by Leanne Davis
Then the bed moves as he comes towards me. Instantly, my heart escalates and the blood rushes, causing my skin to flush. Please let him come nearer. Please, I chant over and over. Don’t let him just settle on the other side of me.
He’s moving his arms until he manages to find me. Enfolding me in his arms, his face is right next to mine. His mouth is so close, I can feel his breath. I hesitate, frozen, and totally enraptured. His mouth touches mine and our lips meet and we kiss. It’s long and lingering so I begin straining towards him with my entire torso. He surrenders his lips to mine, and his body collapses. The weight of him falls on me and I welcome all of it. My arms go around his neck as my hands brush up into the silky strands of his hair. I love how he feels. His body fits over mine and feels perfect. His hands travel from my sides to my stomach before sliding up until his finger leaves a trail over my left breast and nipple. After exploring my neck, he lets it disappear into my hair. He holds my head right there and his thumb rubs over the soft skin just below my ear. The tender touch is so soothing, and yet, I feel like he’s rubbing somewhere far more erotic.
His mouth fully engages mine as his tongue enters and he nudges further inside. He dips in deeper and I simply melt, running my hands through his hair and over his back, restlessly gaining momentum as the kiss goes on and on. His lips slide off mine to touch the corner of my mouth, my cheek, my temple and my ear. He nibbles on my earlobe before tickling my ear with the tip of his tongue. I groan and my legs open wider so he can settle his hips against mine. He’s turned on, very hard and hot, and I sense my growing wetness. He must feel it through the thin cotton of my panties and pajama pants.
His lips leave my ear and he trails more kisses down my neck. They are constant, steady and erotic. My entire body responds with shivers at the wonderful sensations. But I want his mouth to move faster. I love the languid pace he initiates, but I can’t get enough of him either. His mouth comes to the ridge of my tank top. He moves off me enough that his gaze is on it and his hand comes up. He cups my breast and my breath catches. He tugs the material down so my small breast is exposed. He stares long and hard before lowering his mouth on me. His lips press down and his tongue feels soft and warm on the end as he flicks it. My entire insides seem to liquefy. I love watching his face on my breast, and his profile looks so beautiful and feels so dear to me. My hand comes up and I gently press him closer.
He only lifts up enough to move to the other breast and perform the same ritual. I moan with eager anticipation. I can’t wait. I squeeze my inner legs, wanting him. But he isn’t in a hurry. He spends long moments touching, licking, kissing, and fondling my breasts. He buries his face in them. “Since the night I touched your back, when you were taking off your wedding dress, I’ve wanted to do this.”
The statement both shocks and thrills me as I bend my knees and push my pelvis further into his. He groans at the heightened contact. We are both hot there. Many degrees warmer there than the rest of our bodies. He lifts up and his hands tug and pull at the elastic of my pants. I shimmy them down my legs so I’m nude but for the tank top, which is half off. His breathing escalates. He touches me, rubbing his fingers through my pubic hair and along the seam of my wetness. I moan in response to his exciting touch. His gaze is riveted down there. He’s sitting beside me and shocks me when he leans down and replaces his hand with his mouth. I dig my heels into the mattress, spreading my knees wider as my hips lift upwards towards the silky, wet heat of his mouth. He’s soft and timid in the way he licks me. I press, wanting more, gasping and flipping my head back and forth. When his tongue comes inside me and his hands dip under my butt cheeks, cupping them and holding me in a more accessible position, my blood pressure skyrockets. I thrash, wanting to grip something, but there is nothing to grab. I feel the sensations curling my toes and can’t help the groans that emerge from my mouth. He continues to kiss and lick me so thoroughly, my body tightens before achieving a deep orgasm that makes all my senses awaken at once.
I regain myself as my eyes blink open and my breathing starts to regulate. I can’t believe that was me. I pull my knees together and watch him. He begins taking his shirt off before undoing the button of his pants and shoving everything past his hips. I watch him as he lies down next to me and finishes stripping and throwing his clothes out of the way. He turns his head towards me. We stare at each other for a long moment as quiet descends. A small smile brightens his face and I can’t help smiling back. I lift my hips up and suddenly launch myself at him, pressing my torso against his as I hug him hard.
