Page 79 of Rio
“You went out shirtless,” I breathe against his mouth.
“Should I have worn a tux?”
There’s a pause.Then he pulls away, moves the lamp to the edge of the table, so that more of the light falls onto me.The soft glow fills the hut, flickering against the scratched up walls.I look at him—really look at him.His chest is bare, soaked, perfect.Drops of rain still slide down the ridges of muscle like water over carved stone.His eyes drop to my tank top.His voice is low.
“I’ve made you wet again.”
“I’ve been wet a long time.”
Before I can say anything, we’re kissing again.Harder.Hotter.Desperate with need.Hands everywhere.His hard body presses against me, but I feel something harder poking at my stomach.
“You like this, huh, princesa?”His hand cups my breast gently.In answer, I suck his tongue, grinding against him, every inch of me screaming for his touch.I’m greedy and needy, and desperate for more.
***
RIO
I’m hard as steel, and when Raquel grinds against me, I have to fight not to lose it.
This woman tests my restraint, and it takes all of me to resist her.I kiss her hard, fucking her mouth with my tongue, trying to eke out my pleasure, and taking what I can without going too far.
Raquel isn’t a wallflower.She takes, consumes, gets her satisfaction, and I’m more than happy to let her.
The air between us crackles, not just because of the heat between us, but because of the friction that comes from unspoken words.
“Touch me,” she begs, splaying her hands against my chest.
I tilt my head, wondering exactly where and how she wants me to do that.I have no problem obliging, but I don’t want to mess anything up, assume too much, especially when my cock is driving this, not so much my brain.
Her hands glide slowly all over me, from my pecs, my shoulders, my biceps, down my abs, like she’s trying to memorize every inch.I can’t wait for her to get familiar with every part of me, just like I dream about doing the same with her.Every inch, every crevice, every dip, every nook, every fold.
“Wait.”Miraculously, I have enough clarity of mind to think about comfort.There’s nowhere to sit.There’s only one chair.Another one that’s broken.There’s no bed, or anywhere to lie down.Just a wooden slat that looks like a low hanging shelf.I take the heap of newspapers from the corner and tile a patch on the floor, then spread the emergency blanket over them.I spread the thin poncho over that, trying to make a comfy area.
I move the lamp higher, onto the table where it no longer spotlights the dirt and mess, but shines on Raquel, on her long hair, cascading over her in waves, and her big brown eyes which stare back at me.
“Let’s sit,” I suggest.We do, fumbling for space on the little safe area I’ve created, but it’s uncomfortable.She adjusts her position, trying different variations.
She groans.“I can’t get comfortable.
I try not to gawk at the way her nipples poke against the fabric of her top.All I want to do is clamp my mouth around them and suck hard.I’m not comfortable, either, but at least I can bring my knees up.Sitting like this, we’re so close together, I feel the warmth of her body, and her hair brushes my shoulder when she adjusts her posture again and tries to sit with her legs tucked under her.Finally, she kneels, sitting back on her heels, her hands on her thighs.
That doesn’t look comfortable either.“Your shorts look tight,” I remark, though my voice sounds oddly weird.
“I was going to take them off, before you showed up.”
“Go ahead, princesa.Don’t let me stop you.”
Her eyes flash, not with anger, but excitement.Like I’ve dared her to do something and she’s not going to back down.Eyes fixed on me, she rises slowly.The view from the ground up is tantalizing.Like the tease she is, she slowly undoes the top button of her shorts, before peeling down the zipper.
As if that weren’t a call to my cock, she then tries to wriggle out of them.But it’s not easy because they’re stuck to her.Each inch she wriggles them down, her panties get pulled down as well.It turns into a balancing act; her trying to keep her panties on, while trying to get her shorts off.
“Want some help?”I offer, swallowing hard and wondering what possessed me to make the suggestion.
“With what?”Her eyes pin mine, as if she’s challenging me to make the next move.
“Y-you’re trying to take off your shorts,” I point out, my voice hoarse, “without pulling your panties down at the same time.”Her nipples strain against her vest, and I begin to salivate.With my cock straining against my boxer briefs, my shorts feel even tighter.
“How will you help?”she asks, ever the interrogator, even in moments like this.
