by Tamara Lush
He plants an open-mouthed kiss on my lips, then murmurs a response. “I’ll never forget how to please you, Justi.”
I wrap myself around him, aware that I’m naked, save for the heels, and that he’s fully clothed.
“Now. I need you inside me now. Please.”
20
Let’s Go to Bed
I kiss his neck. I don’t like how everything I say is a plea, but can’t help it. My insides feel soft and achy, relaxed, yet still needy.
“Like this, you mean?” he asks in a low voice, maneuvering me so that I lean back against his torso as he cradles me in his arms. He gently spreads my legs apart and slips a finger inside of me. The fingers of his other hand open me wide, revealing my wet and swollen clit. The image of his brutally beautiful hands between my legs make me weak, and my eyes flutter to a close, unable to handle the sight and the sensation simultaneously.
“Touch yourself.”
“Here?” I whisper, my fingers trailing down, down, down my body. I reach my clit and circle.
“Right there. Make yourself come again. Let me see you.” He’s still spreading me, and I whimper an unintelligible response. It’s the first night of our deal, and already he’s rendered me mute. It’s going to take all of my willpower over the coming days not to succumb to the sexual vortex of Rafael.
Not to fall in love again.
Moving his finger inside me, he growls. “Justi, you’re so tight. My God, if you’re this tight with only one of my fingers, how did we—”
“We managed,” I say thickly. “And I think we’ll manage again tonight. Over and over and over.”
I pinch the sides of my clit and then move my fingers up and down, slowly at first. He cradles me and watches, then says something in Spanish, something dirty about my pussy, then plunges two thick fingers inside, which leads my body to careen again into another delicious release. Or maybe I haven’t stopped coming from the first orgasm. I’m not sure. It’s been so long since I’ve felt such an intense, deep pleasure.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “Oh, fuck.”
“Just like that, muñeca. Just. Like. That. Así.”
He skims his hand over my stomach. I wriggle away and settle with my back on the plush, cream-colored rug, feeling overly sensitive to any tactile pressure. The flickering of the fire, the Cuban music, him—my senses are overwhelmed. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself.
He reaches a finger to wipe a line of sweat in between my breasts, and I open my eyes to look at him.
“You’ve matured.” I stretch my arms overhead, a post-orgasm sleepiness washing over me.
“What do you mean?”
“When we were younger, you always had the first orgasm. You’re showing a lot of self-control tonight.”
He snickers. “I’m not sure you’ll be saying that by morning.”
“Are you going to take off your clothes or are we going to chat all night?”
“You are so impatient. Don’t you need another glass of wine?”
I extend a foot. “No. I don’t. You know what I need right now? Take these damned things off.”
He laughs, slipping off my stiletto. Rafa gently puts my foot back on the floor and removes the other shoe, kissing my ankles along the way.
Then he kneels. Giving me a smoldering stare, he peels off his T-shirt, revealing the muscles of his stomach and pecs and everywhere in between. I stretch my arm toward him, wanting to stroke the ridges of his stomach. My hand only reaches his leg, so I run my fingers over the fabric of his jeans, feeling the hard muscle underneath.
With a tantalizing, slow movement, he undoes his belt buckle and slides the black leather from the loops in his jeans. My breath catches, making a small, audible gasp.
Rafa’s laugh comes in a low rumble. “I’m not going to restrain you just yet. Not this first time.”
Still using the same, unhurried cadence, he undoes the button of his jeans, then lowers the zipper. With a single motion, he slips both his jeans and boxers off to reveal his erection.
At the sight, I spread my legs wide. Rafa grins.
I breathe out a laugh in response. How I’ve missed his beautiful, thick cock. I love its veins and ridges, its smooth, round head and its arrow-straight shape.
Twisting, he gropes for his jeans on the floor and extracts a condom.
He sheaths himself and kisses me deeply. My heartbeat matches the cadence of the drums in the strains of Cuban jazz in the air. His hands grasp my wrists, stretching my arms above my head and pinning me to the rug.
