Текст книги "All Revved Up"

Автор книги: Sylvia Day

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All Revved Up by Sylvia Day

On the eve of his thirtieth birthday, Miguel Santos leaves his high-powered life behind for a visit to the small town he grew up in... and the high school sweetheart whose wild passion he’s never stopped craving.

Faith Bennett loved Miguel the moment she saw him. But she always knew his future was in New York, while hers was tied to the auto shop that was her close-knit family’s livelihood. Pushing him away nearly broke her, but when he took her heart with him, he left something precious behind.

Now he’s back, demanding her body, her desire, her very soul as retribution for the pain he still carries. He won’t settle for anything less than everything she’s got, but she still can’t leave with him and he still can’t stay, and their past has secrets too explosive to share.

CHAPTER 1

The smell of motor oil, degreaser, and coolant were among the very few scents in the world that made Miguel Santos’s dick hard enough to drive nails. He blamed that on Faith Bennett. The girl he’d loved with the wild, intense passion only experienced in adolescence. The girl he had slaked all his raging teenage hormones on every chance he could. The girl he’d fully intended to marry and spend the rest of his life spoiling with the sort of expensive gifts, cars, and homes her struggling family couldn’t afford.

…until she’d kicked him to the curb the day after his high school graduation.

Miguel pulled the keys from the ignition of the sleek BMW coupe he’d rented at the airport, then slid out from behind the wheel. He took off his sunglasses and stared at the auto shop in front of him. Bennett and Sons Garage looked better than he’d ever seen it. Fresh tan and forest green paint spoke of steady business, as did the number of cars in the service area. They’d expanded at some point, taking over the lot next door that used to be a paint shop. He’d noted on the drive over that the neighborhood had been revitalized. So much had changed in the eleven years since he’d left Rio Penasquitos. He’d changed.

But his memories of Faith remained the same—fierce and heated. Powerful.

Powerful enough to bring him face-to-face with a woman he’d sworn never to see again. He’d finally accepted that he wasn’t moving forward because part of him was still clinging to the past. Like every other memory from high school, his recollections were stained by the perceived omnipotence of youth and he’d realized what he had to do. He needed to see Faith again, with an experienced man’s eyes, so he could finally cut through the nostalgia and close that chapter of his past.

He headed to the waiting room. Grabbing the metal handle of the glass door, Miguel stepped into the cool air conditioning and smiled absently at those who filled the chairs in the expansive space. A mother was walking her son to the vending machine, an older gentleman was reading a copy of Forbes that just happened to have Miguel’s dad on the cover, and a couple college-age kids were laughing over something they were watching on an iPhone.

“Good news, Mr. Sullivan,” a husky voice called from behind the service counter. “You don’t need a new radiator.”

Miguel froze, his body tensing. He dreamed of that voice sometimes. Relived occasions when it had teased him, taunted him, begged him…

First loves were heady; everyone knew that. But his had been soaked with insanely combustible lust. A desire so hot it had seared into his brain.

He exhaled harshly and got a grip on himself. He’d been a kid then, highly-sexed and blessed with a lush, sensual girlfriend. It would be different now. He had control of his dick and libido.

Faith appeared at the counter, her gaze on her hands as she pulled off the latex gloves she wore while working. She was dressed in a baggy blue jumpsuit and her long, dark hair was clipped up, effectively subduing her sexiest assets.

Miguel’s cock didn’t mind. It thickened and lengthened with rousing appreciation.

Goddammit… She was still hot as hell. Full-lipped, blue-eyed, honey-skinned. A fucking walking wet dream.

Mr. Sullivan set down the issue of Forbes and stood.

“Your radiator hose—” Her gaze caught on Miguel. She paled and reached for the counter.

He stood riveted, rocked by desire so ferocious he could barely string two thoughts together. His brain got as far as him leaping over the counter and dragging her to the floor, then it shorted out.

“Radiator hose sprung a leak?” Mr. Sullivan asked, approaching her.

Faith visibly shook off her shock and glanced at her customer. “Yes. I replaced it and refilled your coolant reservoir. Angela will type up the repair order and check you out.”

“Thank you.”

She managed a tight smile before pivoting and walking back out of the half-door leading to the service bays.

The last time she’d turned her back to him had been the last time he saw her. She’d slid out of his bed in all her naked glory, her passion-flushed skin on display, her generous curves reigniting the lust she’d sated just a few moments before. Faith fought and fucked with no restraint, and he’d learned to just hang on and enjoy the ride.

