Page 20 of Cartel King

Holy motherfucker.

This is better than any of the things I pictured while getting myself off with my vibrator. Over and over and over again. Definitely better than any porn I’ve ever watched.

He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the sofa. His hands grasp my ass and guide me to ride his cock. Our fucking clothes are in the way, but neither of us wants to stop kissing long enough to do anything about it. My hands run through his hair and over his shoulders and his chest as one of his hands slides up my back and around my ribs to grab my breast.

He’s kneading and squeezing. It’s arousing as hell. It’s everything I’ve been missing for years.

When he pulls away, he yanks my blouse over my head. Then he twists to lower me onto my back and holds down my bra cups so he can feast on my tits. He sucks and nibbles, making me arch my back, longing for even more.

“Please.”

He understands, biting the nipple he has between his teeth now while twisting the other. I moan, and my fingers grasp his shoulders. He reaches up and takes my hands, lifting my arms over my head. This is the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced.

I grasp the armrest and hold on, widening my legs to allow him to fit between my thighs. He grinds his dick against me, and I want nothing more than for us to both strip naked, so I can get fucked the way I’ve wanted since long before I even met him. I haven’t been with anybody since Tim, and even that was monumentally disappointing for most of the marriage.

Maybe this seems so spectacular based on the shit I have to compare it with, but I don’t think it’s that. I think it’s amazing because it’s him.

He kisses along my neck, up to my jaw, and behind my ear.

“Ellie, what are you doing to me? I have no self-control around you. I want every single bit of you.”

“I want to give you every single bit, Enrique. I have no self-control either.”

But my lust haze evaporates as he pushes my pants down, trying to get them over my hips. It’s when I lift them that I come back to reality. I press against his chest and shake my head. Immediately, he pulls away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it too far. I’ll stop. Sorry.”

I feel horrible about how guilty he looks. I sit up and follow him as he moves away from me. I adjust my pants back into place, then go back to straddling his lap.

“Enrique, this is new to me. Nobody has seen me naked besides one man in nearly thirty years. I don’t look the way I did the last time a man other than my ex-husband looked at me or touched me. It’s a little daunting.”

I feel so embarrassed. I got myself into this. My common-sense disappeared the moment he walked in the door. There’s a big difference between daydreaming about this and then actually letting it happen.

“Chiquita, can you not tell I want you just the way you are? You obviously turn me on.”

“Yeah, but there’s a big difference between what you might think is under these clothes and what actually is. I have a scar I rarely think about. However, it’s one I really don’t want anybody to see and—oh, fuck me—I haven’t waxed in years.

I spit that last bit out entirely humiliated now.

He eases me forward to lie against his chest, pressing my head to his shoulder. He kisses my forehead and runs his hand up and down my back. I can’t help the shuddering sigh as I relax against him. He wraps both arms around me, and it’s the first time a man’s comforted me in years. It’s not half-hearted or perfunctory. I feel cared about. He kisses my forehead again, and my eyes drift closed. Would that I could just stay like this forever.

“Chiquita, I’ve wanted to do that since the moment we met. But I would have waited years—though that might’ve killed me—if you weren’t ready for a kiss.”

I laugh. “That was more thanakiss.”

His chest rumbles beneath my cheek when he laughs, too. “I want you, little one. I want to feel you and taste you and bring you pleasure. But that’s not all. I enjoy your company. I look forward to it. When you shared your day with me, I wanted to share your burdens. We’ll go at your pace,chiquita, whatever it is.”

“I don’t know what that’s going to be. I’m not scared of you, and I’m not scared of sex. I’m just self-conscious right now. I’m fine with clothes on, but—well—you’re you.” I lean back and gesture up and down as I look at him. “And I’m just me.”

He tenses, and his hands slide to my ass. He holds on to me so tightly it hurts. I love it. He keeps squeezing until my hips rock forward, my ass having a mind of its own and wanting to escape his vise-like grip.

“Iwill notask what you mean because I understand. It’ll only piss me off to hear you put yourself down again. You will learn I am not a materialistic man. I don’t need to acquire possessions to prove anything. But what is mine, I take care of because it’s precious to me. You, little girl, are mine.”

His hand goes to my throat, resting heavily on my collar bone. His fingers press against the back of my neck, urging me forward. He sits up and presses his lips to mine. Both hands move to cup my jaw, and I feel like I’m in a movie love scene. Everything about the way we kiss is perfect. I’ve never felt this desired. Not by my ex-husband when we were dating. Not by the men before him. I’m breathless and in a haze when he sits back.

“Ellie—”

“Why do you call me that? No one shortens my name to that.”

---