Spanish Lessons (Study Abroad Book 1)

by Jessica Peterson

  Arms that swallow me as he wraps them around me, his hands sliding down to cup my ass. He presses me, gently, against the bulge in his pants.

  “Not fair,” I say, looking up at him.

  He grins, catching his tongue between his teeth. “I know.”

  He presses a little harder. The breath catches in my throat. His dick is angled so that it presses right between my legs, just shy of the place that is the center of all this wild sensation.

  I press a little harder, rising to my tiptoes. My vision blurs. This is going to feel so damn good.

  I place my palm on the center of his chest and push him onto the bed. He laughs, his body sinking into the crisp white duvet as I climb on top of him, straddling his hips. I sink onto his dick, his jeans and my flimsy thong the only barrier between us. Heat spikes through my center. I grind my hips, slowly, against his, biting my lip. The zipper of his fly hits me right there; equal parts pleasure and pain.

  His eyes darken, nostrils flaring as his palms ride up my bare thighs. I gather the hem of my tank top and yank it over my head, tossing it off the bed. I’m wearing a plain strapless bra, nude colored, no peek-a-boo lace or anything fun like that. Rafa doesn’t seem to mind; he moves one hand up my torso, running his first finger inside the top of my bra. He catches my nipple, uses it to angle my breast out of the bra. He swipes the pad of his thumb across my nipple, once, twice, three times. I gasp, rearing into his touch.

  He reaches around to unhook my bra. It glides down my torso, landing with a small sigh on the bed. My breasts are hard with desire, my nipples puckering beneath Rafa’s gaze.

  “God, Vivian,” he says, swallowing. He takes my breast in his palm, gives it a possessive squeeze. “You’re so beautiful.”

  I lean over him, my nipples brushing against his chest. I kiss my way up his throat, the salty tang of his sweat on my lips, the woodsy scent of his aftershave filling my head. He draws his fingers down the slope of my bare back, dipping into the waistband of my skirt as I press my mouth to his.

  It feels so good, him pressed between my legs, the fingers of one hand plucking at my nipple, the fingers of the other toying with the lace edge of my thong. I’m so turned on I could scream.

  Rafa’s tugging on my skirt, but with me straddling him he can’t get it off. He turns his body, bringing mine down onto the bed. He’s on top of me now, our legs tangled. He loops an arm around my waist and lifts me further up on the bed, pressing kisses into my belly as he hooks his fingers into my skirt and thong and pulls them off. I bend my legs to help him, and he slides them down my calves, tossing them aside.

  I am naked as the day as I was born, the duvet cool against the backs of my thighs.

  When I used to hook up with Keith, my nakedness would embarrass me. I’d try to cover up, I’d try to slide under the covers so he wouldn’t make fun of whatever he saw. I guess I didn’t really like myself when I was with him.

  But with Rafa, it feels good to be naked. I’m unafraid. Unafraid of what he thinks—I know what he thinks, he thinks I’m beautiful—unashamed of my body and all the marvelous things it can do and feel.

  I close my eyes as Rafa covers my body with his. The weight of him, pressing me into the duvet, making me just the littlest bit breathless, is lovely. We are skin to skin, our naked arms gliding against one another. He balances his elbows on either side of my head, a grin on his lips as he dips his head to kiss me, a kiss that he trails down the slope of my throat. He covers me, overwhelms me, and I love, I love it.

  The breeze from the windows, warm, moves over us, a long, lingering caress. The sun sears my skin, catching a shoulder, a leg. Rafa’s teeth nick my collarbone as he moves over me, shifting his weight in subtle, delicious ways. Our skin slides and sticks, too much, never enough. He makes his way down my chest, catching a nipple in his mouth, biting, soothing, stoking, moving to my belly. He is thorough, heartbreakingly thorough, and when he looks up, his smile full of light and happiness, I have to look away. There is so much going on inside me I’m scared I’m going to cry.

  He plants a kiss on the edge of my hip and my eyes fly open. He’s going to go down on me. I haven’t—I’m not ready—oh, eff me—

  “No, no, Rafa—” I say.

  “Yes,” he says, meeting my eyes. “You are perfect. Let me love you.”

