Faith moaned, insensate with lust and longing. Her nails, short as they were, left crescents in his skin. “You’re so big… God, it’s so good…”
“Oh yeah,” he purred, watching her with slumberous eyes. “So damn good.”
He pumped deep and rotated his hips against her, stirring her into a frenzy with his rock-hard length. Her pussy rippled with delight and he growled, grabbing her hips and lifting them into his thrusts.
His measured tempo increased, his hips churning and swiveling, his rigid penis shafting her tender pussy with relentless drives. She caught the comforter in her fists, arching into his delicious pounding. Sobbing with pleasure, she spasmed around him, so close to coming again she could taste it.
“Ah, Faith,” he grated, holding still at the deepest point and grinding her onto him, working her hips in tight circles against his pelvis. He was shoved so deep, he was touching her cervix. His chest and abdomen sheened with sweat. “You’re making me come.”
Miguel cursed with the first wrenching spurt. Clenching his jaw, he threw his head back and climaxed violently. His fingers dug with bruising force into her hips, cramming her tight against him. She felt every jerk of his cock, every scorching pulse of semen. The ferocity of his pleasure and the primal way he ensured she took every drop pushed her over the edge with him.
A mist of sweat bloomed on her skin, the orgasm searing across her nerve endings and blackening her vision. Held rigid in the grip of mind-blowing pleasure, Faith cried out his name in a hoarse broken voice, her pussy milking him in tiny convulsions until he fell across her in a gasping blanket of hot beloved male.
Rubbing his sweat-slick forehead against the comforter, Miguel thrust his fingers into Faith’s long hair and groaned as her plush, wet pussy clenched in aftershocks around his spurting cock. The ecstasy sizzling down his spine kept him coming, his balls aching as he emptied them deep inside her.
“Oh god,” she breathed against his ear. “I can’t bear it.”
His teeth ground together until his jaw cramped. Without volition, his hips rocked into her, his body mindlessly seeking a way to crawl inside her. To possess her. The sex wasn’t at all the way he remembered it. He used to be able to get out of bed afterward and walk to the bathroom to dispose of the condom…
Ay Dios mio… Nuzzling his temple against hers, Miguel waited for the panic to strike and felt only a vicious primitive satisfaction. His cock was bathed in his cum and Faith’s. For the first time in his life he was balls-deep and bareback in a woman, and it was the one woman in the world he could ever imagine having children with. The girl who’d stolen his heart and never given it back. She took family seriously. If he knocked her up, she’d find a way to make it work between them. He could have her and the life he wanted. Ruthless, yes, but then he always was when he wanted something.
Whether she loved him or not… Well, love was a complication they’d be better off without. He could live with just this—her hot and luscious body in his bed, taking everything he could give her with unrestrained abandon. It was too easy to picture her in his penthouse in Manhattan, spread out on his gray silk sheets, sobbing his name as he fucked her with the nightscape of the city displayed thru the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the bed.
“Umm… Miguel.” Her hands slid over his damp back, her lips pressed against the sensitive spot just in front of his ear. “I did miss you.”
He caught one of her hands, then the other, dragging them over her head. With his knee, he nudged her leg over, widening the cradle of her thighs. He lifted his head and looked down at her, his aspirations for the result of this visit altering by the moment. His tongue traced the curve of his lower lip, his gaze sweeping over her face, taking in the dazed pleasure in her eyes and the cat-like smile of contentment. He rolled his hips just to feel how soaked she was.
She inhaled sharply. “You’re still hard.”
“Are you surprised, mi querida? I’ve missed you, too.”
He felt the sole of her shoe rub up and down his calf. A gruff sound of pleasure escaped him.
Looking up at him with the blue eyes that haunted him, she gave him a taunting smile and wriggled suggestively. “Take me, then, mi tesoro. I’m yours.”
No, you’re not, he thought as he withdrew slowly, only to thrust home hard and fast. Not yet. But you will be.
CHAPTER 3
Watching Faith shift gears in her classic Corvette was so arousing, Miguel’s dick stirred with appreciation even though he was presently wrung dry. That was why they’d left the bungalow, why they were driving to a sports bar with a late-night kitchen.
She made him feel like a teenager again, hopeful and vigorous. He’d had her in bed twice, then again in the shower. When she sat on the couch in a plush terrycloth robe with her hair hanging in wet tangles around her shoulders, he’d wanted her again. The domesticity that he avoided with other women had been an aphrodisiac with Faith. He’d sat on the couch beside her and pulled her over him, his head falling back into the cushions as she slid her slick, hot cunt onto him. They’d gone easy on each other the last time, neither of them in a rush. He could tell she was getting sore and guessed she’d been without a steady partner in a while.
Yet she’d come willingly to him when he asked.
The pleasure he could give her was a vulnerability he was prepared to exploit. He would do or say whatever was necessary to get her to come home with him. The world was at his fingertips. He could meet whatever demands she might make of him.
“You’re thinking hard,” she said, pulling deftly into the parking lot and claiming at space. “But at least you’re not scowling anymore.”
“I’m too relaxed to scowl.”
“Well, then, the food and a beer might put you to sleep.”
He climbed out of the passenger seat and looked over the roof to where she stood on the driver’s side. “Don’t count on it.”
“Promises, promises,” she teased.
He met her around the front, raking her with a head-to-toe glance. She’d lost her makeup and hairstyle in the shower, but he didn’t see her as any less stunning now. The dress was amazing for its simplicity, allowing the woman inside it to take center stage—a woman who was presently commando in public, which drove him insane every time he thought about it.
For the last dozen years he’d hungered for this, spending time with her, being teased by her, feeling wanted for something other than his money and power. His mother had warned him that Faith was a gold digger, and while it took one to know one, he’d never believed it. In fact, he’d come to wonder if his father’s money had actually been a sticking point between him and Faith. While she’d never said so aloud, Faith had grown noticeably uncomfortable whenever he talked about the things he wanted to buy her and the places he wanted to take her.
As they entered the sports bar with his hand at her lower back, he felt the same pride at being seen with her that he’d felt as a kid. She was beautiful, with a body built for sin, but she was also down to earth and self-effacing. She had a wicked sense of humor and a keen sense of fair play. He found it sexy as hell that she could diagnose and repair any car trouble, had minor plumbing skills, and could put together any home electronics system, regardless of how many cords and connections were required. His best friend in high school had said she would be the perfect girl if only she liked sports. Miguel knew she was perfect even without that interest.