Page 53 of My Spanish Love Affair

The way that Santi kisses me has my head spinning, and I hum in approval as he grips my ass tighter and lifts his hips against mine. I giggle as he hisses sharply.

“Fuck, Olivia - I need you now.”

Before I can overthink it, I snake my hand between our bodiesand brush my fingertips over the waistband of his jeans. His taut abdomen sucks in as he inhales a quick breath, and I bite down on my bottom lip as Santi raises his hips away from mine so that I can tug the dark material down his thighs.

His brilliant green eyes flutter to a close as I wrap my hand around the exposed length of his thick cock, and I can’t help but feel at least a little proud of the way that his lips part and his eyes squeeze tightly when I pump my hand up and down his length.

Encouraged by his laboured breaths, I continue with my ministrations, catching the little signs - his strong jaw clenching, his brow furrowing, his breath hitching - to establish what he likes, what he needs more of. His green eyes blink open into my own when I twist my hand and swipe my thumb over the damp head of his cock, and Santi moves to wrap his own hand around mine, effectively halting me from continuing.

His breath is raspier than I’ve heard it before.

“Olivia, you’ve got to stop,” he says. “If you -” he hisses as my thumb brushes against the weeping head of his cock before my hand lowers. “Fuck.If you want this to last, then you’ve got to stop.”

I’m far too overcome with lust and desire to think about anything other than having him inside me, feeling him fill me from this position, and I press an eager kiss to his mouth as I hook my fingers against my panties and pull them over to the side.

The sound of the material stretching meets my ears and I grin wickedly against his mouth as he lines himself up at my entrance.

We gasp together as Santi pushes inside, my arousal more than enough lubricant to allow him to easily slide in. He can’t fill meat once, though - my clenching walls won’t allow it - and my hands move to bury themselves into his thick, mussed hair as he slowly pulls his hips back before pushing forwards again.

He rocks against me several times, moving carefully until he has filled me completely. His lips ghost over my jawline, peppering kisses to my skin at random.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice deep and low. “Like you were fucking made for me.”

He emphasises his words with a strong thrust of his hips, his grip tightening on the flesh of my ass. I feel utterly delirious as Santi fucks me against the wall of his locker room, here in the middle of this open space that anyone could walk into at any given moment.

It feels so,sowrong, but Santi’s right - the knowledge that we could be caught makes it all the more exciting.

I know I’m unlikely to find my release given the rushed pace of our movements - urgency, want and sheer need blatantly present in every snap of his hips against mine - but just having this is more than pleasurable enough for me.

He uses his hold on me to practically bounces my body up and down on his cock, moving me with an ease that makes me question just how strong this man is.

My hands cling desperately to his shoulders as he increases the pace of his thrusts, and I circle my hips a little, trying my best to participate where I can and not just hang here against the wall.

His thick, muscular thighs seem to give a little at that - as if he wasn’t expecting the movement, nor his body’s reaction to it - so I repeat it again, circling my hips on his cock as he pounds into me.

He’s close. I can tell by the way his jaw clenches and his bluntfingernails dig tightly into my ass cheeks.

I hiss loudly as he tilts his hips upwards, altering the angle of his thrusts and causing me to fist my hands into the collar of his shirt as I seek something to ground me in this moment.

I close the distance between us with a desperate kiss, and Santi licks into my mouth with equal enthusiasm. His breath hitches one final time before he empties himself deep inside me with a long, low grunt that comes from the back of his throat, his face falling into the crook of my neck as his breath comes out in ragged pants.

I raise one of my hands to the back of his head so that I can gently drag my fingernails over his scalp, smiling softly despite myself as I move to rest my cheek against the side of his head.

All is quiet and peaceful around us, only the faint hum of the lights and the soft sounds of our breaths mingling filling the air of the locker room.

But then, faintly, I hear the distant sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor.

I stiffen, my head snapping toward the door, the sound sending a jolt of panic through me.

“Santi, someone’s coming,” I whisper urgently, my voice barely audible.

He doesn’t move right away, his forehead still resting on my shoulder, his lips brushing lightly against the curve of my neck. His hands are firm beneath me, holding me up effortlessly. It’s almost as if the sound of approaching footsteps doesn’t faze him in the slightest despite my own panic.

“Santi,” I hiss, my voice sharper now, but before I can say another word, one of his hands leaves my ass and gently covers my mouth.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

The sound is so soft, so intimate, and it sends a shiver down my spine despite the growing tension in the air.

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