Page 75 of Winning Match
I mewl, my hand in his hair gripping tighter, encouraging him to keep going, to move faster, to give me—“more.” It’s a plea and my man delivers, dropping his face back down to drive me wild.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I chant as he drives me higher, closer to the edge. “Don’t fucking stop.”
He doesn’t. Instead, he increases the pressure, the pace, and gives me every goddamn thing I ask for and more.
“I’m gonna come,” I warn him seconds before the most delicious, tantalizing, desperate need coils in my abdomen, curls my toes, and bows my back. Then, I shatter and pleasure like I’ve never known—waves and waves of color and light—unleashes through my limbs. “Oh my God,” I whisper, my voice shaky.
“Just me, mi niña,” Ale says in that cocky-as-fuck way of his. He smirks as he lines himself up at my entrance. But his eyes are solemn as they hold mine, our fingers threading together.
I lift my hips to urge him along. “Please,” I beg, half incoherent with arousal and pleasure. “I need you.”
Ale bites his bottom lip, his jaw tight, his eyes fierce as he pushes into me, stretching my soft around his hard. He swears, biting, harsh words in Spanish that heat my blood.
I moan, the fullness he provides more satisfying than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. He bottoms out and groans just as I sigh.
Ale flexes his fingers, but I hold on tightly, keeping our hands joined as he grounds the back of my hand into the mattress and begins to move.
His pace is smooth and fluid as he dances over me, reminding me of the night we danced bachata. His abs ripple, his neck strains, and a muscle pulses in his jaw. But his eyes—beautifully harsh, alluringly wild—never leave mine.
As he increases his speed, my body tightens in anticipation. And slowly, Ale’s eyes change—awareness shading the green with gold, a softness spreading from his pupil to the outer ring of his iris.
“Marlowe,” he moans, his voice a whisper. “Fuck, Marli. What are you doing to me?”
I come a second time, his desperate question, his hopeful gaze, ripping a second orgasm from my sated body.
“That’s it,” Ale coaches. “Give me everything.”
And I do. I detonate around him, riding out my orgasm as he continues to pump inside of me. As I float down from the highest high I’ve ever experienced, Alejandro grips my hip and begins to piston inside of me, setting a relentless pace.
He cries out a moment later—mi amor—before spilling into me, filling me with his want. With his essence. With everything.
He drops forward, rolling us until we’re side by side, our foreheads pressed together.
“That was…” He trails off. “Fuck, Marli, you just flipped my world upside down.”
I giggle lightly.
He stays inside me for several more seconds before slowly pulling out. A rush of his arousal follows, flowing out of me and coating my thighs.
He reaches for me, hooking an arm around my waist and hoisting me closer. Our bodies press together, our mouths line up, and Ale kisses me deeply. Slowly. Thoroughly.
I think I love you, I want to tell him.
But I’m too scared to voice the words. Instead, I close my eyes and enjoy the best birthday I’ve ever had with the best man I’ve ever been with.
He gives me my birthday gift in bed. We’ve both cleaned up but we’re still naked, huddled together under the comforter.
“Happy birthday, Marli,” he says simply, passing me the small gift box.
“You didn’t have to do all of this,” I murmur but I know my eyes are gleaming with happiness, with hopefulness.
Part of me wants to rip into the present to see what Ale chose for me while the other part wants to cling to this gift box, this moment, forever. “This has been one of the best nights of my life.”
Ale brushes a kiss over my lips. “I want to celebrate you every day, always.”
Swoon. Who the hell says things like that? I bite my bottom lip, my eyes cutting to the box as I shift and sit straighter in bed.
“Open it.”
