I move to push her down into the mattress, determined to taste her again, but she resists, firm palms against my chest. For a second, panic jolts through me—I’ve misread her, gone too far. But then the corner of her mouth tilts, and it turns into a full-on smirk, lighting up my every nerve ending as she pushes me back instead.
“My turn,” she says, and the word comes out clumsy, drowsy, and thick.
She straddles me for a moment, kissing me like she owns every breath in my lungs, before rocking her hips a few times over my erection. I know if I looked down now, I would see a wet spot on my jeans, and that turns me on even more. She starts slipping lower, her lips trailing down my throat, over my chest, each press hotter than the last.
By the time she reaches my waistband, I’m half wild and impossibly hard, my hands fisting the sheets and my hips threatening to buck up before I can stop myself. She glances up at me through her lashes, a spark of mischief in her blue eyes as she lowers the zipper and starts removing my clothes.
I can’t stay quiet. A groan rips from my throat, rough and broken, and I shove a hand over my face to muffle it. The moment her mouth is on me—the wet heat of her tongue and the sure slide of her lips over the head of my cock—my vision blurs. She takes her time, torturing me with every slow pass, every swirl that makes me whimper like a man starved, finally given what he’s been craving for too long.
“Do you think you can be quiet for me, baby?” she says, and I know she’s mocking me because her tongue flattens and drags all the way down to the base of my cock and then back up. Her eyes are shining, and I see the hint of a smile even as she sucks when she reaches the tip.
“Fuck, Manu,” I choke out, my free hand tangling in her hair. She hums around me, and the vibration nearly unravels me on the spot. I’m panting now, sweat beading at my temples, fighting to hold on to some shred of control while she undoes me piece by piece. “You’re going to ruin me.”
She pulls back just enough to smirk up at me. “I don’t know, maybe that’s the idea.” Her voice is husky, her mouth steady, and then she takes me deep again like she’s proving a point.
My hips jerk despite my effort to stay still. I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them again, because watching her enjoy this is better than any fantasy I’ve ever had.
“Fuck,” I whisper, half pleading. “Do you have any idea how good you look right now?”
Her free hand slides down over her own stomach, fingers sliding under her panties. I see it. I feel it, the shift in her breath, the faint tremor in her shoulders as she touches herself. The sight makes my whole body seize with want.
“Oh my god,” I choke out, sitting forward slightly, one hand braced on the mattress. “You’re touching yourself while you—” The words break off into a groan. I can’t finish the sentence. My head tips back, and I bite my lip, desperate not to come too soon.
She hums low in her throat, the vibration wrecking me. Manuela pulls back again, licking her lips deliberately slow, her eyes locked on mine. “You like that?”
My laugh is broken, needy. “You’re evil.” I reach down, cupping her cheek, thumb brushing where her mouth glistens. “Beautiful and fucking evil.”
Her grin is pure challenge. “Don’t hold back on my account.”
That’s it.
My restraint cracks.
But instead of giving in to the way her mouth is undoing me, I bend down, scoop her up with one arm, and drop her on the bed.She lets out a surprised laugh that turns into a gasp when I open her legs and spread her knees apart.
“Con—” she starts, but I’m already on my knees, dragging my hands up her thighs slowly. Goosebumps erupt all over her skin, and her lashes flutter. I can see her pulse fluttering on her neck, and my hand drifts there, touching the softness right below her jaw.
“No one,” I mutter against her skin, kissing the inside of her knee, “no one should look this fucking good.”
Her breath stutters. “You probably say that to all the girls,” she says with a laugh, and I know she’s mocking me again, especially given that conversation we had the first night here.
“God.” My voice comes out rough, and a smile starts to form on my lips. I remove her underwear slowly, dragging my hands slowly down her legs as I go along.
I kneel on the floor, settle between her legs, and lower my mouth to her. The first taste of her makes me groan against her clit, the sound vibrating into her body. She fists the sheets, arching up, and when I glance up, her head is tipped back, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut.
“Connie,” she gasps, saying the nickname I hate so much. But from her lips, it has the potential to destroy me.
“Shh,” I murmur, licking slowly, savoring her like we have all the time in the world.
Her hips roll against my mouth, small, helpless movements she can’t seem to stop, almost like she’s on autopilot. I anchor her with my hands on her thighs, greedy for every sound she makes. She moans, and I swear it shreds me in the best way possible.
I’m so hard it hurts, but I don’t touch myself. I don’t need to. Just the heat of her thighs trembling around me, the slick taste of her, the way she’s coming apart in my hands—it’s enough to push me right to the edge.
When her moans break into a sharp cry and her whole body goes taut, I come. Hard. No touch or hand or relief except the brutal, blinding release that tears through me just from giving her everything.
I collapse forward, forehead against her thigh, trying to breathe. She’s still shaking, one hand in my hair, tugging gently like she knows exactly what just happened.
And she’s smiling, wrecked and soft all at once, when I finally lift my head to meet her eyes. My chest heaves against the end of the bed, and the thought comes uninvited, unstoppable: I could get used to this.