“Want a confession?” he murmurs.
“I don’t know. Do I? Maybe not. I think all I want is you inside me.”
“I feel like we’re losing our virginity again,” he whispers. “It’s like we’re getting a do-over.”
I shiver. If only this was a second chance. If only I could make him love me all over again. His lips erase all of my thoughts.
“Do you remember the first time?” he asks, kissing my neck. I feel the tip of his erection on the sensitive skin of my stomach.
“I do.”
“What do you remember?” His mouth plucks at my nipple, and his cock hits the fleshy part of my bare skin between my legs. Now he’s teasing me, and it isn’t fair. Especially not when my emotions are so raw. I try to shift my hips so he’ll easily be able to enter me, but Rafa rests his larger body onto mine so I’m unable to move.
“You were worried you would break me or hurt me. What do you remember?”
Rafa stops kissing me and stares into my face. He doesn’t have an expression. My breathing quickens. His intensity has always excited me and scared me. Not because I think he’ll hurt me physically, but because he’s so focused. As if I’m his entire universe.
And he hasn’t lost that laser-like quality. It’s as if he’s the only person in the world who can really see me, understand me, please me.
“I was so nervous. I had no idea what I was doing or if I was doing it well.”
I murmur a laugh. “You did it so, so well.”
His proud grin reveals his dimples, and I feel my heart trip.
“All that dark hair and your blue eyes. Your pouty little mouth. Those big nipples and your long legs. You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And you still are.”
Our smiles fade. It’s as if the room is suddenly filled with our shared heat and need. And the pain of so many missing years, ones of regret. Our haunted memories flicker and flare in time with the light from the fireplace.
“Should we do this?” I breathe. “After…everything?”
“Do you want to, Justi?”
“More than anything I’ve ever wanted. You?”
“Dios mio, yes.” Rafa guides his cock between my legs and enters me with such deliberateness that I think I’ll weep from the warmth, the sensation, the intensity. Instead I whimper and he says something in Spanish.
We stare at each other, unblinking. We used to do this often—make love and stare into each other’s eyes. I think I might dissolve right here and now as he slowly thrusts. He feels so good, so big, so beautiful, that it makes my heart hurt.
When I see his full, lower lip tremble, I know he’s equally affected.
“Are you sure this is okay? You’re tight, and I don’t want to hurt you. But it feels so fucking good to be inside you again.”
I do feel stretched, but it’s a delicious pain, one that lessens a bit as he pushes inside. I murmur something about him feeling perfect.
He groans, quickening his rhythm. I cry out as he drives into me hard, arching my back and offering my breasts to him. Nipping them with his mouth, his hips move in a quick grind.
“I can’t help myself. I have to fuck you harder.” Rafa presses his face into the hollow of my neck. I bite his shoulder. When I struggle against his hands gripping my wrists, I feel him tighten his hold. He thrusts with force, and I love every second.
“Deeper. Harder.” I urge him on. I wrangle my legs toward my chest, and he slings them o
ver his shoulders, then grasps my wrists again.
“How do I compare to your ex?” he asks in a husky voice.
“Rafa. Don’t.”
“I want to know.”
“Better. You’re better. Way. Better.”
“Say it again.” He stares and lets go of my wrists. He withdraws, leaving only the tip inside me. I rake my nails down his chest.
“Rafael, you’re best I’ve ever been with.”
He slams his cock into me, hard.
“I’m the only man who will ever satisfy you. You know that, right?” he rasps.
I squeeze my eyes shut. His painfully true words reverberate through my body, which is tight with desire. My legs slip off his shoulders and wrap around his waist.
He puts all of his weight on me, and I dig my nails in his broad back. A possessive feeling comes over me, and I feel like marking him, branding him, as mine. I’m not usually possessive or jealous. Except when it comes to him.
“I hate the idea of another woman touching you.”
