Page 44 of Miguel

My arms wrapped around her shoulders instead, my body molding against hers. She wiggled and the next sigh she released was content. Her nose buried into the crook where my neck met my shoulder and she inhaled.

“Buenas noches, nena,” I whispered against the top of her caremelo hair.

“Buenas noches, Señor Lopez.”

“Miguel,” I corrected.

Lorena didn’t respond.

She was already asleep.

Lorena’s groan woke me.

My eyes shot open, my heart pounding overtime against my ribcage as I battled sleep, as my mind caught up to the sound. The sense of danger diminished when she groaned a second time. What I thought had been fear, pain, was something else.

She let out another low moan, followed by a deep sigh. Her body pressed close to mine, her hips rubbing against my leg as if searching for friction.

My entire body stiffened and the breath got caught in my lungs.

Lorena sighed once again, soft mewling noises of frustration and satisfaction releasing as she rubbed her lower body against mine.

I took a peek down at her face. I could only imagine what it was she dreamt, what bled through her consciousness that made her seek me out in the middle of the night, rubbing her body against mine as she sought release.

For a moment I was immobile, watching her sleep-kissed expression, the furrow of her brows, the way her plump lips parted in the dimly lit room and the sounds of pleasure that shot straight to my cock. All I had to do was turn my body, angle myself in a way so her heated center rubbed up against my shaft. So we could both feel the pleasure she searched for.

But I forced myself not to do anything drastic. Only pressing my leg up a fraction, letting it slide tighter between her legs. A satisfied sound left her and she began riding my leg in earnest. Her hips rolled against me, faster and faster, her lush body squeezing against mine as she gave herself what she needed. As she used my body like I was a toy meant for her pleasure.

The thought of that made me unbearably hard within the confines of my sweats. It pulsed with the burning desire to be tugged and fucked, but I didn’t slip my hand between my waistband like I wanted to. I was too enraptured with her expression. As her dream-self fucked, as her sleeping-self went in search of the high of release.

I knew the exact moment it hit her.

Her mouth parted in a perfect, plump O on a silent cry and her eyes shot open. She gave a full-body shudder that rattled me down to my bones. A second later, she seemed to realize exactly what had happened, what she’d done.

Her body seized as she tried to push away from me. Panic chased away whatever traces of sleepiness lived in her gaze.

“Miguel,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry, I don’t–I was–”

My arms snapped out, locking around her waist and pulling her closer to me. Before she could put distance between us, before she could regret what I’d so readily allowed her to do, I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing her in.

“Were you dreaming about my cock, nena?” My voice was rougher than I expected.

“Miguel, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t apologize for finding your pleasure against me.” My palm spanned across the curvature of her hip, fingers toying with the edge of her pajama bottoms. I toyed in between the spot where the material met her skin, finding her hot, fevered.

She groaned, hips twitching as they pressed tighter against my leg once again. The dream hadn’t been enough. She needed–wanted–more. And I wanted to give it to her.

I slipped a finger inside the waist of her pajamas.

“You can use me if you want. Ride my leg, face, or cock whenever you want release.” I slipped a second finger in. She whimpered and the sound went straight through me. “You can use me to feel good.” I slid another finger inside, teasing the edge of her panties before I slid inside those as well. I teased along the curls, sliding down another fraction. To have her so close, yet so far, was maddening. “Or, I can make you feel good. If you’ll let me.”

Her fingers grasped for my shoulders and pulled. She used my body to pull herself up, to shift her hips and angle herself in a way that put her heat directly against my fingers. I hovered close but didn’t touch. Even when she mewled and buried her face in the crook of my neck.

“Do you want to feel good, nena?”

She nodded vigorously against me.

“I need your words. I need you to tell me what you want. Dímelo. Dime lo que quieres.”

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