Page 54 of My Spanish Love Affair

His green eyes lock onto mine, and even in the dim light, I can see the glint of amusement mixed with something darker.

“Stay still,” he whispers, his voice low and steady. “And don’t make a sound.”

My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure whoever is in the corridor must hear it, but I nod slowly, my pulse racing as I do what he says.

We stay frozen like that: him holding me against the wall, one hand now splayed across my lower back to keep me steady, the other covering my mouth. His body remains pressed close to mine, all warm and strong and solid as he continues to pin me against the wall.

The footsteps grow louder, each one echoing in the quiet, and I hold my breath as the sound moves closer.

My eyes dart toward the door, but Santi doesn’t so much as glance away from me for even a moment. His gaze stays fixed on mine, and I cringe as the footsteps pause just outside the locker room door.

My entire body goes rigid. My fingers clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging through the material of his shirt as my mind races with every worst-case scenario.

The thought of someone coming in here and finding us in such a compromising position is embarrassing, of course, but it’s also damning for Santi.

This is highly unprofessional, and I worry about how much his career would be damaged if he were to be found with his jeans halfway down his thighs, his cock out for all to see - oh, and just to top it off, a woman pinned to the wall whilst straddling his hips.

Santi’s hand gently shifts from my mouth to my jaw, his thumb brushing soothingly against my cheek.

“Relax,” he mouths.

Relax? Is he serious?!

Given that I’m currently pinned against his team’s locker room wall with my panties shoved to one side and his cum leaking out of my freshly-fucked vagina while someone stands right outside, I amanythingbut relaxed.

The handle of the door rattles slightly, and my breath catches in my throat. My nails dig further into his shirt as I brace myself for the worst; but then, the sound of the footsteps resumes, retreating back down the corridor.

We stay frozen for a moment longer, listening as the sound fades into nothingness.

When it’s clear the coast is finally clear, I let out a shaky exhale, my hands unclenching and releasing the material of his shirt as I rest my palms flat against his taut chest.

“That was way too close,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

Santi chuckles softly, his fingers brushing against the small of my back.

“Told you it would make it more exciting.”

I swat at his arm, my cheeks flushing.

“This isn’t funny, Santi. Someone almost walked in on us.”

“And yet, they didn’t,” he says. “Admit it: you enjoyed the thrill.”

“Can you put me down now?” I mutter, though my voice lacks conviction.

“Hmm,” he muses, tilting his head as if considering. “I could. But I like you right where you are.”

“Santi,” I warn, though the soft laugh that escapes me ruins the effect.

He finally relents, lowering me gently to the ground, his hands lingering at my waist as I steady myself.

As I pull my panties back into place, smooth my dress and glance toward the door again, I can’t help but feel like I’ve just stepped off a rollercoaster: breathless, exhilarated and slightly unsteady.

“Next time,” I say, shooting him a pointed look, “we’re not doing this anywhere near your workplace. Understood?”

He seems to be completely unbothered by the near-miss.

“Noted, profesora. But don’t act like it wasn’t worth it.”

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