“We’ve had a good time together,” she’d said, looking over her shoulder with a cool smile. “I’m sure I’ll miss you now and then after you’re gone.”

Two years together, and she dropped him like a forgettable one-night stand.

He had no idea how long she’d been planning on dumping him. From the beginning? She did it so blithely he knew he’d meant little to her for a while.

Galvanized by his remembered pain, humiliation, and simmering fury, Miguel stepped outside to wait. A moment later, she joined him from the nearest bay, her lips slicked with pinkish gloss. He wondered if she still favored the strawberry-flavored stuff. He used to love nibbling it off her mouth. And seeing the pink stain of it ringing his cock.

“Miguel.” She blew out her breath in a rush. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Just pulled in.” Literally. He hadn’t stopped for gas or food, or said hi to his mother, who was expecting him to stay with her. He’d been planning on doing just that, until he saw Faith. Now, he would be getting a hotel room. Clearly just seeing her wasn’t going to do the trick. He’d have to nail her to get the job done, to prove to his infatuated brain and unruly dick that she didn’t have a golden, magical pussy. Sure it had felt that way at seventeen, when he’d had only a half-dozen girls in his sexual history and Faith had been the most precious thing in the world. He was thirty now and he’d had his share of women who knew how to wring a guy out in the sack. He just had to get past comparing new memories to faulty old ones. Similar to remembering an amusement park roller coaster as being wildly exhilarating, only to ride it again as an adult and realize it isn’t all that when you’re three times the size and a lot more jaded.

He’d soon be riding Faith again and gaining the same perspective. If she wasn’t married or attached to a significant other…

His gut knotted. He couldn’t tell by looking at her hand; she didn’t wear rings for safety reasons.

“You came here first?” Her blue eyes gave nothing away. As hot as she was, she was also cool and controlled.

Except when she was beneath him. There had been nothing controlled or cool about her then.

“I thought I’d take you to dinner.” He affected an easy smile. No simple task when he was furiously aroused, his entire body hard with need. “For old time’s sake.”

She looked him over, her gaze raking him from head to toe with a long, leisurely pause on his raging hard-on. He crossed his arms and widened his stance, his jaw clenching as the button-fly of his jeans dug into his straining cock. It fucking killed him that she could still affect him this way. He’d had a lot of beautiful women, but only Faith made him feel like he might die if he didn’t get inside her.

“Take me to dinner?” she repeated. “Or take me to bed?”

“Both.” He refused to feel vulnerable for stating his intentions. Just because he was hot to fuck her didn’t mean she had the power to hurt him. Hiding anything would suggest wariness and he wasn’t going to give her that ammunition. She could shred him just fine without any help. “Or just the latter.”

Her chin lifted. “Do you have a significant other in your life?”

“I wouldn’t be propositioning you if I was.”

“No girlfriend?”

He shook his head.

“Fiance?”

“Not yet.”

Miguel looked for any sign that his responses pleased or displeased her. She revealed nothing. His dick throbbed in time with the pounding beat of his heart. “You?”

She waved the question off with marked impatience. “Where should I meet you?”

Her desire to have an escape vehicle aggravated him, which he didn’t hide with his curtness. “Mezaluna work for you? I’ll pick you up.”

“It’s gone. The Torettos moved a few years ago. They wanted a quiet little restaurant, so when things got busy around here, they moved on.”

Rio Penasquitos hadn’t even been a spot on the map when he’d left, but it had grown into a quaint tourist destination and vacation spot for the wealthy. That was due in part to his mother, a trophy wife who’d returned to her home town to raise her only child and brought media attention with her. “Why don’t you pick me up at the bed and breakfast,” he challenged, “and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Her foot lifted, her leg moving restlessly. His gaze narrowed on that telltale movement.

“Okay,” she said finally. “What time?”

“Seven?” He remembered the shop closed at five. Expectation thrummed through him, a heated awareness that made a joke of the casual interaction they were pretending this was. Tension was strung tight between them, vibrating in the air with the energy of an approaching thunderstorm.

She wasn’t indifferent to him. He wondered if he’d possibly ruined her, too. Just a little. While he couldn’t imagine any man not taking the time to savor her body for hours, he knew damn well that no one could possibly love her as completely as he once had. Even the man he was today was incapable of that depth of emotion and connection. She’d killed the innocence in him that had made it possible to love a woman without any thought of self-preservation. He’d been wide open when she cut his heart out and scars had formed, creating a thick shield that he couldn’t get past and no woman could get through.

