Page 81 of My Spanish Love Affair

“Maybe?” he echoes. “I think we can do better than maybe.”

Before I can respond, his hands are on me again, sliding over my waist and pulling me closer until my bare skin is flush against his. The heat of his body is intoxicating, the feel of his hard muscles under my fingertips sending shivers down my spine.

I smile to myself as his lips lock around one of my nipples whilst his fingers play with the other. My hips shift instinctively, rubbing against him in search of delicious friction.

“You were staring,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

“Can you blame me?” I whisper back, running my hands over the expanse of his chest, feeling the strength beneath his skin. “You’re... ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” he asks, leaning away from my breasts just enough to look up at me, amusement flickering in his green eyes.

“Yes,” I say, my hands moving up to his shoulders, tracing the curve of his biceps. “Completely, unfairly ridiculous.”

He laughs, the sound deep and warm, before pulling me back into another kiss.

This one is slower, but no less intense, and I feel my heart race as his hands slide up my back. His touch is firm yet gentle, possessive yet reverent, and I practically melt into him.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs against my lips. “Every part of you.”

His lips travel down my neck, his hands sliding lower to grip my hips, and I realise just how easy it is to lose myself in him: in his touch, his strength, his overwhelming presence.

But as much as I feel consumed by him, I also feel something else.

Safe.

With Santi, I don’t feel the need to hold back, to protect myself from the possibility of being hurt.

With Santi, everything feels right. Natural, even.

Like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

All of this kissing and teasing and light touching has worked me into a frenzy, and I hurry to remove my bottom layers as he does the same. Once I’ve discarded my clothing, I scramble back onto his lap, returning to my previous position of straddling his hips and groaning in pleasure at the feel of his thick cock being lined up against my core.

“Need you inside me,” I breathe, my eyes locking onto his. “Now.”

His blunt nails bury themselves into the flesh of my ass in response, and I grind myself down against his hard length, lubricating him with the evidence of my arousal. I can’t help but moan as I feel his cock twitch beneath me, and his large hands continue to knead at my perky flesh as I hover above him.

I reach down, wrapping my hand around the base of his cock asI lift my hips up in order to line him at my entrance -

But then he stops me, lowering his hips so that he’s just out of reach.

I frown, confused at his rejection, but he simply smirks as he falls back against the couch so that he’s laying down on his back and looking directly up at me.

“Come here,” he says. I blink from where I’m hovering over him, entirely clueless as to what it is he wants. “Comehere,” he emphasises, reaching out to grab at my hips, and my eyes widen in understanding.

Oh.

My cheeks flush as I scoot further up his body until I’m essentially straddling his muscular chest, balancing my weight on my thighs. I’m nervous at the thought of putting all of my weight onto him, but Santi doesn’t seem concerned about that in the least; not as his large arms hook beneath my legs and stretch me apart, pulling my pussy practically wide open and right in front of his face.

There’s no time for me to feel embarrassed about it, though; not when he takes my cheeks in each of his large, tanned hands and yanks me even closer without further warning.

A small noise of surprise escapes my throat as he does, though before I can actually process what’s going on, his tongue caresses my wet slit and swirls over my clit in one long, drawn-out movement.

Santi lets out a pleasurable sound that comes from low in his throat and goes straight to my clit, and I tense above him as his hot breath fans over my core.

My abdomen clenches and relaxes as he laps enthusiastically at me, his tongue trailing over every exposed inch, and I force myself to watch him through hooded lids. His own green eyeslift to mine, and the corners of his mouth curve upwards in a knowing smirk as his tongue continues to swirl and dance over me.

“Fuck, Santi - that feels so good,” I whimper, fighting the urge to close my eyes and toss my head back.

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