Page 39 of His Enemy's Daughter
“That’s it.” His voice is rough satisfaction. “Let me see you. Let me feel you.”
Before I can recover, he’s positioning his cock at my entrance, thick and heavy and promising. My eyes flutter open to meet his, and what I see there makes my breath catch—raw need and possessiveness and something that looks terrifyingly like adoration.
“Last chance to change your mind.” But his voice is strained, his control clearly fraying.
“Fuck me, Mauricio.” I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Or I’ll find someone who will.”
The threat makes his eyes flash with something dangerous. “There will never be anyone else for you again.”
Then he’s pushing inside—slowly, deliberately, letting me feel every inch as he stretches and fills me. There’s a brief flash of discomfort, a sharp intake of breath, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by the rightness of him settling deep within me.
“Christ,” he breathes against my neck. “You feel like coming home.”
The words hit harder than they should. Home. Something I’ve never had, something I’ve spent my entire life searching for without knowing what I was looking for.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss as he begins to move. Each thrust is a claim, a possession, a silent promise that this is just the beginning of something neither of us will be able to walk away from.
“You’re mine now,” he murmurs against my lips. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.” The admission comes easily, because it’s the truest thing I’ve ever said. “Now move.”
His laugh is dark, dangerous. “Bossy.”
“Desperate.”
He gives me what I want—what we both want—setting a rhythm that builds the heat again, pleasure coiling low in my belly. My fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on as he drives into me, each stroke pushing me closer to that edge again.
“Look at me.” When his voice demands my attention, I force my eyes open, captivated by the intensity in his storm-gray gaze. “I want to see you when you come.”
His hand finds my clit, thumb circling with devastating precision, and the dual sensations push me over. My orgasm crashes through me, stealing my breath, my vision whiting out as pleasure overwhelms everything else.
“Regina—” My name breaks from him as he comes, heat flooding me—branding us both with something irreversible.
We stay like this, wrapped around each other, breathing hard. I let my hand wander his back, finding the evidence of old wounds beneath my fingertips—a history written in scar tissue.
“That was—” he starts, then stops, like words aren’t sufficient.
“Yeah.” I press a kiss to his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath my lips. “It really was.”
Neither of us says anything. The city’s noise filters in from outside, but it feels distant, irrelevant. Here, we’re safe. Here, wecan pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist—at least for a little while longer.
“We can’t do this again.” Mauricio’s voice breaks through my fantasy, gentle but firm.
I prop myself up on one elbow, studying his face. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t retreat back into strategy and calculation.” I trace the scar along his jaw. “Don’t tell me this was a mistake or that we need to maintain professional distance. We just had sex, Mauricio. Incredible, earth-shattering sex. Can we at least enjoy the afterglow before you start building walls again?”
His expression softens slightly. “I’m not saying it was a mistake.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That it changes things.” He sits up, taking me with him, arranging us so I’m straddling his lap as he sits on the sofa. “That now I have something to lose beyond just the mission. That Sabino finding out about this makes you an even bigger target than before.”
“I was always a target.” I rest my forehead against his. “Being your ally made me one. Sleeping with you just adds a different dimension to the same risk.”
“A dimension that makes me less objective.” His hands settle on my hips, holding me steady. “A dimension that means I’ll make stupid choices to protect you instead of smart ones that serve the bigger picture.”
