Page 67 of Diego

"That's it," he murmurs against my ear. "Let me hear you."

He does it again, a slow, shallow thrust. And again. And again.

He's still holding my hands above my head, but I don't try to fight him. I don't try to break free.

I just hold on.

I hold on as he sets a languid pace. Each thrust of his cock is a satisfying friction that sends sparks of pleasure through my body. Each drag of his chest against my nipples is a sweet torment.

There's no rush. No urgency. Just a steady yet maddening rhythm that builds a fire deep inside me, a slow burn in my belly that's quickly turning into an inferno. He rocks into me, and I rock my hips to meet him, and for a little while, that’s all that exists in the world. The bed, the two of us, the slow building pleasure.

He kisses me, deep and slow, mirroring the movements of our bodies with his tongue between my lips. I can't get enough of the taste of him, of the feel of him, of the scent of him.

He's everywhere.

I'm lost in the sensation, in the pleasure, in him.

"You feel so good," I moan against his lips. "So... oh, God..."

He hits a spot deep inside me, so damn good, that it steals my breath and the rest of my sentence. My eyes fly open, and my back arches.

"Found it, did I?" he says, the smug bastard.

But he does it again.

And again.

Each time, my body responds with a jolt of pleasure. I'm climbing, higher and higher, the slow burn now a raging fire.

My nails dig into my own palms, my hands still trapped in his. I want to touch him, to drag my nails down his back, to leave my mark on him, but he holds me fast.

I feel a wave of frustration, a desperate need for more, for something, I don't know what.

"Diego," I gasp, my voice hoarse.

"What is it, cara mia?" he asks, his lips trailing down my jaw, my neck. "Tell me what you want."

"Harder," I manage. "Right there."

He leverages himself onto his knees a bit, pushing his weight onto my legs more, keeping me splayed open and at his mercy.

With this new angle, he’s able to give me exactly what I asked for: harder. Right there. His thrusts are more forceful now, each one hitting that spot inside me with an accuracy that's both thrilling and a little bit terrifying. How does he know my body so well? How does he know exactly what I need, even when I don't?

But I only have a moment to think about it before my thoughts scatter. Because he’s let go of my hands and taken my hips in a strong grip to pull me into each thrust, meeting me halfway. The new position allows him to go deeper. So much deeper. He's in me so completely, it feels like he's a part of me.

I use one hand to brace myself on the headboard while the other goes between my legs, my fingers finding my clit.

He groans at the sight. "Yes. Touch yourself for me," he says. "You are a dream."

His praise sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and I rub faster, harder. I'm so close. I'm right there, teetering on the edge, so close I can taste it.

He knows it, too.

He shifts one of my legs, draping it over his shoulder. The new angle puts him deeper still, and my pussy tightens around him while I teeter on the edge.

"Come on my cock, Blair," he growls. "I want to feel that pussy gush for me." He slams into me, hard and fast, and that's it.

I shatter. My orgasm rips through me. A cry escapes my lips as my body convulses around him, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful. It's a never-ending wave of sensation, and I just let go, letting it wash over me, through me, until I'm nothing but a quivering, gasping mess.