“I’ll see you then.” She backed up toward the garage. “You look good, Miguel.”

“So do you.” Good? She looked edible. His mouth was damn near watering with the anticipation of tasting her again. If there hadn’t been a dozen auto technicians around, he would have kissed off waiting until seven and taken what he wanted now. As it was, there was no conveniently private place on the lot to eat her sweet pussy, which is exactly what he’d do once he got his lips on her.

“I’m glad you came by,” she said softly, holding his gaze.

He bared his teeth in a smile. He didn’t want to be placated. He wanted a rushed dinner followed by unrushed sex that would pale in comparison to his exaggerated recollections. Then he’d leave the past behind where it belonged. “So… did you end up missing me now and then?”

“Sure.” She turned her back to him again. “See you at seven.”

Faith barely made it to the dispatcher’s office before her composure broke. Leaning against her father’s desk, she gasped for breath, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Miguel Santos. Even after all these years, his effect on her was like getting hit by a bus.

“Hey.”

She looked at her eldest brother filling the doorway. “Hey.”

“John said Miguel was here.”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t fair that his dark sexuality was even more potent now than it had been in high school. He was businessman for God’s sake. A “corporate raider,” although he called what he did “activist shareholding.” He should have a paunch. And thinning hair. Instead he was a delectably mature version of the quarterback he’d been in high school. His dark T-shirt hadn’t hidden his beautifully defined biceps or his lean waist. She bet he still had washboard abs and a heavily muscled back. And the rest of him…

Jesus. One look at him and she swore she could feel him pushing inside her. She remembered that all too well. The searing pleasure of his entry. The sensation of utter surrender.

Russell stepped into the office, his blue eyes dark with concern. “What did he want?”

Blowing out a shaky breath, she moved to one of the two chairs facing the desk and sat. “Retribution. He tried to play it off, but he was seething. I could feel it from several feet away.”

“Then he’s not over you.” He scrubbed a hand over his shadowed jaw, his gaze thoughtful. “And we all know you never got over him. Maybe this is a second chance.”

“At what? Hurting each other?” She swiped at her wet eyes. Everything was knotted up inside her, making her lightheaded and queasy. “His life is in New York. Mine is here in California.”

“Things are different now.” Leaning his hip into the desk, Russell crossed his arms and looked back out the door into the busy service bays. Air tools whirred loudly, drowning out the sound of multiple radios, each playing a different genre to suit the tastes of the auto tech who owned it. “Business is hopping. We’ve got a solid nest egg—”

“I’m not different,” she argued. “I don’t want to raise a family away from my own family. I don’t want to sit in a penthouse apartment, planning dinner parties and waiting for my husband to come home late only to leave early the next morning. I’m not the right girl for that life and Miguel can’t settle for anything less. This isn’t Pretty Woman, Russ. The girl from the wrong side of the tracks doesn’t always end up with the millionaire.”

“You did not just compare yourself to a prostitute.”

“Cinderella, then. That better?”

“Hardly. In any case, Miguel wouldn’t be settling with you,” Russell bit out, bristling with an older brother’s pride. A consummate ladies’ man himself, he didn’t tolerate the same nonchalance in men she dated.

“He wouldn’t be getting this either.” She waved a hand that encompassed her greasy uniform from neck to ankle. “One of the things I’ve always loved about him was his acceptance of me just the way I am. It turns him on that I wrench and get dirty. If I slipped on a pair of heels and a strand of pearls he’d probably need Viagra to fuck me.”

She actually couldn’t imagine Miguel ever needing Viagra for any reason, but—

“Whoa.” Russ held up a hand. “TMI.”

That made her smile briefly. “I have to call Mrs. Santos. Let her know he’s on the way.”

“How long is he in town?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

A hot shiver coursed through her. The sexual ferocity on Miguel’s face had made her wet. It had always been that way between them, their desire simmering below the surface, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation. “Yes. Dinner. Tonight.”

“I’m not sure I feel good about that. If he’s pissed off, I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

Faith’s brows rose. “I’m a grown woman. That’s not your call.”

“You’ve been hurt enough as it is.”

“He’s got a right to be mad, don’t you think?”

Russ stilled. “He knows?”

