Page 30 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Mari

Two Years and Two Months Before the Wedding

Ican’t believe I threw myself at Javi within hours of seeing him again.

I can’t believe he passed on the chance to have sex with me. Me!

Why didn’t I let him finish the haunted speakeasy experience? I should have shown him no mercy.

Sighing, I throw a hand over my face. Oh God, could this night get any more embarrassing?

It’s only been a few minutes since Javi left, and I’ve spent every one of them second-guessing myself. Did I come on too strong? Not strong enough?

A knock on the door of my hotel suite startles me out of this unproductive headspace. I heave myself off the soothingly plush couch and shuffle over. When I open the door, Javi’s staring back at me.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his gaze steady and heated.

I’m not familiar with this version of Javi.

The one whose jaw is clenched, whose burning eyes take me in greedily, the one who looks poised to devour me on the spot.

I’m transfixed by the pure need that seems to be pouring off him in waves.

Am I sure about this? For now, absolutely.

Tomorrow? Who the hell knows? Still, I grip the lapel of his bomber jacket, tug him inside, and say, “Yes, I’m sure. ”

He’s on me in seconds, grabbing my waist and bringing my body flush against his.

He dips his head and narrows in on the sensitive skin of my collarbones, sliding his mouth over them, then running his nose along my neck and under my chin.

His lips are cold, which tells me he walked outside before returning.

How many steps did he take before he decided to turn around?

What made him change his mind? Do I even care?

We fumble with his jacket, clumsily easing him out of it and letting it drop to the floor.

Am I really doing this?

Are we really doing this?

He watches me watch him, his gaze following mine as he slowly bends and presses his mouth against the fabric covering one of my breasts.

Ah, so we’re diving right in. There’s a vague warning in my brain that he’s setting the tone, communicating that this isn’t the start of our love story by bypassing the most intimate of moments, the first kiss.

Then again, I suppose we already had one of those six years ago.

Besides, this is what I wanted: the ability to lose myself in him for a night—no more, no less. Don’t overthink this, Mari.

Javi places an open-mouthed kiss on my nipple over my T-shirt, then gathers the fabric with his teeth and drags it across my beaded tip. I briefly close my eyes but open them quickly, not wanting to miss even an instant of the surreal sight before me.

My clothing is a barrier, a dam to be broken.

But also the cliff’s edge. Everything underneath is precarious.

Thrilling. Risky. I’m desperate to push us both over the precipice, so I grasp the hem of my T-shirt and lift it to my shoulders.

I’m bare from the waist up and thrillingly exposed, my chest rising and falling as if the air’s been knocked out of me.

In a way, it has. This is more than my senses can handle; my brain can hardly keep up.

Javi steps back and looks his fill, then lets out a low hum of appreciation. “Jesus, I want to press my lips against every fucking inch of your skin. Just lay you out on a bed and love on you for days.”

I easily picture him making good on that promise, and I’m so aroused, my skin feels too tight, too confining.

Wordlessly, Javi finishes what I started and lifts my top over my head, then makes quick work of his own sweater, discarding both behind him.

Now we’re facing each other, bare-chested and panting.

He snakes one hand around the back of my neck, pulling me close.

His other hand palms one of my breasts, then rubs the nipple.

Javi’s lips finally connect with mine, and we groan into each other.

His lips are soft, his breath is sweet, his mouth is masterful .

His hands slide down to my ass and squeeze; my hands slide up his chest and worship.

I don’t want to stop kissing or touching him, but I’m impatient for more, so I undo my pants, let them drop to the floor, and step out.

I’m standing in the middle of the room, wearing a sheer black thong, as Javi’s gaze roams over me, his pupils blown wide.

“Fuck,” he says, softly. “Let me—”

“Yes, whatever you’re thinking, yes,” I eke out.

He spins me into his arms, my back to his chest, then whispers, “Lead the way.”

I take his hand and walk to the bedroom.

It’s brightly lit and small, the bed predictably its dominant feature.

The coverlet is pristine, and there are small signs of my mad dash to change into something more comfortable before I met Javi at the bar—a towel haphazardly draped over an armchair, my skirt laid out on the mattress.

Javi picks up my skirt and lays it neatly on the armchair, then turns to face me at the foot of the bed, crowding me with his body, until my only option is to fall back.

He toes off his shoes and crawls onto the bed, resting next to me on his side.

I take his hand and place it on my stomach, then draw it down my body until it’s nestled at the juncture of my thighs.

Javi finds his way beneath my panties and teases the tight curls there. He edges torturously closer with each pass, and then he ghosts a finger against my clit. The effect is instantaneous. Electric. I flinch and let out a deep moan.

“You like that?” he breathes against my neck, repeating the move.

“I love it.”

“How about this?” he asks, slipping a finger inside me. “Do you want me here? Filling you?”

“Oh God, yes,” I cry out. “But first I need to touch you too.”

I turn into him, careful not to disrupt his skillful exploration, then flick open the top button of his jeans and slowly drag the zipper down.

My gaze never leaves his face as I trail a digit across his stomach, burrow inside his pants, and dip into his boxers.

I wrap my hand around him, relishing the warmth, the thickness, how deliciously rigid he is for me. For me .