I bury my face in his shoulder and feel his startled breath when I curl into him tightly. I want his warmth and reassurance. Harrison was the only one for me before, so this feels… odd. Good. His lips brush the top of my head, and he kisses my hair. “Are you okay? You want… you want me to stop?” he asks as he nuzzles against my ear.
I smile and flip my face off his chest so he can see me. “No. I mean, yes, I’m fine. Yes, I want you to keep doing this.”
He stares at me and his hand grazes my cheek. “Then don’t act like you’re about to cry. I thought…”
“I just like the way you feel.”
His expression clears up and he cups my face, leaning forward in a long, lingering kiss. I can taste the faint salty flavor of me still on his lips. “I like that answer.”
I put my hands over his and interlace our fingers. “I like you.”
His gaze narrows. “I like you, too, Emily. A lot.”
Something flips in my chest. His voice is so low and sincere. I lift my hips up and move around. His body instantly responds and he’s against me then, hard and warm; and I love the contrast. I rub against him as he closes his eyes. “I really like that,” he mumbles as I lean forward to kiss his lips.
“Then you’re going to like what happens next,” I say as I slip the tip of him over my threshold without letting him inside me. I’m so wet, he’s like a living, breathing vibrator. I jerk my hips faster, pleasuring myself.
He groans. “Emily… that’s… I can’t…” His eyes pop open wide. “I need… I need a condom.”
I stop and squeeze my swollen, excited lower half to calm down.
I instantly get to my feet and find my purse before bringing one back with me. I open it and slip it on him. Ramiro’s eyes stay on me the entire time. I know he’s checking out my bare ass when I turn from him. His hand rubs it as I work the condom down his huge shaft. His hand cups me before sliding his fingers inside me. My hands falter as he plunges into my wetness. I moan and rise up to simply straddle him, taking him inside me with one easy thrust, and all the way to the hilt. I’m so wet and lubricated, I feel nothing but pleasure and hear groaning from both of us. He grabs my waist and holds me steady before I lean over him, pressing my hands on his chest and riding him. Hard. Up and down, I go so fast, I almost bounce off him. I don’t care. I’m wild. Lost. Enraptured. Filled with lust.
He pulls my torso down as his mouth covers mine and my lower half erupts into a long, drawn-out, all-consuming orgasm. He comes too before releasing me and I flop to the side of him, as exhausted as I used to get after a fast sprint down the track. But this was hotter and longer and better than any sport. It was perfection.
Chapter Eleven
~Ramiro~
Quiet fills the room. Satiated. Satisfied. I can’t shut my eyes, or believe this happened. I did it. I just had sex with Will Hendricks’s daughter.
Of course, I’d never reveal that to him. Or use it against him.
I’m not sure which part surprises me more—that I did it or that I won’t use it to my advantage.
Nothing is going how I planned. Not that I exactly had a plan. Just a growing hatred. Red-hot, burning hatred toward Will.
He’s like the North Star for how I live my life. I must hate Will Hendricks. I’ve been trained to despise that name since I was very young. Since I could first understand language, my father has muttered and ranted against Will Hendricks. His hatred blazed so deep
inside him, he never came out of it or managed to live a decent life. Although he never married my mom, he didn’t leave her either. She supported him all her life, as well as me. We grew up on very little, what most people would consider nothing, but she made it work. She stretched every dollar she earned until I was old enough to help her. But she insisted that I finish high school. In her eyes, there was no greater goal for me to accomplish than to earn a high school diploma. My mom never had one. She had to work since the age of fourteen. Hard life. I swear to God, she worked herself to death. There was little joy in my mom’s life beyond her relationship with me. I was her pride and joy, and all she had to her name.
