Page 42 of My Spanish Love Affair

I whimper as he pounds into me with emphasised force, a brutal rhythm that is as punishing as it is pleasurable.

“Want me to come inside of your tight pussy, Olivia?” I nod. “Say it.”

“I want it,” I tell him. “I want you to come inside of me, Santi. Please. Please, give it to me.”

Santi adjusts the angle of the snap of his hips ever so slightly, reaching an impossibly deeper spot within me.

I gasp at the sensation, my eyes squeezing tightly to a close, everything just becoming too much, too overwhelming.

I can tell that he’s close – so painfully close – and he leans forward, suckling on my lower lip before panting against my mouth.

“You ready?” he presses, and I nod my head quickly as I chase his lips. “You want it, now?”

“God, yes,” I hum. “I don’t just want it, Santi, I need it.I’m on the pill, I -please.”

“Whatever -” he pants, his large hands moving to hoist beneath my knees and part my legs impossibly wider for him.

The change of position admittedly stings a little, but I can handle it.

I’ll take anything if he’s the one that’s giving.

“Whatever you want, you’ll get,” he finishes.

“Santi, do it,” I practically beg. I’m beyond overwhelmed by the feeling of him stretching me as far as I can go, and the slappingsound of flesh on flesh fills the room. I’m overcome with the need to have him fill me entirely. “Please.Please. Give it to me, Santi. I need to feel it - need you to come for me,now-”

His whole body goes rigid and still from where he hovers above me, and then Santi empties his release deep inside of me with a long, low grunt.

His face falls into the crook of my neck, and his damp mop of dark hair tickles my chin, but I don’t mind at all. In fact, I practically revel in the feeling of him being so close.

For a short while, we stay like that; the pair of us half-dressed with my dress bunched up around my hips and his pants pulled halfway down his thighs. I almost can’t believe that we didn’t make it to fully undressing ourselves, but when I think of how much tension there’s been building up between us since that night on the terrace, I’m only half surprised.

Santi trembles slightly, and once his body stills completely, he pulls his hips back so that his softening length is no longer buried to the hilt inside me.

Our chests heave in synchronisation as he rolls away so that he’s next to me, the pair of us absolutely spent. Our arms brush as we lay next to one another in my bed, and with flushed cheeks, I chance a glance in his direction.

He’s looking right back at me, and I can’t help but break out into a wide smile.

“I can’t believe that we just did that,” I whisper.

“Me neither,” he murmurs back, his breathing still a little laboured and green eyes full of wonder.

He opens out his arms a little, and despite how warm I am, I gladly accept his silent invitation to come closer. I roll over so that I’m able to rest my head against his sculpted chest and I relax further into him as I listen to the steady thrum of hisheartbeat.

His large hand finds mine, our fingers lacing together, and I can’t remember the last time I felt so content, so... at peace.

I feel myself begin to drift, but then his quiet voice breaks the comfortable silence that had settled over us.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Olivia,” he says.

I lift my head to look at him, his words wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

“Good different or bad different?” I ask.

My tone may be light, but my heart is hammering as I await his answer.

“Definitely good,” he replies, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “The kind of different I didn’t know I needed.”

I smile, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before settling back against him.

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