before moving on to start again. It was torture pure and simple, and she hated it as much as she craved it with every fiber of her being.
“Don’t close your eyes, Gatita.”
She immediately obeyed, not wanting him to stop.
“Torres,” she moaned. “Please… Please” She could not formulate a sentence. She didn’t even know what she was asking for. She pulled down her pants and threw them in the corner along with her shirt and underwear. “Torres, I need to feel you.”
“Oh, you will,” he said, half his mouth rising in a crooked smile. Her heart momentarily forgot to beat. She loved his smile, his lopsided grin, always smirking, and his straight white teeth. “You’ll feel me here,” he said lowering his head to her breast. Beth’s breath caught. He flicked her nipple with his tongue before he took it in his mouth. When he sucked, another wave of sensation rocked her, taking her to another level. “And here,” he said as he took her other nipple between his teeth. He pressed down with just enough force to blur the lines of pain and pleasure. It took all her energy not to moan again. Her lips rocked against his, seeking relief, it would only take a few strokes and she would be coming, hard and fast, but Torres prevented her from moving. He was in control. She forced herself to take a deep breath and focus on each sensation, the heat of his breath, the sharp graze of his teeth, the rush of blood, the scratch of his stubble. With another deep breath, she relaxed into it. There was no need to rush with this. With her body, she trusted him completely. No matter what he did, it would feel good. He would push and tease and make her scream with frustration and desire, but he would always make her come. Beth didn’t trust most people, but she trusted Torres to make her feel good.
Torres licked his way down the valley between her breasts and over the plain of her stomach and then to the thatch of curls at the top of her thighs. He pushed her legs open until her knees rested against the white duvet. “And here, Gatita. You’re going to feel me here,” he promised.
She sucked in a sharp breath as his finger slid up her, parting her folds, exposing the throbbing point at her centre. Slowly he ran his finger up and down, admiring her. She didn’t dare try to shut her legs. She belonged to him, all of her. “Do you want me to kiss you here?” he asked.
There was no question, he was going to do it; the only uncertainty was if he would make her beg for it. She would, she was shameless when it came to Torres. There was no room for pride where he was concerned. But she wouldn’t need to beg tonight, because he wanted it as much as her. Torres had reached his point of no return too. She could tell because he had slipped into Spanish. The switch in language was involuntary; she doubted he even knew he did. When they had sex he always spoke Spanish to her, whether he was whispering praise or telling her all the ways he was going to defile her, it was always in Spanish. She would never tell him he did it, because he might stop, and it was one of her favorite things about going to bed with Torres, that and the full body orgasms that made her legs shake and her toes curl, those were nice too.
“Que linda,” he murmured. How beautiful. Beth wasn’t beautiful, she knew, she had a mirror, but to Torres she was and she feared for the safety of anyone who said differently.
The light above them was too bright. There was nowhere to hide, no dim lighting to soften her edges. It was just her spread open for him. She could close her eyes now, he wasn’t looking at her face, but she wouldn’t because she wanted to watch as his head lowered and his tongue found her clit. There was nothing as erotic as watching Torres lick her pussy, his dark head nestled between her pale thighs, the muscles of his broad shoulders contracting under tan skin, as his mouth worked to bring her to climax, the sight alone was enough to make her come.
His head lowered. Gently he licked her thighs, and then the delicate folds, and then the wet opening of her body. Her hips bucked as he made intimate contact. The sensation was almost too much and it was made greater by the feeling that he shouldn’t be doing it, it was too intimate, too personal. She would never consider doing it with anyone else, but nothing was off limits with Torres, there were no rules. His tongue darted in and out of her, making love to her with his mouth.
Her hands fisted in his hair. Higher, she needed him higher. She needed him to suck on her clit, just one stroke of his tongue. That is all she needed. He knew it but he wouldn’t do it, not until he was good and ready. If it were possible to die of desire, she would be six feet under.
Oh God she needed him higher. She arched her back, trying to reposition herself, open her body further to him. “Please, Torres,” she begged. Her hands fisted in his hair pulling his dark head higher. “Please.”
Torres raised his head. On his face was a lazy smile. He was enjoying this, making her suffer. He was a sadist. “Please what, Gatita? What do you want from me?”
“Make me come,” she begged.
“You know I will. When are you going to learn to trust me?” His smile was devious but his eyes were hooded with desire. This was torture for him too, he wanted to be inside her, but he was proving a point…a frustrating…erotic…exquisite point.
Her head fell to the side. This wasn’t an argument she would win.
Moments later, he returned to the top of her thighs.
She groaned. This might kill her. She needed to come soon, the pressure that built was nearing painful but he was keeping her there, in a holding pattern, not allowing her to make her final ascent. She thrashed about, rubbing herself against his face. The course stubble of his chin bit into her flesh. It hurt but it felt too good. God she needed more…the pain the pleasure…him…she just needed him.
“Torres,” she moaned.
With that cry, his tongue found her clit. She sucked in a ragged breath. It was good, too good. Her legs shook, bright colours flashed behind her eyes as she came hard against his mouth. Her whole body shook with it, as wave after wave of pleasure hit her.
For a precious moment, the world stopped, everything was good. She remembered what happiness felt like.
She closed her eyes and tried to capture the feeling so she could remind herself that she still could feel something.
Beth didn’t have long to languish in the peacefulness of the moment. In seconds Torres was above her, his thick cock at the entrance of her body. With one powerful stroke he was in her and the carnal assault on her senses began again.
She was climbing again, each stroke pushing her higher. “Oh God, Torres, I’m going to come again,” she cried. A powerful spasm rocked her body as she came around his cock, her flesh moulding around him, merging with his, becoming one. Tremor after tremor rocked her until her body could give no more, but still he thrust into her, his cadence merciless, his restraint gone.
She bit into her lip to stop from screaming. Her flesh was too sensitive. Every stroke was agony…and bliss. She loved this part, when it was just about him. It hurt but she loved it. He was using her, fucking her. It was hard and fast, no finesse, just frantic need. She felt used…and sore…and needed…and cherished…and loved. They didn’t say the words, but her body knew. There was no amount of physical pain too much for this.
She watched his face. She loved that face, the scarred bearded face. She ran her hand along the slash on his cheek. With a low animal grunt, he came and warmth flooded her.
He collapsed onto her. He rolled over, so he did not crush her, their bodies still entwined.
Gently he pressed a kiss to her temple.
Beth