In contrast, my father was miserable and unbearable. His crushed leg always ached and as it atrophied, he became housebound, nearly bedridden. He didn’t even try to get better or at least, not be so miserable. He drank himself to death. Spending his life in a tiny room, staring at daytime TV and nursing bottles of tequila. No wonder he was such a miserable fuck. He was, too. I hated him. Almost as much as I hated Will. My dad was always there… always. As my mother worked and grew weary, there he was. She and I would eat together and he’d be sulking in the background, grumbling, mumbling, and calling us cruel names, depending on how drunk he was. When he passed out, it was always a relief.
My mom was a quiet woman, even around me. She never once complained about her lot in life. Or that the man who fathered her child was such a useless fuck. I swear, she was grateful to him because of that, and never moaned about the things he did, or didn’t do. We often accepted charity from the church where my mom was a devoted member. She never asked for public assistance, however, contrary to what many assume. She was a proud woman, and never possessed a new garment or pair of shoes in her life.
Her poverty instilled a burning desire in me for new things. I always tried to fit in. I feared people at school would suspect how poor we were, or see what a miserable, lame drunk my father was. I didn’t let anyone close to me. I hung out with guys, but none of them were nice or understanding. They were just guys to kill the time with. As a juvenile, I got in some minor trouble with the law, but nothing too serious. I didn’t let any girls close to me either. I wasn’t looking for that. Not even one time.
Until Emily.
What my dad had against Will was never my war. I have no undying love for my father, but because he was injured by Will’s action, I figured that was why he was so damn miserable to my mom and me, and perhaps most of all, to himself. He never had any intention or desire to seek revenge on Will although that’s all he talked to me about.
When I graduated from high school, I came here for college. My mom died right after I graduated, having seen her dream come true, and my dad passed just last year. It seemed so fitting for me to come here, if only to prove what that rich, well-to-do, white fuck did to my father. He not only condemned my father’s life, but also my mother’s. I could live with it, if it only involved my dad and me, but not when my mom was victimized. She was small, sweet, quiet, and demure. Juanita Vasquez never hurt anyone. What she endured all her life wasn’t right. While I feel some compassion for Emily’s mom, at least she was always well-fed, with a positive outlook and good health as well as a job and a supportive family. And thus was born the vendetta that I am so hell-bent on pursuing.
Emily stirs in her sleep. I roll towards her, my hands seeking her soft, silky skin as I rest my flat palms on her stomach. She curls into me, pressing her back against my front. My fingers move upwards, touching her proud, perky nipples. She mutters and squirms as her legs part. I separate long enough to grab a condom off the nightstand and make ready so that I’m soon poised at the entrance of her wet, slick opening. She pushes backwards and takes me inside her. It’s only a few seconds. I close my eyes, gritting my teeth against the overwhelming feelings. In minutes, our bodies move together. We remain silent but our skin heats up and she moans a soft, little sound as her body tightens around mine. I hammer into her as hard as I can one last time before I come too.
After a few long moments, she flips over and her arms go around my chest as she clasps me tightly to her. “That’s a good way to wake up,” she says, touching my chest with her mouth. She kisses me and scoots up to nuzzle my neck.
It’s hard for me not to respond. My lips dip down and touch hers. Our tongues entangle.
“Why were you acting so strange last night? Before… this?” she asks.
“I wasn’t sure about it.”
Her mouth touches mine again. “And how about now? Are you sure now?”
I smile at her flirtatiously illustrated point. Her soft, little hand drifts downwards and I spring eagerly towards it. “You could say that.”
“Why were you unsure?”
So many reasons. I know I should tell her. Admit all the lies I’ve already told her. Her decision to be like this with me is based on nothing but lies. But I remain silent. My thoughts start to slide away as she fists me in her hand. I see spots behind my eyelids and can’t help but groan. “Because there’s never been anyone else for you and I wasn’t sure the next one should be me.”
Her hand stops its exquisite explorations. I sigh and blink my eyes and find her staring right at me. “Harrison, you mean?”
“Yes. I know you haven’t done this with anyone else. I can’t offer you much. I don’t know if this was a good idea.”
“What is it you think I want? An engagement ring?”