  My heart twists inside my chest. Love.

  I dig my hand into his hair and give it a small tug. He is so handsome. Boyishly, devastatingly handsome.

  And he wants to love me.

  “Vale,” I breathe.

  He lifts my hips and palms my ass and gives it a squeeze, turning his head between my legs to trail kisses up the inside of my thigh. My pussy smarts, clenches; his hands are on both my thighs then, hooking my legs over his shoulders as he licks the tendon connecting my leg to my groin. I squeeze my eyes shut against the painful intensity of my desire.

  “Look at me,” he says. “Vivian, look at me.”

  I inhale a trembling breath. I do as he tells me.

  And then his eyes and mouth are on me. I’m so wet his lips glide easily over me; he lets out a groan of approval that reverberates through my folds.

  I feel the first stirrings of an orgasm.

  Watching him kiss me there, his head ducking in time to his movements, heightens the already blinding sensation of his mouth on my pussy. His tongue feels warm and light against me, swirling around my clit – just where I told him I liked it.

  He remembers. He always remembers.

  His pale eyes are slick, latched onto mine. I fist the sheets in my hands, holding on for dear life as his mouth and lips and tongue move more ardently now. He juts the tip of his tongue inside me; I gasp, my hips beginning to dance against his mouth, wanting, needing.

  “Rafa,” I pant. “I can’t—I’m close—”

  The feeling between my legs spirals tighter. The muscles in my thighs and calves contract, my back arching off the bed as I beg for more. He gives it to me, his hands kneading my ass, his tongue burrowing into the tip of my pussy, teasing my clitoris with small bites.

  It’s infinitely erotic, watching him love me like this. I’ve never felt so free with a guy before. Free to get a little dirty, to show my pleasure and take it, too.

  Maybe that freedom explains why I’m coming so quickly. I try to hold back, but I’m lost in the sensation of his attention and his affection. I’ve never been loved like this, adored like this.

  His tongue circles me again, and again, and again, and I’m there, I’m right on the edge, I’m climbing higher, tighter, yes —

  The orgasm hits me with white-hot force. It’s got hands and it’s got teeth and it won’t let me go. Pounding throbs of poignant sensation move through me, one momentous wave after the next, leaving me reeling. It hurts. It’s the best thing ever. I cry out, the space behind my closed eyes a blessed blank as I give my body up to Rafa.

  Chapter 21

  He’s climbing back over me, pulling me into his arms as I try to catch my breath. He kisses the tip of my nose, my forehead, my lips, and I burrow into the warmth of his body, allowing him to hold me, allowing myself to be held. I feel vulnerable, aroused, alarmed.

  “It’s just you and me,” he murmurs. “Estoy aquí, Vivian, estoy aquí.” I’m here, I’m here.

  I’m so glad he’s here.

  I’ve had plenty of great orgasms before (mostly alone, with the help of a “back massager” I picked up at the mall). But they’ve never been quite like this. This is a whole new kind of orgasm. One that blows the others out of the water.

  One that I feel in my body, and in my heart.

  A heart that works double time as I inhale the scent of Rafa’s bare skin. I slide my hands around his torso to rest in the gully of his lower back. His skin is smooth, thick, tantalizingly damp with sweat. I feel the pull of his muscle, strident and strong, beneath my palms. He’s so much bigger than me, so much more powerful; it makes his tenderness that much sweeter.

  Rafa pulls back,
nuzzles his nose against mine. He meets my gaze. Up close I can see the specks of green and yellow that shade his blue eyes.

  “Okay?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  “Better than okay,” I manage. “Much, much better than okay.”

  One side of his mouth quirks into a grin. “I do not mean to brag. But do you always come so fast?”

  I scoff, tracing small circles into his back. “No. I think I may like you a little bit.”

  “A little bit?”

  I press a kiss onto his mouth. “A lot more than a little bit.”

  “Good.” He kisses me back. “I like you a lot more than a little bit, too.”

  I slide my hands around the waistband of his jeans. This time he doesn’t stop me as I unbutton them, unzip the fly. I kiss him as I work, long, lazy strokes of mouth and tongue. We kiss really well; we’re naturals at kissing one another.

