Page 69 of Switch Hitter

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I just love you.”

Then he stands, kisses me hard, and commands, “Turn over.”

“What?”

Emiliano gives me half a second to move. When I don’t pull away, he grips my hips and rolls me onto my stomach like it’s nothing. He presses me down into the mattress, cheek to the sheets, with my ass up.

The position hits like a memory.

Dugout.

Chain-link.

His voice in my ear.

He leans over me and murmurs, “You like it like this. Me behind you, fucking this—” Smack. “—perfect ass of yours until you moan my name.”

“Fuck you,” I bite out.

Emiliano laughs softly. “That’s the plan.”

He strips the rest of the way, and then I hear him spit into his palm. His hand slides between my cheeks, slicking me up with slow, deliberate strokes.

I shudder.

“Relájate,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Fuck.” I writhe against the bed, his two fingers buried to the second knuckle. “Mili, please…”

“You ready for me so soon?” he breathes, his voice hot against my neck. “You ready for your boyfriend to put his dick in your ass?”

“Yes,” I moan. “Lube. It’s in the drawer.”

He pauses and slides the drawer open, taking out the travel pack of wipes and bottle of lube I stashed in there earlier. He clicks the lid open and lets the liquid drip between my cheeks, then I hear him stroke himself a few times before he pushes in.

Slowly.

“Ahh, fuck… oh God.” My breath punches out. I grip the sheets, teeth sinking into my lip. Emiliano’s hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back just enough to make me feel owned.

“Ahí estás,” he whispers. “Good boy… taking me so prettily.”

I try to argue, but it just turns into a broken sound, and he starts moving, slow at first, dragging it out like he wants me to feel every inch of him.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans. “Siempre… acting like you hate me, but your body…” He thrusts deeper. “Tu cuerpo me quiere.”

I pant, my voice shaking. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” he throws back, and then he drives in harder.

The bed creaks underneath us, and my whole spine shudders.

Emiliano laughs low against my ear. “There’s that mouth.”

I flip him off without looking. He catches my wrist and pins it to the mattress. My pulse jumps, but not from fear.

“Mine,” he murmurs. “Because I love you. Because I want you. Mine, like, I can’t imagine my life without you.”

His pace tightens, hard and controlled. The kind of pace that has my vision blurring and my pride splintering. He reaches around, wraps his hand around my cock, and strokes in time with his thrusts.