Page 74 of Winning Match
His eyes hold mine for a heartbeat before his mouth descends. When his lips touch mine, I melt into him in relief. The final puzzle piece clicks into place and I’m home. Here. Complete.
My arms intertwine around Ale’s neck, and I push up on my toes. He grasps the underside of my thigh and in one sharp tug, he’s holding me, stalking forward, laying us down on the bed.
Ale’s frame settles over me and the weight is delicious. Solid and steady and safe.
He pulls back to drink me in, his smirk wicked, his eyes electric. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly undresses me. Since I had my meeting with José Costa, I’m dressed conservatively—a high-neck silk poet blouse and high-waisted, wide-legged trousers.
Ale tugs on the tie around my neck and the blouse opens, offering the slightest hint of cleavage. His teeth drop into his bottom lip and I suck in a breath.
He doesn’t rush. No, he’s slow and deliberate, slipping each fabric-covered button through its fastening, unwrapping me like a long-awaited present.
When the fabric parts and my blouse falls open to my sides, his eyes drop to my chest. One hand lifts to cup my left breast, his fingers tracing the lace of my bra’s cup with featherlight touches. He shimmies down my body, dipping until he can drop his mouth to my breasts, kissing and teasing, his deft fingers working the buttons on my pants. He tugs them down my thighs and I kick them the rest of the way off.
“Do your bras and panties always match?” he rasps.
“Only when I’m aiming for confidence.”
He shakes his head. “You always project confidence.” He slides one bra strap off my shoulder. “And it’s the sexiest thing about you.” The second bra strap follows.
And then, he pulls me up into a seated position, pushes my shirt off my shoulders, and pops the clasp on my bra until it falls away.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his eyes pursuing my body with naked appreciation.
I lie back, wearing only a cream lace thong. Ale’s thumb brushes back and forth along the strap of fabric at my hip, his length rock hard and visible through his pants.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“You’re right.” Then, he reaches behind his neck and tugs his shirt off in the ultimate guy-move that makes my mouth water. I barely note that he’s working his pants off next because my eyes are glued to his naked chest, his solid abdomen, all sleek skin and sculpted muscle.
He removes his boxer briefs next, and I audibly groan as his cock springs free—silky smooth and as hard as steel. Ale smirks knowingly as I lick my bottom lip, wondering if he’s going to fit. Alejandro is significantly larger, thicker, just more than Gerard and for a second, a fissure of nerves scatters through me.
He reaches for his bedside table, for a condom, but I touch his wrist. His eyes snap to mine. “You sure about this?”
“I’m on the pill,” is all I say as the blood drains from his face.
He tips his head back and swears. When he looks at me again, a protectiveness lines his face, his eyes heady and possessive. “Are you sure? Positive?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck,” Ale murmurs.
But then he’s leaning over me, and I’m reaching for the number nine pendant around his throat, tugging him closer. His mouth drops to mine and our lips fuse, kissing, nipping, and tasting. Our hands roam, exploring, caressing, and teasing.
When his fingers push my thong to the side to drag through my core, my hips buck off the bed. I’m already dripping for him—I have been since he first unbuttoned my blouse.
Ale hisses and I moan. He gentles his touch, dragging the pads of two fingers through my folds two more times before slowly inserting them.
I gasp, arching into him as he adds the pressure of his thumb to my clit and drops his hot mouth to my breast, making me see stars. See a future where there should only be a dead end.
But this changes everything.
Ale lavishes my breast with attention as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out, his thumb tracing small circles around my clit. When my breathing turns to panting, Ale shimmies down my body, yanking my panties off, and replacing his fingers with his mouth and I cry out. I reach for him, my hand grasping the top of his head, fingers tugging on his short hair.
I close my thighs around his face, and he growls, lapping and sucking and moaning right along with me.
“Ale, oh God, please.”
“So fucking sweet,” he says, blowing on my pussy before dragging his tongue through my center. “So fucking good.”
