me to the brim. I can feel his ass flex against my legs as he pounds deeper and deeper with intense, animalistic thrusts.
“You’re everything I’ve ever needed,” he says through a lustful groan. He bites his lip, the corded muscles of his neck straining. “I was famished, starved for you. For this.”
Good god, this is too much. Being fucked against a window by this man, this man who seems so in control and yet absolutely undone by me.
“I want you starved for me,” he says, voice raspy and broken. His hand slips away from my face, down to my clit, and he presses his thumb there, rubbing with each thrust. “I want you to come for me,” he murmurs, kissing me quickly—hot, wet, and sweet, his tongue teasing the seam of my mouth. “I want you to come so hard, you’ll swear you’re falling. Again and again.” He groans, his eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck.”
Something changes in his pace, like a switch being flipped. He quickens, his hips like pistons, firing again and again, my whole body slamming against the glass until I’m calling his name without even knowing it.
In this moment, I fear nothing. Not my bare ass pressed against the window, not the glass breaking, not the fall. I don’t fear the unknown. I don’t fear anything because all I can do is chase my relief, down and down and down the spiral, desperate for it.
He is starved for me. I am starved for him.
And then it hits, generating from my core, spreading outward like a supernova, gaining speed in waves and waves and waves of stardust until it lets go, thundering in aftershocks. I’m babbling, holding him tight and letting go all at once. I stare into his eyes, I look away. I feel everything and feel nothing. I ride it out, muscles jerking, body shuddering in sharp waves.
I’m not sure I exist anywhere.
Then Vicente comes with hoarse grunts, his hips driving into me while every muscle in his body strains. With sated eyes I watch as he arches back, exposing his strong neck, his fingers gripping my hips so hard I think they might mark me forever.
Our chests rise and fall, and the room is filled with the sound of our ragged breathing.
Vicente looks at me. His dark hair clings to his forehead, the glisten of sweat lines his upper lip. His eyes have taken on a quality I haven’t seen in him until now.
Vulnerability.
I feel like I’m looking at a Vicente that’s rarely revealed.
Like he’s sharing the inner reaches of his soul with me and me alone.
His mouth quirks up in a lazy smile.
“My Violet,” he says softly, reaching up to brush the damp hair off my face. “That was a lovely appetizer.”
“Appetizer?” I can barely get out the words.
He murmurs, “Yes,” as he gently kisses me, slowly pulling out. “I’m only getting started.”
Grabbing my waist, he steps back from the window and carries me all the way to the bedroom where he throws me down onto the bed. I bounce with a little squeal before rolling over. My heart has barely had time to slow, my head is still swimming against the tide, unable to pull itself out of the post-orgasmic bliss.
I manage to take off my bra that’s somehow still on and prop myself up on my elbow, watching as he leaves the bedroom. His ass is firm, ripe like a fucking bronzed peach, and I can see why he was able to fuck me like a madman.
When he comes back, cock still long and swinging as he walks, I’m reduced to warm clay again.
He’s got the tie in his hands.
He stops at the foot of the bed and stares down at me.
“Raise your hands up, above your head,” he says with a quick nod.
I lie back, arms over my head, trying not to smile.
He comes over and I watch his face as he gently ties my hands together at the wrists. There’s a determined slant to his brow, the way they arch and come together, but at the same time there’s something so achingly gentle about it all, tying me up like he’s trying to soothe me.
This man is nothing short of a mystery to me. There are so many facets, so many sides, and I never know which one I’m going to get. The man in the other room just fucked me mercilessly against the glass for the whole city to see. The man in here has nothing but quiet movements, tying me up like he’s doing me a favor.
Maybe he is.
Honestly, I’ve only had vanilla sex before. I haven’t had anything except blow jobs, missionary. Occasionally a boyfriend went down on me, sometimes we did it doggy-style. That was it. We never played with sex toys or sex games. I don’t even have a vibrator (which Ginny makes fun of me relentlessly for since it’s like mandatory for every female in the city).
“Are you going to be good?” he whispers to me when he’s done, staring down at me, searching my face earnestly.
“What would be considered bad?”
He smirks at me. “You’re already questioning things. That’s off to a bad start. Perhaps I should restrain the rest of you.”
I raise my brows and glance at the corners of the four-poster bed. I have to wonder if it was by accident that he got a room with a bed like this.
My heart has started racing again. I’m getting wet at the thought of what lies ahead. Maybe I’m kinkier than I thought.