“Good girl.” Mycorazónis feeling dirty today.
I do as she asks, quickly making my way down her luscious body. She spreads her legs wide for me, watching me with lust-filled eyes, her bottom lip caught in her mouth. Keeping my gaze locked on hers, I lower my mouth and delve in. I love her taste, her smell. It’s as if it was created with me in mind, a specific fragrance designed to entice and enchant me.
I can’t get enough of her. I could be inside her all day, every day, and it wouldn’t be enough. I lick and suck on every bit of her, her moans and cries only spurring me on. Sucking her clit into my mouth, I press down on her belly when she lifts off the bed, her cries growing louder, my name falling from her lips.
Thrusting two fingers inside her, I revel in the squelching noises. She gets so wet for me, her arousal slicking her thighs. While I lap it up, I let my fingers press against her G-spot and chuckle as she screams out her pleasure, her pussy clamping down on me.
Quickly removing my fingers, I gather more of her wetness, trailing my fingers down and pressing them into her ass. Her quick gasp of pain is soon replaced by panting, as I force her orgasm into another one.
I rock my fingers in and out of her, my mouth still on her pussy, and Dutch arches her back, her mouth open on a silent scream. Her hands slap against my head, whether to pull me closer or push me away, I don’t know. But I slow my ministrations, removing my fingers and gentling my tongue until I eventually pull away.
Looking up the length of her body, I admire the plane of her stomach, and the swell of her beautiful tits, nipples hard and pointy. Dropping a kiss just above her pussy, I work my way up, eyes locked on those nipples. Squeezing one breast, I devour the other, sucking as much of it into my mouth as I can.
“I can’t,” Dutch pants. “I can’t do any more.”
“Yes, you can. I’m not done yet. I still have more marks to leave.”
“Fuck.” Her head tilts back, her body betraying her words as she begins to move under me again. Unable to wait any longer, I flip her over, line up, and thrust into her. She’s so wet that I just glide in, the warm wet channel enveloping me fully.
Grabbing a hold of her hair, I wind it around my fist and hold her hip with my other hand. I pump into her wildly, losing control, my thrusts hard and brutal.
“Yes,” she hisses out, meeting my thrusts with her own. “More, Cruz. Mark me.” With a roar, I haul her up, forcing her legs wide over mine. I let go of her hair and wrap my hand around her neck, squeezing lightly.
“You are mine, Dutch.Siempre.”
“Siempre,” she repeats.
Her admission makes me wild, my free hand roaming across her belly then up to her breasts, squeezing and plucking at the nipples. I increase the intensity of my thrusts, Dutch unable to do anything but hold on.
The pleasure, hot and white, begins to build, and I move my hand down to her clit, rubbing it fiercely.
“You are mine. Mine to please, mine to fuck, mine to care for, mine to love.”
“Yes,” she moans back, head thrown back against my shoulder.
“Come. Now,” I command, and her pussy clenches down hard on my cock.
“Cruz,” she screams, and I tilt her neck to the side, biting down on the base as the pleasure rocks through me and I empty myself deep inside her.
Gently pulling out, I lay her down, her eyes closed in exhaustion, but a small smile curving her lips. I just stare at her for a moment, still not believing she’s finally mine. Grabbing a warm washcloth from the bathroom, I clean us up, then get into bed with her, pulling her close.
My chest rumbles with silent laughter as she lets out a soft snore. And they say it’s men that fall asleep right after sex.
Once upon a time, I thought I loved my ex-wife. I certainly thought I had on our wedding day. But she didn’t make my blood sing. She didn’t make my heart beat faster or the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when she entered a room. Her soul didn’t call to mine. What I felt for her pales in comparison to my feelings for Dutch.
That last thought makes my conscience sting—Maria deserved better than me. Someone to love her the way I … love Dutch.
Pulling her closer to me, I vow to protect this woman with everything I have. God help anyone who tries to take her from me.
Chapter 44
Dutch
Blinkingmyeyesagainstthe morning sun streaming through the windows, I pat under my pillow, searching for my phone. Eight forty-five. A small whine escapes me, and the tattooed arm banded around my waist tightens. I poke Cruz in the arm once, but the constriction doesn’t lessen. The second time I do it, I add a bit of nail, and the arm jerks away from me with a hiss from its owner.
I pat him gently on the arm and tell him to go back to sleep. He grumbles something in Spanish, turns over, and does so.
After I shower and get dressed, I grab a banana, a bottle of water, and a protein bar from the kitchen. Throwing myself down on the couch, I turn on the television and snuggle back into the cushions with a sigh. This little slice of time is the first chance I’ve had to be truly alone in days, and I’m determined to enjoy every second of it.
