Page 76 of Zorro

Then he dipped his head, and his mouth closed over her nipple, hot and wet and slow. She arched with a cry, one hand fisting in his hair as the other clawed down his back, her thighs tightening around his hips.

Zorro moaned into her breast, sucking harder, teeth grazing as he tugged. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at her.

“I want you,” she breathed. “Everywhere. Inside me again. Around me. Like I’m yours.”

He grinned, that grin, crooked and fierce, rasping, “You already are, querida.”

One hand slipped between them, tracing the soft skin of her belly, then lower. His fingers parted her folds, dragging slowly through the slick heat of her, and his groan was so guttural it vibrated through her chest.

“So wet,” he said, awed. “So ready. For all of me. I want you to take all of me.”

She met his eyes—no fear left, only fire. “Please. Yes.”

His fingers circled her clit, soft at first, then firmer, just the way she needed. She bucked beneath him, gasping. “Mateo?—”

“Say it again,” he demanded fiercely.

“Mateo.” A whisper. A plea. A spell.

He dipped one thick finger into her, her slick heat clutching him, then added a second, curling and stroking until she was crying out beneath him, hips lifting, chasing him.

“I’m going to make you come so hard,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers. “Right here. Right now.”

He trailed his lips along her throat and down to her breasts, where he lavished the plump curves with slow, damp kisses. The ache for him transcended into something incandescent. Using the wet, swirling warmth of his tongue along her breasts, the arousing scrape of his teeth, and finally the deepening suction of his mouth on the beaded tips, she gasped and arched upward as a bolt of white-hot pleasure shot from her breast to the ache between her legs.

“Mateo, querido, please,” she whispered.

His lips skimmed along her rib cage, his groan vibrating against her skin. The hot slide of his tongue lapped across her trembling stomach, then delved into her belly button in a wicked, erotic kind of French kiss. She moaned, long and low, and her free hand gripped the covers at her side in a tight fist. It was all she could do to keep herself from coming apart right then and there.

“I need your mouth on me,” she whispered hoarsely, desperately. “Please.”

He shifted between her spread legs and moved lower, settling in so that his broad shoulders kept her knees firmly apart. Her body jerked as his mouth touched down on the inside of her thigh. His lips were soft, his breath damp and hot as he slowly, leisurely kissed and licked his way upward, until he reached the very core of her. By then, she was nearly sobbing with need.

The heat of his mouth covered her, and his tongue took over. Slipping. Sliding. Swirling in and around her soft, swollen flesh before suckling on her clit in the most breath-stealing way. He finessed her body with such utter attention to her pleasure, worshipping her as if she belonged only to him, that she nearly passed out from the glut of sensation he lavished upon her.

Within a matter of seconds, she was unraveling from the inside out. She started to pant, and then her breath caught on a sob as her climax exploded, and she was consumed by an overwhelming rush of pulsing heat. The force and intensity of her release tumbled her into the longest, most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced.

The shudders within her seemed to go on and on, and before the last of the tremors subsided, Zorro was moving up and over her. He covered her body with his own, all hard, lean muscles and barely suppressed hunger. In one long, smooth thrust, he slid into her, and she lifted her knees high against his waist to give him the deepest access possible.

Once he was buried to the hilt, he closed his eyes and groaned as her inner muscles clasped him tight. She knew he had to be aching for his own release, yet he went still, as if relishing the moment, the warmth and softness of being inside her, and the aftermath of the internal contractions still buffeting her body. “You feel exquisite the way you grip my dick.”

He began to move, rolling his hips hard against hers, then plunging deeply. Again and again. Long, slow, agonizing strokes designed to make the pleasure last. He lowered his head and kissed her, the soft, sensual glide of his tongue matching the rhythm of his lazy thrusts.

There was nothing gentle about the way he plunged into her and filled her to the hilt, nothing sweet about his deep, driving strokes. She clasped her legs high around his waist, welcoming every hard thrust of his hips, loving the way he let go and claimed her as his. Her body embraced every inch of him, met him stroke for stroke, matching the pulsing, erotic rhythm that grew hotter and brighter with each fierce thrust.

Eventually, the heat, friction, and fire caught up to him, finally shattering his control. She felt the change in him as his pace quickened, his breathing grew ragged, and he pumped harder, faster, toward his own completion. She dug her fingers into the rippling muscles of his damp back, arched high and hard into his thrusts, and felt him stiffen as his climax began. He groaned and tossed back his head, arching into her, surging higher, grinding harder, moving faster, until she was gasping for breath and swept into another climax that took her by surprise. Growling deep in his throat, he surrendered to his own fierce orgasm. His hips pressed her farther into the mattress, then farther still, nearly crushing her with the violent force of his release. His breath ragged, he collapsed on top of her and buried his face against her neck.

Breathing hard, she threaded her fingers through his hair, giving him the time he needed to recover. With protectiveness welling up in her, she cradled his face against her shoulder, holding him with every ounce of comfort she possessed as the aftermath left him shaking.

She held him like that for several moments, feeling so surrounded by him that it was almost as though he had drawn her inside his very soul. She closed her eyes, soaking up the feeling of opening herself to this man, of giving him what she had never given anyone in her entire life. Trust, and as her armor dissolved, she pressed her palm to his heated, damp skin.

He moved, stirring at her touch, his fingers tangling in her hair as he turned her head and covered her mouth in a soft, lingering kiss. He heaved a sigh. “Goddamn, woman. That was…fuck…as dangerous as being outside the wire.”

She cupped his jaw, unable to stop touching him, her fingertips brushing the stubble like it was holy. Then she pressed her mouth to his, a kiss that had no heat behind it, only the quiet beat of her heart.

A sudden rush of emotion climbed her throat, so fierce and unexpected she had to close her eyes against it. But he caught the back of her head and kissed her again, his mouth soft, grounding, his breath a tether.

When he exhaled, the sound felt like a vow. Slow. Certain. Steady.

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