His lips rest on my forehead as he continues to fuck me steadily.
“Rafael?”
“Shhh. Whatever I’ve done, you deserve. I haven’t forgiven you.”
I bite him on the arm, hard, and he grasps my neck with his hand and holds it tight while he grinds into me.
“I might not ever forgive you. I want to punish you, Justi.”
“Stop. Kiss me. Please?”
“Beg me to kiss you. Look in my eyes.” He lets go of my neck.
“Please? Please? Please? I need your mouth.”
“You have my cock. Why do you need my mouth?” He presses his nose into my cheek and breathes hard while pounding into me, a combination of tender and carnal, something that has always been my catnip.
I groan. His hungry lips press onto mine as our bodies collide against each other’s, our rhythm in sync like it was when we were dancing.
“Justi. This is for you,” he growls. He lets out a long moan-gasp, and I can feel his cock pulse inside of me as he comes.
My eyes become watery. It’s messed up, how he makes me feel so loving and intimate after declaring that he wants to punish me. I hold him tight until my arm begins to fall asleep. Then I release his body with the long exhale of someone who knows that she’s just made a questionable decision.
Things just got extremely complicated.
Rafa rolls off me, then snuggles close with his eyes closed. God, he looks blissful, young, and sweet. How can he have zero doubts about us sleeping together? I have so many. And all the fear. I’m sweaty and my heart is pounding and we’re sprawled on the rug. He reaches to my chest and trails his hand between the valley of my breasts, skimming a little pool of moisture off my skin.
He sighs contentedly and kisses my shoulder.
My fingers stroke his hair, reveling in the short and silky texture. The room’s hot now from the fire and our bodies, almost like a sauna. I glance to the side and notice a nearby window is fogged. I’m acutely aware of the rug brushing my skin almost to the point of pain, the smell of his woodsy cologne, the glistening of sweat on his sharp cheekbone. I’d blocked out these moments with him, the ones where I felt complete, as if everything in the world was perfect because he was at my side.
“Why did we ever break up? Remind me. We were always so lovely together after sex,” I murmur.
Rafa grunts and flips over. He throws his hands in the air and sits up. “Way to ruin the moment.”
Annoyance surges through me, and I also sit up, scooting away from him and leaning against the sofa. He has that effect on me, the ability to take me from bliss to bitchy in zero to sixty. I roll my eyes and paw for my clothes.
“You’re the one who said you want to punish me. While having sex with me. Christ, Rafa. Real classy.”
“Why did we break up? Because you left me to go traipsing around Latin America to cover the news.”
“That was my dream, and after what happened between us, I clung to that dream. It was all I fucking had. And I told you I would be back. Since you stopped returning my emails or calls, it was clear that you didn’t care if I came back at all.”
He snorts. “You left me right when I needed you. What was I supposed to do? Stop living? Follow you? I probably should have, considering the danger you stupidly put yourself in. But I was too angry.”
“I can’t believe you have the balls to say that. Who needed whom in those final months of our relationship? I have every right to still be angry.” I spit my words.
Rafa glares at me, a look so nasty that my insides turn to ice.
“Those months weren’t easy for me, either, Justine.”
“If you needed me so much, why did you become so distant? Why didn’t you ask me to marry you?”
Rafael studies me, then moves close, planting a hard kiss behind my ear. His lips are scorching. “You’ll never know the answer to those questions, Justine, because you were the one who walked away. You don’t deserve answers.”
“Whatever. I’m not having this discussion. I’m going home.” I bend to reach my shoes.
He folds his hand over mine and softens his eyes. He shakes his head. “Sorry, Justi. No running away this time.”
“You’re crazy.” How am I ever going to get through the next month with him like this? Why did I agree to this stupidity?
Still, I feel myself melting all over again under his touch and I hate myself for it.
“Maybe. Maybe I am. I’m going to get us some water. Or would you like more wine? When I come back, we can talk about our plans for the weekend. And I’ll show you around the rest of the house.”