  Outside the open windows, the afternoon is fading to dusk; the oranges are now dusky pink, the blue sky mellowing to violet. The air is still warm, the breeze a cooling sigh. Once you’ve experienced sunset in Spain, nothing else compares.

  Especially if you’re experiencing that sunset in bed, naked, with the Madrileño of your dreams.

  I slip a hand inside the front of Rafa’s jeans.

  “You’re a boxer guy,” I say.

  “Did you expect tightie whities?” he murmurs against my lips.

  “I don’t know what I expected,” I say. “But I like them.”

  This little detail about Rafa would charm my pants off if I still had any on. I love knowing these things about him. I can never know enough; I want to know everything. To be a part of everything that makes him Rafa.

  I feel his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He’s rock hard; he easily fills my hand. He’s not too small, not too big; just right. I wiggle two fingers through the fall in the front of his boxers. I brush the head of his dick; I swirl the wet pre-cum with my fingertips. Rafa’s body tenses against mine. He gently bucks his hips, urging the tip of his dick into my hand. I swipe a thumb across it.

  He sucks a breath through his teeth, wincing.

  “If you want to stop,” he says, “you need to tell me this now, Vivian. If we go any further—I don’t think I will be able to stop. You feel so good.”

  He pulls back and looks me in the eye. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  His eyes search mine. “I’m sure, too.”

  I don’t know what he means by that, but then he’s wiggling out of his jeans, his boxers, and I’m helping him, my hands greedy to know what he feels like, what he wants, what he likes.

  We lie side by side, completely naked, looking at each other. I take his dick in my hand and squeeze. Rafa’s eyes darken. I can only imagine how he’ll feel inside me. How good it’s going to be. How well we will fit together. Already I feel a familiar tightening between my legs stirring back to life. The head of his cock presses against my lower belly. I bite my lip. I can’t wait.

  All this skin is making me dizzy. His belly, his hips, the way his parts fit together—he’s beautiful, tan skin pulled taut over perfect muscle and sinew. I look, and keep looking, until I hear laughter rumbling in Rafa’s chest.

  “Sorry,” I say. “You’re just, um. I don’t know. Ridiculously hot?”

  I lift my face. He’s grinning, his eyes soft with something I haven’t seen before.

  He thumbs my nipple, plucking it between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re ridiculously hot.”

  The beat between my legs deepens.

  “Can we stop taking it slow?” I whisper. “I’m ready, Rafa.”

  “Sí,” he says, reaching behind him. “But first, one more very important lesson.”

  He digs the box out of its plastic bag and rips it open, retrieving a foil packet. My stomach flips. I’ve seen condoms before, plenty of times—student health, sex ed, in the bathroom Maddie and I shared last—but I’ve never actually had the pleasure of using one.

  Rafa rises to his knees, tearing open the packet with his teeth. His dick juts obscenely—tauntingly—from the veined slope of his groin.

  “Oh my God,” I say, transfixed. “You’re ridiculous.”

  He goes still. “Do I scare you?”

  “Not at all. The opposite, actually. I kinda want to eat you alive right now.”

  “Later.” Rafa holds up the clear disc of the condom. “First, I teach you how to put on a condom.” He smirks. “I am your tutor, after all.”

  I bite my lip, taking the condom from him. “Then tutor me.”

  Covering my fingers with his, he guides the condom onto the tip of his cock. “Pinch the tip,” he says. “Yes, exactly, just like that. Now roll it down…ah, fuck, Vivian, you’re killing me.”

  “Am I doing it right?” I say, sliding the condom further onto him.

  He winces. “Like all of your lessons, you do it very much right. Too right.”

  When I’m done, I lean forward and kiss the tip of his cock. Rafa looks down at me, his face a mask of barely controlled need.

  “I want this to feel good for you,” he says, using a hand to guide my legs apart. “I need to get you ready. Tell me if I’m hurting you, vale?” That same hand moves to my clit, meddling in the wetness there before sliding lower, lower. He slips one finger inside me; I’m so soft with arousal it goes easily, slowly, sinking deep.

  “Vale,” I breathe. I want him inside me so badly I can hardly see straight.

  Another finger slips inside me. I feel a pinching stretch; the pleasure edged with a charge of pain. Nothing bad, just full.