“No.” She rubbed at the knot of fear and regret in her stomach. “But that doesn’t change anything. It’s his birthday tomorrow. If he wants to ring in the occasion by working out his frustration in the sack, well… I really don’t mind. It’s been a long assed dry spell for me and—”

Covering his ears, her brother was up and out the door in a heartbeat.

She was reaching for the phone when he poked his head back in. “What?” she asked.

“I’ll run point tonight.”

Her love for him swelled and constricted her chest. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. Mom said I’m losing my ‘favorite uncle’ status to Johnny. Can’t have that. I have a rep to maintain.”

Pressing her fingers to her lips, she blew him a kiss. “You can drop him off at Mrs. Santo’s house in the morning before you come in to work. And have I told you lately that you’re the best?”

“I’ve got a nasty right hook, too. You tell Miguel that if he gets out of hand.”

CHAPTER 2

Faith stepped out of her classic red Corvette and sucked in a deep, fortifying breath. With one forearm on the frame of the driver’s side window and the other on the roof, she stared at the small bungalow behind Victorian Secrets Bed and Breakfast. Its original purpose, back when the property had been built two hundred years ago, was as the housekeeper’s residence. The main house was once the governor’s mansion. Seated on two acres in the middle of an otherwise modern residential area, the two story bed and breakfast had a wide wraparound porch and huge yard.

God, the place had memories. She was certain Miguel had chosen it for that very reason. To unsettle her, maybe. Which was also the likely reason for why he didn’t appear when she honked the horn. He was going to make her go inside, make her face the ghosts of their past.

Faith shoved the car door closed and headed for the bungalow’s entrance. Her stilettos clicked across the driveway, beating out a staccato rhythm that couldn’t keep up with her racing heart. With effort, she resisted the urge to smooth the skirt of her dress. It was classic black, in a soft jersey and wraparound style. The crisscrossing halves created a plunging neckline that revealed the upper swells of her breasts and a hint of blue lace demi-bra, the hue of which matched her eyes. The whole ensemble was new, from her earrings to her heels.

She thought of it as armor. Her only defense against Miguel was his desire for her.

Reaching the door, she knocked on the inset glass. He called for her to come in, so she entered, but nothing could have prepared her for what she found inside.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding completely unapologetic as he scrubbed at shower-damp hair with a towel. “I had a business call that took longer than expected.”

He was naked.

She closed the door by stumbling back and leaning heavily against it, her knees weakened by a lust so ferocious it made her dizzy. Brazenly unabashed, Miguel stood in the living room completely nude, his gorgeous caramel-hued skin on display, his beautiful abs and biceps flexing as he dried himself. His body was the stuff of orgasmic dreams, hard and rippling with muscle. Wide shoulders tapering down to a lean waist and hips. Maturity graced him, turning his formerly sinewy and lanky body into a powerhouse of potent masculinity. He personified the fantasy of a sensual Latin lover, dripping sex and confidence, free of any inhibitions.

Her gaze fell to his cock and stayed there helplessly, her mouth watering at his virility. He was half-erect and impressive. When he was fully aroused, as he was quickly becoming under the avidity of her gaze, he was a sexual god. A small sound escaped her, a needy cry as her pussy grew slick and soft with wanting. He had been her first lover, her virginity given to him in the bedroom that waited just a few feet behind him, a room in which he’d ruined her for other men.

Sharp possessiveness sunk its claws into her, curling her hands into fists. The need to claim him, and that decadently sinful body he’d once pledged to her, was so voracious she burned with it. Mine, she thought savagely. He’s mine.

The towel fell to the floor.

Faith panted through parted lips as he came toward her in a riveting display of golden skin and sinuous muscle. His eyes, so dark they were nearly black, smoldered with carnal intent. The curve of his exquisite mouth was etched with cruelty. He was so hot with lust and anger she was surprised the dampness on his skin didn’t steam away.

A shiver of fear sharpened the knife’s edge of her hunger. She was aching with emptiness, tense with expectation, heartbroken that they should be at this place—wanting each other so deeply they were sick with it.

“Miguel,” she breathed as his hands caught her by the hips.

“I can’t go anywhere like this,” he bit out, sounding furious. His face was pressed into her hair, his breathing harsh against her ear. One hand cupped the back of her thigh, kneading with almost painful squeezes as he moved up and under the hem of her dress. He palmed her bare cheek before sliding around to the front, growling when he found the wet satin covering her pussy.