My hand rises up and I slick back her hair. I can’t restrain a smile at her offended sarcasm. “No. Like…” How shall I word this? “Like you were used to a certain way. With a certain person. Maybe I couldn’t… you know, be that.”
“You were worried your performance couldn’t compare to Harrison’s?”
“Well… yes. That’s about the sum of it.”
She kisses my mouth and her hand resumes stroking me. “You managed it quite well. How many others have there been for you?”
I keep kissing her between words. Our tongues engage and it’s so hot. My body is burning up and I struggle for the right words. “Not that many.”
“Why not?”
“Never wanted to be tied down.” My hips move upwards with her hand. “I might now,” I mutter, shutting my eyes and surrendering myself to her. I give her full control and it’s long and hot and erotic. When I come, she’s on top of me and I’m buried inside her.
She’s better at this than I hoped or dreamed. She’s more aggressive and knowledgeable than I pegged her to be, too. I’m kind of blown away.
“Ramiro?” Her voice is soft and gentle near me.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your life been like until now?”
My eyes crack open. “Some light pillow talk, Emily?”
She shakes her head and her blond hair, all rumpled now, falls over her shoulder. “Getting-to-know-you kind of talk.”
I sigh. “Mom worked her fingers to the bone. Father drank at every opportunity. I think she died from working too hard and he died from drinking too hard.”
Her hands embrace me. “I didn’t realize that. I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. Her embrace makes me feel false and I resist the urge to throw her hands off me. But worse still, I don’t want to. I want to immerse myself in her softness, and her breathy voice and kind, sympathetic eyes. Big and wide and sincere. So goddamned sincere. “He was a miserable SOB and I should be glad he died.”
“But you’re not?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess once someone is dead, nothing can ever be fixed if it was wrong, you know?”
“You didn’t have much, did you?”
I turn my head towards her. “I live in near splendor now compared to what my mom and I had while I was growing up.”
“When did you come here?”
“Where? Ellensburg?”
“No, America.”
“When I was...” my voice fades off. I can’t do it. I can’t add to the blatant lie. I grumpily answer, “I don’t want to discuss
it.”
“Oh. Okay.” Her face crumples up with embarrassment. She doesn’t know what to make of my life. I can’t tell her either.
“You must consider my family and me to be ridiculously spoiled.”
“I must. And I do. But I don’t care either.” And that’s the goddamned crux of my newest dilemma. I don’t care if she’s spoiled and privileged. And although I should resent her and want to use her, I can’t. I can’t force myself to hurt her in any way. I don’t feel any of the anger, rage, or simmering grievances my father harbored. I don’t know if that’s because I’m a better person than he was, or just a more stupid one.
She’s suddenly on me. Rolling toward me, she nearly attacks me when she wraps herself around me and her mouth finds mine. She kisses me long, hard and deep, tucking her head down under my chin, and then just lying there on me. She holds me close, and I hold her.
I’m startled at first and try to keep my hands off her body, but I can’t resist her. The intensity of her passion has a grip on me. She acts as if I matter to her. It makes my heart beat faster and my mind fills up with images. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I’m supposed to be in control at all times. I have to be heartless, immune to the warm, strong arms that cling to me as if she wants to rewrite my past and embellish it with unbridled happiness. As if she wants to soothe me and care for me and…
Fuck. This simply can’t be.
I suddenly roll her off me and slide up to a sitting position, running my hands through my hair. Time to stop cuddling and pretending that my life and hers can mesh together.
“Ramiro?”
Her voice comes from behind me. She is questioning. Hurt. I’ve hurt her feelings and surprised her. “Did I offend you? If so, I’m sorry, I’ll stop asking. You don’t have to tell me anything unless you want to.”
I close my eyes. My traumatic, illegal, poor immigrant background. She doesn’t know the half of it. I now regret my swift reaction because it’s awkward. She isn’t trying to be anything but sweet and caring. She only wants to know me better. Who spends time doing that? Who wants to know me more than I allow them? No one. There is no one else in the entire world except Emily Hendricks, who so oddly and dramatically entered my life. And I attack her for it.
