Mi Carino (18 page)

“
I’m looking at you. That’s all, Marcella.” He ran the back of his fingers over the side of her face in a soft stroke, captured her chin, and tilted her head back so he could lock eyes with her once more. “I told you, Marcella. I see you.”

She stood and faced him. “What do you see? You don’t know me, not really. We end up here. It’s physical. Dinner was great. You…you look and smell…great.” She swallowed. “You touch me and it’s hard not to touch you back. You’re very charming Diego, but I still don’t trust how easy this is.”

“
What’s wrong with easy? I know you’re smart, talented.” His eyes lowered to her chest. He moistened his lips. “And sexy. So, so sexy. I know you want me just as much as I want you. It’s in your eyes, beautiful
.
”
He moved a loose curl from her face, replacing it with the others that ran along the side.  

“
I see you, Marcella. The soulful beauty of your eyes as they dissolve into rings of amber around the irises when you’re aroused like me. And your lips get plump. Full.” He touched them as his face came in so slow that her vision blurred and her eyes crossed before they closed. He pressed his lips to hers and he bit her lower lip, delivering a sting as his thumb and forefinger skimmed down her neck. “Your breathing is rapid too. Like this. Breathe for me.”

Marcella concentrated on her breathing, but found it hard. He was right. Her lungs now burned for air as her pulse raced.

“
And your nipples are hard,
muy sabroso.
” He cupped her breasts, lifted them in his hands. Marcella finally did inhale as a current went through her body shocking her heart to beat again. “It’s like they’re begging for me to touch them, suck them, lick them.” He lowered one hand and it went around her waist then up the center of her back to the nape of neck. His fist filled with her thick locks and he tugged. The force made her head drop back, her breasts restrained by her bra and shirt, jutted upward. He took the left one in his mouth soaking her shirt and her panties in the process.

Diego was right. Her body responded as he whispered in Spanglish. Her nipples grew tight making the bundled nerves peak and then explode with sensations that warmed her chest and flooded her body with a lustful longing to get on him, all over him, and quick. She had to put a stop to it. She had to find a way to get out before the next move took her under for good and she’d be the ‘U-Type’ girl. Even more sinful and contrary to her independent lifestyle, she could envision becoming the submissive she secretly longed to be. It was crazy. “I can’t do this. I can’t.” Marcella opened her eyes, pushing at his shoulders, refusing surrender. “I can’t.”

The rejection forced him to release her nipple. His eyes flashed hot and defiant when they met hers. “Yes, you can.” Diego ripped her blouse open, popping several buttons. Marcella gasped, finding his aggression hot. His arm closed around her waist as one powerful thigh pushed between her legs, forcing them apart so he could rub against her sex. “Put your arms around my neck.”

The harsh demand sliced through the fog of resistance immobilizing her. Marcella’s arms slowly lifted to his neck. She was doing the opposite of her rational mind, ignoring all the flashing warning signs.

“
Bueno.”
He groaned at her weakening.

She clung to him. His erection became more profound through his trousers. Her legs quivered and her nipples melted. Surrender was inevitable, and proven true when his lips crushed hers, as his hands gathered up the back of her skirt, drawing it all the way to her waist. Pleasurable heat flared around her ass while his fingers massaged and gripped her tightly down there. Her breath shuddered out and her eyes closed as their tongues tangled in a kiss full of heat, passion, and hunger.

Diego shocked her further, snatching down on her gossamer lace g-string, ripping it from her hips. She gasped, on the verge of coming apart. His tongue left her mouth to caress along the stretch of her neck. “You’re so ready.” He groaned, fingering her, his thumb pressed against her already swollen clitoris, anticipating his entry.  He stroked it until she was near begging for release, her hips rolling against his hand, two fingers deeply tunneling.

He withdrew grabbed her by the arms and turned her, leading her toward the bed. She bent over landing on her hands. Marcella gasped, her head bowed, his feet kicking hers apart with her skirt flipped up over her back.

The zipper to the front of his pants lowered. The thick head of his member brushed her opening as his open palm stroked her hips to ready her. Marcella whimpered, wishing he’d just take her. Diego either read her mind or felt it too. He plunged with a single thrust. She gripped the sheets as her channel stretched to accommodate him, thrust after thrust. Marcella arched her hips and withstood his rapid strikes.

Marcella choked out short gasps and grunts, her nails digging into the duvet, the padded softness gathering into her tightening fist. She worked it, moving back against him, rising on her toes to take him deep. He gripped her, his nails biting into her hip. He fucked her harder and harder until her knees buckled and she nearly broke down in orgasmic sobs.

Diego withdrew without ejaculating and she collapsed on the bed. But he pulled her back up, literally holding and turning her to face him. “Look at me,” he ordered.