  Rafa swallows. “You’re perfect, Vivian. So fucking perfect.”

  He begins to thrust his fingers, a small movement, while he uses his thumb to play with my clit. I rise to his touch, my heart hammering in my ears. I’m excited.

  I’m nervous.

  I close my eyes. “That’s okay. That feels good.”

  He slides his fingers out of me, moving them up and around my clit, making me cry out again, louder this time. I know the window is open, I know the nice people out on the street can probably hear us, but I don’t care. I want to lose myself to this, to Rafa.

  Rafa settles himself between my legs, splaying them wider. He rests his weight on one elbow. Anticipation surges through me at the feel of his cock against me, probing, eager. Just a little lower and he could push inside me and finally deflower this twenty-year-old virgin.

  He reaches down, gliding the latex tip of his penis up and down my pussy, up and down, stoking my need to new, unbearable heights. He presses himself against my clitoris, and I arch against him. It feels so good it hurts.

  “Please,” I say. “Oh, God, Rafa, please.”

  His mouth finds mine and he kisses me, hard, a long, ardent kiss that has me moaning into his mouth. This—all of this—his passion, his body’s response to mine, his tenderness, the anticipation of what we’re about to do—it’s overwhelming. Tears well in my eyes. I close them, I don’t want to ruin this moment by crying. I’ve cried enough this semester.

  And I’m not going to be that girl who cries during sex.

  Rafa guides himself into the cleft of my pussy. The pressure is there right away; I feel myself opening to him, stretching. His belly slides against mine as he bucks his hips, gently, sinking the tiniest bit into me.

  My body tenses. This is definitely uncomfortable. He feels huge, too huge to possibly fit inside me.

  Rafa’s mouth moves over my jaw, biting at my earlobe.

  You’re mine, he whispers in Spanish, his breath warm in my ear, I’ve wanted you all this time, and now you’re finally mine.

  Falling in love with Rafa, I realize, has been a slow unraveling of all my fears, my doubts, my hang-ups. He’s opened me, he’s given me the courage to be who I am; given me the courage to abandon thoughts of who I should be. He is safety and he is home and he is sex. He is everything I ever wanted.

  I am so, so in love with him.
/>
  I am in full bloom.

  I relax. His lips are on my neck as he settles his full weight on me, both elbows on either side of my head. He surrounds me, his body, his scent, loving me as well and as intentionally as I ever dreamed of being loved.

  He tucks my hair behind my ear with fingers that tremble.

  Are you okay? he asks.

  I’m okay.

  I glide my hands down his sides as he works his way further inside me. It takes some effort, at first, not to pull back. It stings; it makes me wonder why people say sex feels so amazeballs, because this is definitely less than pleasant.

  The further he goes, the more it hurts. My fingers dig into the skin between Rafa’s ribs; he presses his lips to mine, and I lose myself in his kiss. He pushes further, always further, further when I didn’t think there could be any more room. If he wasn’t holding me captive with his weight, his kiss, I would be scrambling for the headboard.

  “Un poco más,” Rafa whispers. Just a little bit more.

  He cocks his hips, pulling back the slightest bit; and then with a solid thrust he surges inside me, sinking to the hilt. My eyes fly open at a flash of searing pain; the breath catches in my throat; Rafa is looking at me, the skin around his eyes tense. The light from the window gilds the pointed licks of his dark hair.

  “Still okay?” he asks.

  I nod. I’m afraid if I try to speak I’ll end up crying.

  He is still for some moments, allowing me to stretch, to adjust to the feel of him inside me. He draws his mouth up and down my throat, biting my lips, kissing my closed eyelids. Inside my chest my heart swells as the pain between my legs dims.

  Rafa begins to move, slowly at first, baby thrusts. Beneath my palms I feel the muscles rippling beneath the skin as he swivels his hips, small circles that hit me in just the right place. I can tell he’s holding back; he’s got a lot more to give, a lot of strength left to lend his thrusts, but he’s careful, always so careful with me.

  He moves over me, kissing me, teasing me. He pulls out, dives back in, pulls out again. I start to move, too, when it stops hurting; and when it stops hurting, it starts feeling good.