My throat squeezes, barely withholding a swallow. “Can we at least smoke before you fuck me senseless?”
Because that’s exactly what he did last night, and if the determination I feel oozing off of him says anything at all, it’s that tonight will be worse.
In all the best ways possible.
Maybe.
“While I fuck you senseless, yes.” Releasing me, he reaches into his back pocket and produces a freshly rolled blunt. A lighter, too. “Here, spark it.”
He’s on his feet after that, towering over me as he begins undoing his pants. I’m instantly entranced, bringing the blunt to my lips in a rapt state. A flick of the lighter, and I’m watching his little show behind the flame, taking that first, welcoming long pull.
I could get used to this…
A perfect billow of smoke whirls from the cigar’s end, then from my lips as I let my hit—and my thoughts—go. Another quick pull and I’m passing it off, eyes following his pants as they fall to the carpeted floor with a clink from his belt.
Taking our little stress reliever, he motions up and down the length of my body, the slightest tip of his chin. “Your turn. Take it all off.”
“Same goes for you,” I counter, making it a point to stare at his briefs as I work on the buttons of my uniform blouse. “All of it.”
Ángel glances downward, then back at me, that cocky-ass smirk slithering on his face. Pressing the blunt between his lips, he hooks his thumbs beneath the thick waistband and drops the garment, leaving him deliciously naked. My mouth waters. His body alone is drool-worthy—inked and finely cut in all the right places. But, his dick? That thing is what fantasies are made of: long, hard, and thick.
He’s not even rock hard yet, and it’s past the point of impressive.
“How am I naked already, but you’re not?” Two streams of smoke billow from his nose, interlocking our gazes anew.
Because I was too busy drooling.
I shrug, stare fixated as ever, and force myself to move. Rising onto my feet, I shrug the cotton material off my shoulders. The fitted black slacks go next, then the bra.
"Almost there, bella. Keep going," he rasps, his voice thick and gravelly.
The way he’s looking at me right now… Jesus Christ. He's fascinated, engrossed in my little striptease, of sorts. The world could end right now, and I suspect he wouldn’t care.
My nipples pebble under his scrutiny, rousing me further into action. I could just drop my panties right there and be done with it—could being the keyword—but suddenly, I feel compelled to drive him crazy.
Crazier than he’s making me.
It’s only fair...
Dropping back onto the bed, I maneuver my way out of the tiny garment and make a show of flicking it onto the ground. My legs, though? I keep them crossed with purpose, the one thing he wants to see hidden from his line of sight.
And as always, he knows exactly what I'm doing, giving me that particular heated look as he ambles closer, taking another hit from the blunt. "Open.”
A demand, one I’d normally respond to in an instant, but I hold my ground, shaking my head coyly as I lean back onto my elbows, my lips curling deviously.
One of his dark brows arches. “Benita…” he warns, his gaze flicking to my legs. “Open. Let me see that pretty little pussy.”
Oh, you’ll see it all right.
Propping my toes onto the edge of the bed, I snake a hand between my legs and dip a finger inside. I’m wet as hell, and I’m about to make myself even wetter while he watches. In and out, I lazily fuck myself with just that one finger, digging it in deep and pulling it back out. A few more strokes, and I drag my essence up to my clit, teasing the ever-loving crap out of us both. They’re painfully slow circles, but they leave me breathless nonetheless, all the more anxious for what’s about to—
"Goddamn." Ángel licks his lips and pushes my legs apart, swatting my hand away as his stare tracks every inch of me spread out for him. "So wet for me already, mami... And then you wonder why I’m so obsessed with you.”
"No, I get it..." I'm shamelessly staring at his dick as I say this, all but chomping at the bit to take him in my mouth and torture him some more. "I can relate."
My response triggers him in a way I wasn’t expecting. His movements are so lithe and quick, I nearly miss them. One minute he’s between my legs, and the next he’s got me on top of him, holding me steady just over the head of his cock. "You see? You're openly admitting that you want me. You do realize that, right?"
"I never said I didn't. What you're asking me for, though, is..."
"No different than what we're doing right now, other than you being mine. And what I mean by that is—yo no comparto, Benni. Si eres mia, eres mia solamente. Entiendes?"
"I don't share, either," I firmly supply as I snatch the cigar from him because I need him to know that if I ever give in to this thing—whether it’s right now or six months from now—I don't share. He's either mine, period, or none at all.
Chuckling, he drops me a ways more as I’m hitting the blunt, enough for the very tip to breach my lips. It’s freaking torture. "Is it bad that I want to see your claws come out?"
"Yes,” I exhale, rolling my hips to suck him in deeper. “Because it won't fare well for the puta on the receiving end."
Ángel hums around a satisfied smile and squeezes my cheeks, licking hungrily into my mouth. “Malita. Always ready for something.”
“I have to be. Can’t trust nobody out here.”
“Do you trust me?” he questions, and much to my own surprise, I actually shake my head.
“No.”
“Good, you shouldn’t. I know I’m not good for you, not good enough for you, but I wanna be.” That’s when he drops me, his arm secure around my waist, slowly filling me to the hilt. “Give me a chance to earn your trust, to be enough, to be everything you need."
My breath stills, the heaviness of his words combined with the feeling of him stretching me out more than I can bear. The only reason my eyes don’t bulge from their sockets is because I clamp them shut as my head lolls back. “I can't just leave, Ángel.”
"That's the beauty of it…yes, you can.”
"I-I can't leave my mom," I argue, idly noting he’s taken the cigar from me again.
"We can come back whenever you want. You wanna fly through twice a month, we will. More than that? Done. Whatever you want, it’s yours."
"Please…” He’s hitting it as I right myself to look at him. “You're really going to rearrange your whole life just for me?"
His reply doesn’t come immediately. While holding in that last toke, he holds my stare for a fleeting beat before tossing the blunt into the ashtray on my nightstand. He’s fusing our lips after that, blowing the plume of smoke into my mouth as he rolls me onto my back.
He flexes his hips until he’s entirely embedded.
"I'm not rearranging shit, mami. I'm enhancing it."
Enhancing it? Shit, intensifying everything in tenfold, is more like it. I’m so full and suddenly so goddamn high, I swear I can feel him everywhere.