Faith gasped at the electric contact, her hips thrusting forward without volition.

Catching her around the waist with his arm, he hitched her up hard against him. His questing fingers found the edge of her thong’s elastic band and eased beneath it, sliding through the silky moisture that slickened her folds to rub her clit.

She jolted against him, her body strung so tight she thought she might snap.

“You’re hot and creamy, Faith,” he taunted softly, circling the clenching opening of her vagina. “And I’m hard and aching for you. Were you thinking of me when you stepped into this thong and pulled it on? Were you thinking of what it would do to me? How crazed it would make me? Did the thought of me desperate to fuck you turn you on?”

“Of course. It’s been a long time. Wouldn’t want there to be any awkwardness.” Her voice came out with the husky assurance of a practiced seductress, but inside she was a young woman again, madly in love and overwhelmed by a hunger that could only be appeased by a man who resented her.

He tensed against her, his arm at her waist nearly crushing her. “And I wouldn’t want to disappoint. How do you want it?”

She was about to reply when two long fingers pushed into her. She bit her lip to hold off an orgasm, fighting not to embarrass herself by showing just how long it had been since a man had touched her sexually.

“So tight, mi hermosa.” He began to thrust. Easy and slow. Piercing her defenses with consummate skill. “Should I drill you with my fingers ‘til you come, then have you return the favor with your mouth? Save the fucking for after dinner?”

“If we don’t sweeten your temper, mi tesoro,” she purred back, struggling to hide her roiling emotions, “I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere with you.”

“We’ll order in, then.” His dark gaze was hard. “You’ll need the energy.”

Faith gripped his muscular ass and climaxed against her will, pleasure rushing through her with a violence that stole her strength. If not for his grip, she would have sunk to the floor in a quivering mess.

“Such a greedy little cunt,” he muttered hoarsely. “I’ve never forgotten how it feels around my cock.”

Her body was flushed and misted with perspiration, her pussy still trembling around his embedded fingers. She wondered if she’d survive the night. Miguel knew how to bare her soul in a way no one else could. She let him in so deeply, it sometimes felt as if she couldn’t breathe without his touch, but he was so closed off with hurt and anger she knew she’d never reach him. Not like this.

“Kiss me,” she ordered, her fingers digging into the rock-hard flesh of his perfect ass.

He turned his head so swiftly, he startled her. But when he sealed his mouth over hers, there was no urgency. His tongue licked across the seam of her parted lips, then dipped inside, teasing. His teeth nibbled at the strawberry gloss she knew he loved, his low moan vibrating against her breasts. He ate at her mouth as if he had all the time in the world, as if she was the sweetest delicacy and he couldn’t get enough. Her toes curled.

“Hold on,” he whispered against her lips, confusing her. Then he ripped her panties off her body, rocking her on her stilettos.

The sharp bite of pain as the elastic dug into her hips before breaking only fueled her fierce determination to reach the tender, loving man she once knew. She lifted one leg and anchored it on his hip, but even with three-inch heels, she was too short to take his cock.

Miguel gripped the backs of her thighs and hefted her up. Her arms encircled his shoulders, their gazes meeting. His features were stark, his mouth a hard line. His penis throbbed against her, the thick length pressed between the parted folds of her sex. She pushed her fingers into his dark hair, the thick locks feeling like damp silk against her skin. The words she wanted to say burned her throat and tongue, explanations and declarations that would only cause more pain because the end would only be the same. Instead she said the only part of the truth that might help to heal… “I’m sorry, mi tesoro.”

His eyes glistened for a moment and his throat worked on a hard swallow. “So am I.”

Setting his jaw, he turned from the entrance, carrying her past the couch and through the open louvered double-doors to the bedroom. Faith didn’t look away as they approached the bed, expecting the room had changed as much as they both had and wanting to remember it as it had been.

One of his hands slid up her spine to cradle the back of her head. He lowered her to the mattress as if she was cherished and breakable. Her back settled onto the cool comforter and she released him with reluctance, wishing only to hold him close, to soothe him, to say with her touch and body what she knew better than to say with words. He arranged her for his pleasure, with her hips at the edge of the bed. He stood between her spread legs, a sexual fantasy come to life, exuding dominance and forceful masculinity from every pore.