“We don’t have plans for the weekend.” I try to think of an excuse, any excuse, to not spend time with him, but the reality is, I’m almost always working and never have much free time.
“But we will have plans. I enjoy your companionship. That extends beyond the bedroom. I’m enjoying catching up with you.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. He’s so stubborn, and the more time I spend with him, the more dangerous he will be to my sanity. And my heart.
“It’s like I’m a captive.”
“I don’t think a captive would have cried out their kidnapper’s name like you did a few minutes ago.”
“Stockholm Syndrome,” I snap.
He kisses my neck a few times, pausing for dramatic effect.
“I know I’m persuasive.”
A brief kiss where my shoulder meets my neck.
“But I think it takes a little longer…”
Another brief kiss, this one on my chin. And then he sweeps my hair off my neck.
“…than a few hours to develop Stockholm Syndrome.”
A long, slow, burning kiss behind my ear.
I clamp my eyes shut, willing my body not to respond. I won’t tell him that, if he kisses me once more and touches me a certain way, I will probably orgasm again. He cups my jaw gently in his hands and tilts my face to meet his.
“Look at me.”
I feel myself melting, becoming boneless and soft. My eyes snap open and focus on his searching gaze.
“Answer me honestly. Are you having fun with me? A little bit of pleasure?”
“That’s up to you to figure out,” I retort.
His laughter makes me angry all over again.
21
Tears of Love’s Recall
It takes another glass of wine, some halting conversation, and two more empanadas for me to calm down. I move to the bedroom because I want to unpack. Rafa follows me, smiling.
He’s stretched naked on the bed, staring at my legs, watching my every move. It’s been a couple of hours since our squabble downstairs.
I flit around the bedroom, unpacking my huge suitcase. I rip the price tag off a short, cotton baby-doll nightie and stalk into the bathroom to take off the oversized robe that he’d given me to wear. I haven’t worn cute lingerie for anyone in years, and I suck in my stomach as I look in the mirror. I’m a little fleshier t
han I was in college. On the plus side, I think I have better hair. I had the most ridiculous styles when I was younger—crazy colors and post-punk. Now it’s longer, softer, my natural chestnut color. I run my fingers through it and make a duck face in the mirror. I take my contacts out and put my glasses on. My lips look puffy and red from all the kissing. I squeeze some clear gloss on in hopes they won’t get chapped.
I yank the door open and return to the enormous bedroom, where Rafa is relaxing on a giant, four-poster Spanish Mission-style bed.
“Do you approve?” I ask, twirling around.
“It’ll do, at least until I rip it off you.”
I smirk in his direction and return to my suitcase. I bend over, and an electric thrill washes over me because I’m not wearing underwear.
I haven’t been this provocative in a long time. After the first couple of years with Jared, he’d ignored my seduction attempts. I’d somehow assumed that all men were like Rafael—hot and hard and hungry all the time—and that I’d inspire that in Jared.
I was wrong.
I pull a few books out of my bag and look up at Rafael. He’s still naked and staring at me with his head tilted. I watch as he cups his balls and gives them a gentle tug, then slides his hand to his shaft.
Fighting back a smile, I turn to the bureau to arrange my mini-library. I glance back, and his hand is still on his cock, moving up and down. Which is now fully erect.
“You’re so bad. I’m just about finished, can’t you wait?” I ask with mock-annoyance. I kneel at my suitcase to pick up some shirts. I hear the bedsprings creak and, out of the corner of my eye, see Rafa get up and walk to the other bureau. He pulls out a belt from a drawer.
He stands in front of me, belt in hand. “Justine. Stay on your knees, but turn around and face me.”
I obey, then look up and grin. I’d always loved playing the part of a submissive for him.
“You like what you see, don’t you, muñeca?”
I nod.
“Tell me what you need.”
I grin. “Your cock. In my mouth.”
