Page 74 of Miguel
I whimpered.
The word was too raw. A single word dripped in so many emotions, and I could barely decipher them all.
He inserted a second finger, scissoring inside me.
“Please,” he repeated. A third finger joined the first two, causing a delicious friction as they moved against my walls. Still I wanted more, and my mouth whimpered, though I tried to choke back the sound.
Miguel smiled knowingly and my silence was rewarded with his thumb against my clit. The hard pressure of his digit against that little nub had me reeling. I swore my eyes rolled to the back of my head.
“Please, nena.” His voice was sweet, reverent. “I need you to be mine like I need air to fucking breathe. Please.” His thumb flicked across my clit with every whispered word. “Please.”
I gasped at the feel of ecstasy shooting through me. I mewled when his free hand slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, sliding over the smooth rolls of my stomach. He reached the underwire of my bra, made his way to the cup before yanking it down and freeing my breast.
His fingers tweaked my nipple, twisting. His touch was soft at first, incrementing in pressure until he twisted in an almost painful way. A way that surprised me because complete euphoria washed over me. The pain and the pleasure of his touch mingled, mixed with the sensation of his fingers diving in and out of me at that leisurely pace. The thrumming of his thumb on my clit was fast and desperate, his fingers steady and slow, and the way he teased my nipples, brutal and efficient? The contradiction of sensations sent me spiraling into orgasm almost immediately.
My hips thrust into the movement of his hand, and he squeezed tightly to my breast as I crested and fell apart. Even as I came down from my orgasm, as my body stopped shuddering and the aftershocks slid through my system, Miguel only tortured me more.
I couldn’t handle it; the sensitivity against my clit was almost a painful thing. My hips tried to move away, but I was well and truly trapped. And he knew it.
“Where are you going, nena?” His fingers slipped from my heat. I watched as he spread my lips wide with two fingers. “We’re just getting started.” And he spit.
Right. On. My. Pussy.
I tossed my head back against the couch. “Fuuuuuck.”
He chuckled darkly right before he speared me with his fingers once again. “Take your shirt off,” he ordered.
The tone brokered no room for argument. Not that I would have argued anyway. I couldn’t find it in me to go against his wishes when we both wanted the same things. With trembling fingers, I did as he bade, tossing my shirt off to the side. The eagerness in which I did it almost made me forget he was supposed to be begging me. That I was supposed to make him work to convince me.
“Your bra.”
His growl swept through my entire system. I reached behind my back, unsnapping the hooks and tearing the offending material off. I moaned the whole while, his fingers working hard against me.
“Fucking perfection.”
My eyes snapped open, catching Miguel’s gaze. He’d paused his ministrations to look down at my body. Every freckle, every inch of skin, every stretch mark and imperfection was bare before him. And he stared down at me with heat in his gaze, like he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
“I’ll worship every fucking inch of you.” He curled his fingers inside me, hitting me just right. I cried out, hands flailing and searching for purchase. My skin felt too sensitive, my body too tight, and his torture never eased. He made good on his promise, crowding me against the couch, looming over me with that dark and dangerous gaze while he finger-fucked me until I was writhing and twisting beneath him.
“Miguel!” His name was a scream on my lips. With each swipe of his fingers, it became too much and, at the same time, not quite enough. I wanted more. I needed him. I wanted his girth, his body covering mine to send me in a spiral.
Miguel pulled his fingers out of me, and I whimpered at the loss of his touch. But he was immediately there, grasping me by the hips and flipping me. My languid body obeyed his rough positioning.
“On your knees.”
I lifted onto my knees, the front of me sticking to the back of the couch. My breasts felt heavy, nipples needy and wanting to be touched.
“Hold onto the back.” His voice was gruff with command, rolling over me and causing my body to wrack with shivers.
My fingers trembled as I gripped the edge of the couch. I was bare, blind, unable to see him. But what I felt was enough to have my head reeling.
He crowded at my back, wet hands palming the thickness of my ass. He smoothed his palms over the globes, fingers squeezing and playing, pushing my cheeks together and then apart, leaving them that way for inspection.
“Fuck, this ass is glorious,” he whispered. “You ever been fucked here?” His finger teased the edge of my back hole, and I jerked from the surprise of it. He held me steady at the waist, teasing the rim once more.
“No.”
I’d never wanted to with anyone, but the way he was teasing me made me want to explore that option. I didn’t know how, but I knew Miguel would take good care of me.