He tossed her skirt out of the way and took his cock in hand. Fisting it once. Twice. Color flagging his cheekbones, a wince betraying how hard he was. She opened wider for him, her thighs falling open, followed shortly by the untying of her dress and the parting of the halves. Arching her back, Faith raised her lace covered breasts to him, remembering how he’d worshipped them in their youth. They were not what they’d been then; her body hadn’t weathered the years as well as his. But it didn’t seem to matter now. A decade slipped away as if it had never come between them at all. Here she was, only hours after his return, offering herself to him with no restraint. Desperate to regain the closeness they’d shared.

“Me vuelves loca,” he groaned, angling his penis to stroke the thick crown through the lips of her pussy, up and down, nudging her swollen clit with every pass.

Faith writhed with need, her chest tight with a yearning she was certain would destroy her when he left again. “You’re driving me crazy. Don’t tease me, Miguel.”

There was no time for teasing. The hours between now and his departure were too precious to waste. Her stomach knotted at the thought, the urgency of time running away from her filled her with aching fear. How had she lived without this… without him for so long?

He watched her face as he rubbed his satiny cockhead against her. “But you’re so beautiful like this. I’ve dreamt of you just this way.”

“Stop dreaming,” she said between clenched teeth. “Start fucking.”

There was the slightest tease of a smile, which damn near stopped her heart, then he notched the tip of his magnificent cock in the entrance to her body. “Say it again. Tell me to fuck you.”

Deliberately inciting him, she squeezed her breast is one hand and reached between her legs with the other. She scissored her fingers and gripped his shaft between her knuckles, licking her lips in blatant provocation. “Hazme el amor.”

Make love to me.

He caught his lower lip between even white teeth, his features so austerely sexual she creamed in expectation, bathing him in a fresh rush of moisture. He slid in a fraction deeper and electricity raced across her skin. It had been so long… She’d missed him so much…

He filled her with a practiced roll of his hips, stretching her delectably. The familiar feeling of utter surrender swept over her, arching her neck and closing her eyes. “Miguel.”

“Christ,” he hissed, shuddering as he touched the end of her, the lips of her sex hugging the wide root of his cock. “You’re burning up and so fucking tight. Squeezing me like a fist.”

Her hand moved to his bare hip, her heavy eyelids lifting so she could watch him move. Sex was an art for Miguel. Even as a teenager, hot with hormones and inexhaustible energy, he’d had finesse. Orgasm was a bonus for him; the buildup to getting there was what he really savored. His haste to get inside her, his crudity, told her how hurt he was and how closely he nursed that pain. How determined he was to depersonalize an act that was profoundly intimate for them. She couldn’t blame him for that, not when she was responsible. She’d made a clean break between them with the best of intentions, but regardless, she’d broken both their hearts and while he’d left her with something precious, she’d sent him off with only feelings of betrayal.

With his gaze riveted to the place where their bodies joined, Miguel pulled his heavy cock from her in a slow, wet glide. He splayed his hands on her inner thighs, his skin so dark against hers, his grip gentle but unyielding. He held her open as he surged forward, pushing pleasure through her aching body. In a deliciously erotic display of rippling abdominal muscles and powerfully veined biceps, he fucked her with perfect rhythm. He worked her pussy into a blissful relaxed state so that she took him more easily, so that each push and withdrawal became more fluid.

Faith moaned, insensate with lust and longing. Her nails, short as they were, left crescents in his skin. “You’re so big… God, it’s so good…”

“Oh yeah,” he purred, watching her with slumberous eyes. “So damn good.”

He pumped deep and rotated his hips against her, stirring her into a frenzy with his rock-hard length. Her pussy rippled with delight and he growled, grabbing her hips and lifting them into his thrusts.

His measured tempo increased, his hips churning and swiveling, his rigid penis shafting her tender pussy with relentless drives. She caught the comforter in her fists, arching into his delicious pounding. Sobbing with pleasure, she spasmed around him, so close to coming again she could taste it.

“Ah, Faith,” he grated, holding still at the deepest point and grinding her onto him, working her hips in tight circles against his pelvis. He was shoved so deep, he was touching her cervix. His chest and abdomen sheened with sweat. “You’re making me come.”

Miguel cursed with the first wrenching spurt. Clenching his jaw, he threw his head back and climaxed violently. His fingers dug with bruising force into her hips, cramming her tight against him. She felt every jerk of his cock, every scorching pulse of semen. The ferocity of his pleasure and the primal way he ensured she took every drop pushed her over the edge with him.