Page 18 of Wes

My lighthearted attitude defuses whatever was triggering her. Maria offers me an exaggerated eyeroll and sigh. “Stop stalling and suit up.”

Laughing, I grab the condoms. She steals a packet from me, tears a unit from the strip, and applies her teeth to open it. Together, we cover my twitching cock. I roll her onto her back as she wraps her thighs around my hips.

In one swift thrust, I slide inside her tight pussy to the hilt and pause. Sensations overwhelm me as our bodies pulsate in the same frequency. Hearts thud together. Muscles tighten in a vice-like grip. Time stands still when I close my eyes and savor this first intimate contact. Our bodies fit like two pieces of a puzzle. I don’t want to be anywhere else.

“You feel like heaven,” I groan inside her ear as I withdraw with a lazy roll of my hips.

7

MARIA

His low baritone caresses my ears while his ragged breathing fans my cheeks as his hard cock drills me. His weight pins me to the mattress, but I match his thrusts with the same enthusiasm. In the club, I thought those orgasms he gifted me were the highlight of the evening. After all, it’s been too long since I had a male-driven orgasm as opposed to battery-operated ones. But the earth-shattering waves of pleasure that wash over me now prove I was wrong before.

Wes is the sex expert he claimed to be. The man could make a fortune teaching how to please a woman if he weren’t already filthy rich.

“God, I’m almost there,” he grunts, dropping his forehead to mine and slowing to a stop inside me.

“What’s wrong?” I frown, squeezing my thighs around his narrow hips.

He takes a couple of deep breaths before replying, “Nothing. I just need a sec. I want this to be perfect for you.”

Before I can ask what he means by that, Wes pulls out of me, flips my body on the bed like I’m a doll, and swats my ass.

“Ouch! What’s that for?” I snap my head up and look over my shoulder to scowl at him.

His grin widens. “Because your perfect ass was made for a good spanking.” His hand showers more slaps equally divided on both butt cheeks.

I gasp when sharp sensations connect my offended ass to my throbbing core. “Don’t do that,” I plead burying my face in the pillows. “It hurts.”

He stops at once. I relax my tense shoulders. His lips graze my skin, smarting from his rude treatment, and I’m on alert again. I moan when the tip of his tongue travels along the curve of an ass cheek.

He sniffs and chuckles against me making the fine hairs on my butt stand on end. “Such a little liar, Maria. You’re just as turned on as I am.”

Denying the truth won’t get me anywhere, so I shrug, still hiding my face from him. “It doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

His fingers smooth my ass as he murmurs, “There’s a fine line between pain and pleasure. I can show you how to blur it if you let me.”

Tempting as his offer sounds, I know better than to risk opening old emotional wounds. It took me years to mend them, to grow a psychological scar tissue over them. I won’t play with fire now.

Shaking my head, I blurt, “No, thank you.”

His masculine chuckles warm my muscles just like his fingers curving around my waist ground me. “Such a good girl. On your knees and hands,” he growls in my ear, yanking my body up.

Without hesitation, I assume the position, blood rushing through my veins. Its lightning speed makes my ears ring. The way this man plays my body like a fine instrument baffles me. I haven’t experienced this level of connection with a man since Ken died. Even with my late husband, it didn’t happen on our first time. I wrangle my thoughts away from that path. As always, whenever I remember his death, darkness lurks at the corners of my mind like a sneaky thief casing a target.

I focus on the hot rock star in my bed and knit my eyebrows. He’s arranging my arms and legs and rotating me on the bedspread until my head faces the side of the king-size bed.

“What are you trying to do?”

His fingers around my chin, lift my head. “Look at us in the mirror on that wall.”

I forgot about the full-length mirror set on a frame of brushed stainless steel.

Meeting his gaze in the glassy surface, I jab. “Pretty sure the designer meant to add space to the room with that, not what you have in mind.”

Without releasing my eyes, he dips his head and nibbles my shoulder where it connects to my neck. “I just want to gaze at your gorgeous face when I come inside you.”

The hot liquid flooding my sex must be a result of his lips on me. I refuse to believe it has anything to do with his words, or the heat in his stare. These are part of his practiced act. He’s a player out to prove his power over my senses. I must remember that.

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