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MARISELA

“ H ow many times, Marisela?” he repeated, and I couldn’t tell if he actually wanted an answer or not. If he was fishing for the truth or begging for a lie as his hand started to creep lower and lower. Not stopping until he found my clit liked he’d had it mapped out by memory.

He pressed the pad of his thumb down, pinning me to the spot without having to do anything but keep his hand there.

The slightest movement would give me the friction I was aching for.

Have me squirming and grinding and seeking relief while staying still left me at his mercy.

Sprawled out on the bed with nothing but a silk robe hanging off my bare shoulders.

“Give me a number, little lamb, before I come up with one of my own,” Adrian grunted against my cheek. The sound not nearly as sexual as it was primitive. Like an animal with its foot caught in a trap, teetering between lashing out and asking for help.

I couldn’t help him, though. I couldn’t help either of us.

“Why does it matter, Adrian?” My exasperated sigh died on a moan when he shoved a knee between my thighs, spreading me wide open as he positioned himself at the edge of the mattress.

“I need to know how many bags of blood to have on hand, how many organs I need to waste to keep him alive just so I can kill him again. I need to know when we’re even so I can finally put that fucker in the ground.”

Adrian unfastened the button of his pants, his zipper having never made it up, and then shoved the material down his thighs with one arm until his bare ass was in full view of the open balcony doors.

The tip of his cock probing my swollen pussy lips while his hold on the bed kept him from plunging forward. Just barely.

“But more importantly, I need to know how many times I need to fuck you tonight so that your cunt forgets there was ever anyone else. So tell me, Marisela, how many orgasms do I owe you? One? Five? A hundred? Give me a number and I won’t stop until you get it.”

I closed my eyes, throwing my head back and fisting the sheets when his resolve broke before mine did.

Because it didn’t matter. How many times my husband fucked me, how many times my brother-in-law planned to do the same.

I knew what my body liked, knew how to balance the alcohol in my system and the chemicals in my brain, but there was no guarantee that anyone else did .

I sucked in a lungful of air, bracing myself for the pain.

The stretch and the burn as Adrian slowly pulled back, only to thrust deeper somehow.

In and out and in. Fast, then slow, then fast again.

As if he were trying to unlock a code. His eyes glued to my face, his intense glare studying my reactions until he found one he liked. Because he could tell I liked it too.

He let go of my wrists. Dragging his fingers from my shoulder, over the peak of my breast and along each of my ribs until a heavy palm landed on my ass with an audible thwack of skin on skin.

Adrian grinned, flexing his fingers as he grabbed a handful of thigh meat in his bruising grip and hiked my leg higher on his waist. Shifting his knee on the mattress and angling his cock to one side.

And then he dropped his gaze from my face to where our bodies joined.

His sole focus on the way my pussy clamped around him each time he drove forward and protested each time he drew back.

But the penetration wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

It didn’t matter if it was made of silicone or flesh and muscle.

If it vibrated or if it thrusted. If it fit in my palm or required both hands.

I needed more. More than the friction, than the push and pull.

More than the growing pressure in my stomach that bordered on discomfort.

I shoved at Adrian’s chest, the sudden jolt causing him to stumble back a step before I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and flipped him onto the mattress. He didn’t stop me and not because he couldn’t. We both already knew that if he really wanted to fuck me against my will, he would .

He was just curious. His head canted to the side and his arms spread out on the bed palm-first as I shucked off the rest of my robe and tossed it onto the floor. I didn’t give him a moment to question what was gonna happen next before I climbed up his body and straddled his waist.

He smelled like me, and when I lowered my mouth onto his cock, he tasted like me too. A flavor I didn’t think I would enjoy as much as I did. An odd mixture of salt and soap and a tang of something else.

Adrian groaned, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he continued to watch me taste me on him. And then his hands were on my ass, nudging me forward. Inch by inch until his cock was popping out of my mouth and lining up with my pussy instead.

I slowly lowered myself down, pelvic bone over pelvic bone, before he guided me back up again.

His palms splayed out on my thighs so that I was grinding back and forth more than bouncing up and down.

It was a new sensation. A new angle that stimulated every part of me.

Every nerve that wasn’t enough on its own but together was everything.

“That’s it, princess. Fuck yourself on my cock.

Use me to get yourself off,” Adrian grunted.

But I wasn’t even listening to him anymore.

His filthy words white noise as I climbed higher and higher.

And higher still. As I anchored an arm to the headboard and dug my knees into the mattress.

The skin rubbing away and adding the touch of pain I needed to finally reach the ledge.

My body jerked forward, the sounds coming out of my mouth both high-pitched and guttural as muscles I didn’t know I had contracted and convulsed. Ached and assuaged. My vision blurring as my blood pressure dropped like I’d just stepped out of a hot shower.

I didn’t see stars or heaven or god or the devil. What I did see was the pattern of the bedsheets as Adrian tossed me onto my stomach, yanking my head back with a hand around my throat. My ass in the air and his cock shoved as far into my guts as it could go without coming out the other side.