“Mari,” he hisses, thrusting into my hand, “that’s it. Keep doing that. Just. Like. That.”

Our gazes meet, and then his eyes roll as he takes in a shuddering breath.

“God, Javi, that look on your face has me…”

Astonishingly, he grows even harder in my palm.

“You’re making my fantasies come true,” he says in an awestruck voice.

And although he’s plainly enjoying my touch, he doesn’t forget about me for one moment, alternating between closing his eyes in bliss and opening them to watch me as he rubs my clit in agonizingly slow circles.

I bite my lip, arching into him when he picks up the pace.

“Yes, Javi, oh God, that feels so good.”

I’m close, so incredibly close, but I know from experience that my first orgasm is always the strongest, and I want Javi inside me when that happens, so I rest my hand on his. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?” he says, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, pushing him onto his back and straddling him so that my ass is resting on his thighs. “I just want to come on your cock.”

“Jesus, Mari,” he says, taking in an unsteady breath, “no better sentence has ever been spoken.”

I love that he’s affected by my words, that picturing us together unbalances him. “Let’s get you out of these jeans.”

He lifts his butt off the mattress, and I yelp, clumsily hanging on as he tugs his pants and boxers down and kicks them to the floor. Once he settles, I position myself above him and reach for his dick.

“Hold up,” he groans. “We need a condom.”

“Oh shit, I can’t believe I forgot.”

I mean, I really can’t believe I forgot. I never forget. I scramble off the bed and dive for my purse. I’m back within seconds, a strip of condoms in hand—because if this turns out to be as good as I’m anticipating, then we’re definitely going more than one round.

Javi tears off a packet and rolls the condom on himself.

I’m shaking with need by the time he’s done.

I lean forward, my breasts within inches of his mouth, and guide him inside me.

He palms my breasts, then traces slow circles on my areolas, ghosting in spirals that end at my nipples.

He pinches them when I sink onto him, and I’m flooded with sensation, as if a current is flowing through me and leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

“Fuck,” we both cry out.

It’s a tight fit, but I’m not tentative at all, the twinge of pain from the fullness only heightening my arousal.

“Come down here, so I can kiss you,” Javi says.

I lean over and touch my lips to his, my hair creating a cocoon around our faces.

Javi’s tongue teases mine as I rock into him slowly.

He threads his fingers through my hair and massages my scalp.

I’m warm all over, the skin between my thighs is slick and tender, and my nipples are so tight it’s nearly painful. This feeling is…intoxicating.

“I won’t be able to last very long,” he warns, tightening his hold in my hair. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you need?”

“I need you to grind on my dick…” he whispers.

“Runner-up for the best sentence ever spoken.”

“ While I play with this gorgeously soaked pussy.”

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner,” I groan out.

I rest my upper body on his chest and snuggle into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, a mix of his natural pheromones and a hint of citrus that tells me he’s using the same cologne he wore in college.

Something about that tugs at my heart, reminds me of the guy I once knew so well I would have sworn we’d be in each other’s lives forever.

Don’t let him fool you, Mari. Don’t make this more than it is. Clearing my head of sentimental notions, I lift my ass and impale myself on Javi, contracting around him on each stroke. Making good on his promise, he fondles me, ghosting his fingers over my lips and clit, then toying in my wetness.

“Jesus,” I pant out. “You are really good with your hands.”

My thighs are burning, but it’s the kind of ache that only intensifies every sensation. I’m sweating, working him furiously, and trying to maintain a rhythm while he overwhelms me with his touch, until he grasps my waist and takes over, lifting then dragging me down as he plunges upward.

“Oh my God, Javi, yes,” I say, sitting up, “don’t stop.”

“Touch yourself, baby,” he says, and my fingers fly across my clit. I rub, and I rub, while he fucks me from below, the corded muscles of his forearms straining from the effort.

Javi doesn’t even have to ask if I’m close.

He’s so attuned, his gaze locked on my face, there’s no way he won’t know the moment the first tremor pulses through me.

It doesn’t take long either. My heart pounds, my ears throb, and a burst of heat surges up my sternum as the orgasm rolls through and over me.

The force of it stuns me into silence. Fittingly, my mouth forms the shape of an O, but no sound comes out.

Then all I can do is lock my thighs around Javi’s hips as he bucks under the assault of his own climax and shouts my name.

Pure. Bliss.

I collapse against him and try to catch my breath. “Holy shit, I’m going to need carbs and electrolytes before we move to round two.”

He chuckles. “Mighty forward of you to assume we’re doing this again.”

I rise up, placing my elbows on the mattress and caging him in so that his face is centimeters from mine. “Or we could end it here?”

Javi lifts his head and captures my mouth. Against my lips he says, “Definitely not. A million times wouldn’t be enough.”

“A million times sounds impossible.”

“A goal worth striving for,” he says, wearing a lazy grin and watching me through heavy-lidded eyes.

I return his expression with a satisfied smile of my own, but inside I’m smacking a hand across my forehead.

What the hell was I thinking? Treating Javi like any other man has never been my strong suit.

But now? He’s given me a glimpse of what we could be.

And once again shown me that there’s just something about him that speaks to my soul.

Or is this why it’s described as mind-altering sex?

Because my brain is definitely scrambled, and that can only mean danger for my tender heart.