Page 129 of Hit Man

His hand slides down my belly to rest between my thighs. “You’re wet for me,” he states the obvious, working a finger inside my slick channel.

I rise up onto my toes and lift my hips toward him.

“That’s it. Ride my finger.”

His thumb brushes my tight bundle of nerves, sending tiny, delicious shocks through my body. He runs circles over my clit until I’m dizzy with pleasure.

“Dios mío. You wet for me,querida? You want me to fuck you?” he murmurs. “I’ll give you two choices. Vanilla. Or with a whole lot of spice.”

He withdraws his finger and, bringing it to his lips, sucks my juices off of it.

My knees feel weak. My equilibrium unsettled. God, how I want to kiss his beautiful lips and tell him my deepest, darkest desires.

“I think we’re way past vanilla,” I whisper.

Like lighting, he’s on me, spinning me around and bending me over the arm of the sofa. Spreading me open with his thigh.

He places my book in my hands. “Read.”

A blush creeps into my cheeks.

“Come on, Aubrey. Let me hear those dirty, filthy words roll off your sweet lips.”

“Una buena cogida,” I mumble.

“A good lay? Coming right up.” His hands move onto my hips, the bulbous head of his cock nudging at my entrance.

“Besos Franceses,” I read.French Kisses.

He inches his way inside me before rolling his big body over my back. I turn my head in time to catch his lips crushing over mine. His French kiss causes my toes to curl.

“Dirtier,” he murmurs in my ear, coming up into a standing position behind me. His thick cock slips and slides inside me as he moves. I feel myself grow wetter, my desire building.

“Chocha.” I grin.

“Keep going.” He spreads my legs, opening me up. “Next time, I’ll take you on top of a mirror so you can watch how fucking amazing your pussy looks around my cock.”

I press my forehead into the book. Feeling myself begin to shake and pushing back in time for his next forward thrust.

He falls silent as he picks up the pace, driving into me. My belly pushed flat onto the sofa arm, I hold onto the side of the sofa with one hand and the top of the sofa back with the other.

I moan. It’s the kind of moan that comes from deep within. Like a volcano that takes its time to build before its molten lava bursts into the sky in a long, spectacular, earth-shattering way.

I lift my head as I feel the rush of my orgasm begin.

“Diego. Please.”

“Please what,querida? Use your words.”

I grit my teeth and search for a word dirty enough to end this straightaway.

I immediately find this: “Ir a desvencijado la cama.”

His laugh begins as a whisper and ends as a rumble. And I can’t help myself but join in.

That’s how we climax. The damn guide toFilthy, Dirty Street Spanishfalling to the floor. Both of us moaning and laughing, laughing so hard we’re in tears.

I’ve never felt so close to another person than I do to Diego.