Page 74 of Not For Keeps
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by my desperate moans and his guttural groans. I brace myself against the wall, my palms flat against the cool surface as he pounds into me from behind. Every thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through my body.
“You take me so well,” he praises, voice strained with the efforts of his movements. “Like you were made for me. Only me.”
His hand slides from my hip, tracing a path across my stomach before dipping lower. When his fingers find my clit, circling with perfect pressure, my entire body jerks. The dual sensation of his cock stretching me full and his fingers working magic has me careening toward the edge again.
“Oh god,” I whimper, my body tensing as pleasure builds with frightening speed. “Mateo, I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can, chula,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “Come for me again. I want to feel you squeeze around me when you fall apart.”
His thrusts become more erratic, more desperate, as his fingers work faster. I can’t stop trembling.
“Mateo,” I cry out, my voice breaking on his name as the pleasure crests. “I’m?—”
The orgasm tears through me like wildfire, my body convulsing as I scream his name. My vision whites out completely, every muscle seizing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. I’m dimly aware of him cursing in Spanish behind him, his rhythm faltering as I clench around him.
“Fuck, Analyse,” he growls, his movements becoming frantic. “I’m going to?—”
His words cut off in a strangled moan as he buries himself deep, his body going rigid against mine. I feel him pulse insideme, hot and thick, marking me as his. The sensation draws out my own climax, making me shudder with aftershocks.
We stay like that for long moments, both of us breathing hard, sweat-slicked skin cooling in the air. When he finally pulls out, I whimper at the loss, my legs threatening to give out completely. He catches me before I can collapse, strong arms encircling my waist, turning me to face him.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against mine.
He lifts me effortlessly, cradling me against his chest as he carries me toward the bedroom. My arms loop around his neck, face nestled in the crook of his shoulder. I breathe him in—sweat, sandalwood, and something so uniquely Mateo.
The sheets are cool against my heated skin as he lays me down. He follows me down onto the mattress, his body a welcome weight above mine. His thumb traces the curve of my cheek, eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.
“You okay?” he asks, voice rough with concern. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”
I shake my head, still catching my breath. “No, you were perfect. It was perfect.”
He presses a tender kiss to my forehead, then my nose, then my lips—soft, lingering touches that make my chest tighten with something deeper than desire. This gentleness is unexpected, a stark contrast to the raw hunger from moments before.
“Good,” he whispers against my mouth. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”
A shiver runs through me at his words. Despite the earth-shattering orgasms, I can already feel that familiar heat building again under his touch. His hands skim down my sides, reverent now, worshipping rather than claiming.
“Again?” I breathe, surprised by my body’s eager response.
His smile is wicked. “I told you I was going to take my time with you,” he reminds me, his voice a low rumble against my skin. “That was just the beginning.”
His fingers trace lazy patterns across my stomach, each touch leaving goosebumps in their wake. I’m hypersensitive now, every nerve ending raw and exposed. When he dips his head to press his lips to my collarbone, I shudder beneath him.
“I want to memorize every inch of you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. “Every birthmark, every scar, every place that makes you gasp when I touch it.”
His mouth follows the path of his words, trailing down between my breasts, lingering at the small birthmark right below my breast. He takes his time, tasting and teasing, his tongue tracing patterns that make my breath hitch.
I arch beneath him as his hands slide down to my hips, fingers pressing into my flesh with just enough pressure to make me moan. Time seems to stretch and compress all at once. Each second feels eternal, yet I’m losing all sense of how long we’ve been tangled together in the sheets.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure I’m begging for.
He lifts his head, eyes dark with hunger as they meet mine. “We have all night,” he promises. “And I plan to use every minute of it.”
And for the next few hours, that’s exactly what he does.
Chapter Twenty-Two
MATEO
