Page 159 of Disarm
“And I’m yours,” I add, low and possessive. “Say it.”
His fingers curl in the waistband of my jeans. “You’re mine,” he whispers. Then again, stronger. “You’re fuckingmine, Miguel.”
The way he says my name—wrecked and reverent and a little desperate.
I kiss him again, swallowing the sound he makes. My hands roam all along his ribs, his stomach, and the curve of his waist. He arches up into every touch, chasing it, craving it.
“Take these off,” I say, tugging at his sweats.
He lifts his hips and I drag them down, underwear with them, slow enough to tease but fast enough that he whines. The second he’s bare, I settle between his thighs, palms sliding up the inside of them, spreading him open.
He shudders.
I look up at him, voice dropping to a growl. “This is mine. All of it.”
His eyes flutter. “Miggy…”
“You did so fucking well tonight,” I murmur, kissing the inside of his knee, then higher. “Talking to him and standing your ground. I could’ve taken you on that table.”
He lets out a strangled sound.
“I didn’t,” I add, kissing the sharp ridge of his hip bone. “But I thought about it.”
His hand flies to my hair and clenches.
“Please,” he whispers.
I lower my mouth and kiss him where he’s swollen and flushed and already leaking for me. He moans, quiet but desperate, hips jerking up.
“Oh my God—Miggy?—”
I pin his hips to the bed with my forearm and suck him deeper, slowly at first, then harder, taking him until my throat aches and his thighs are shaking under my hands.
He tries to warn me. “Miggy, I’m—fuck, I’m… I can’t.”
I hum around him, and he breaks. His back arches, his hand fists the sheets, and the other is still in my hair. He comes hard, with a choked gasp, thighs trembling around my shoulders as he pulses his cum down my throat. I ride every second of it, slow him down carefully, and kiss the inside of his hip when he collapses back onto the mattress.
He’s breathless. Flushed. Beautiful.
I climb up over him again, caging him in with my body. His hands slide up my arms, gripping my biceps, grounding himself.
“Get on your back,” he whispers, trying to tug me down.
“Not tonight,” I say, brushing my thumb over the corner of his mouth. “Not after what you went through. Tonight, I take care of you.”
His eyes soften, then darken. “I want you,” he whispers. “I need you inside me. I want to feel you—please.”
I close my eyes for one second because his begging does something catastrophic to me. Then I grab him by the hips and flip him gently onto his stomach, kissing the back of his shoulder.
“You’ll feel me,hermoso,” I murmur against his skin. “Everywhere.”
That earns me a whimper.
I trail kisses down his spine, slow and hot, until he’s shaking again. “Fuck. Do you have any lube?”
Caleb looks over his shoulder at me and nudges his head toward the foot of the bed. “Inside my duffel.”
“Look at you being prepared.” I kiss his hair and hop off the bed to grab it. “Gold star, pretty boy.”