Marcella’s lids fluttered open to see him watching her in a dark feverish manner. She could not escape. Her legs were jelly and her heart was hammering in her chest. Remnants of the climax buzzed in her ears.  “You’re mine. All mine.
Mi tierna
flower
. Do you hear me, Marcella? Do you understand?” he lifted her in his arms. She had no fight left in her. Her body remained limp and her vagina throbbed as she almost begged for more. She ached so desperately between her legs for all of him. Then she lay on the bed and he covered her before she could register the action. Trapped beneath him, her legs naturally fit around his waist. Her skirt pushed all the way up. His suspenders lowered and his trousers slipped to his hips. The blunt head of his penis pressed against the folds of her pussy. “Now, you tell me what you want, and I will give it to you, but you must ask for it so I know. I need to know how you like it because…because, Marcella, I do like it, when you submit.” He said in a hoarse whisper, barely heard over the sound of her pounding heart. “Tell me. Say it!”

“
I want you.” She managed to say, her sanity overwhelmed by the need clawing at her gut threatening to break free. He thrust in her once more. The slickness of her recent climax eased his reentry this time, but she was still tender, and it remained difficult to withstand his fullness once more. He had her pinned and so open to receive him. She sobbed inwardly, bucking underneath in a weak attempt to hold on to her last thread of self-control.  

The rest of her unraveled quick. She shook her head from side to side, her mouth frozen in an open cry for mercy as he thrust repeatedly, ravishing her until her body obliged him and he was lodged so deep in her she couldn’t breathe. The brutal pleasure intensified and she gave a moan of defeat. 

“
Shhh.” He whispered, sensing her inner conflict of turning over all of herself to him. “Don’t fight it. We’re beyond that now.” He increased his intensity more and more, his forehead pressed to hers. He kept with the tormenting rhythm bumping the place inside of her he knew would trigger the orgasm she held back. It roared up and she cried out breaking down under a tidal wave of beautiful sensations. He shouted out his own release as he emptied inside of her.

“
Are you okay?” he asked. His breathing was harsh, his penis still firm inside of her. She closed her eyes and nodded. He moved off of her. Immediately she drew down her skirt and covered her chest. Diego didn’t bother to cover his penis. He rolled over sucking in deep breaths.

He looked over at her, disappointed by her silence. “Marcella.”

“
Can I shower?” she asked softly.

“
I have things for you, a robe and things in the bathroom. You stay. We stay here,” he panted.

She looked over at him as if offended by the request.

 “
Why do you look at me like that?”

“
Stay? You had this planned from the beginning?”

Diego turned over on his side. He laid his hand over her flat stomach. She loosened her hand over her blouse. “I’m sorry for the way I was, for ripping your shirt, for behaving this way. I guess I got…” his eyes lifted to hers. “Excited. You excite me, Marcella. So it can’t all be my fault. Can it?” he touched her chin. “Can it?”

“
No, I suppose not.”

“
I want to do things to you, with you. I want you to stay with me, for now, until…until we can’t take anymore.”

“
How did you know?” she asked in a pitifully soft voice, weak from exhaustion and hoarse from her silent screams of pleasure.

“
Know what, beautiful?”

“
That I needed this. I needed someone like you?”

Diego smiled. “Let me shower with you and show you again.” 

He rose and pulled her along. She came off the bed with him. Her hair damp at the roots and her makeup smeared. It made her even more tasty and sexy. He could never tire of her, of the game.

Marcella wiped her hand over the vanity mirror. Her reflection emerged, hair limp to her shoulders, face cleaned free of make-up. She looked not much different than any other time. The robe he gave her was a perfect fit. She tightened the sash to it.

The shower was as exhausting as making love to him in bed. Still she craved more. She craved him. She closed her eyes and sighed. She felt the tendrils of feelings reaching out and clinging to him invisibly. Sensibility said it was ridiculous to feel it, but she did.

“
Marcella, what are you doing, girl?” she said aloud. “Stop it right now!”

Refusing to look herself in the eye, once more, she backed out of the bathroom to join him. He wasn’t in the bedroom. She frowned at the sight of a bed with fresh linens, crisply made. He had folded her clothes and placed them neatly in a chair, her shoes resting on top of the folds. The evidence of the scene in this room, just hours before, was gone leaving not a trace. Marcella pondered over his self-control. There had to be a story there. The place felt like an icebox without him near. So without hesitation she went in search of him, her feet sinking in the fluffy carpet of the bedroom then going over the cool hardwood floors. The moon became the spotlight over the rooms guiding her under silvery luminance, offering enough visibility to make out the course. Soon her curiosity drew her to the living room. Her head turned and she saw him. Outside the veranda doors staring up at the dark sky Diego stood, wearing only black pajama pants in the cool night. The tanned perfection of his skin sculpted his muscles nicely. His dark coal black hair was slicked over his head from their shower.

She walked toward him slowly shivering from the cold seeping through the closed doors. How could he stand it?

Diego looked over his shoulder and their eyes met.

Marcella froze under his gaze. He drew open the door and cold wind washed over her forcing her to retreat a step. He extended his hand. “Come here.”

She forced her legs to move. Arms crossed before her she walked on her toes bravely toward him. Marcella shivered hard. She felt the cold planks of wood under her feet. “It’s freezing,” she stammered.

Once out of the doors he pulled her directly to him, wrapping his arms around her and turning her toward the balcony. Even on the main level they were perched against a cliff that gave them a view of the ocean several feet below them. And of course her moon had reappeared. A soft smile curled the corners of her mouth upward. She focused on how wonderfully swollen with beauty it stood out, with bright stars like rhinestones on black velvet.