Masters at Arms - By Kallypso Masters Page 0,33
forearms and pumped harder. The pressure on her chest caused a moment of panic. Sweat broke out on her forehead. Breathe, Savi. Just breathe. Rather than closing his eyes, he stared intently at her. She couldn’t look away from his gaze either. The panic eased a bit. Not completely gone, but manageable. She’d never connected on such a personal level with another human being.
He groaned and she felt the crest of another orgasm rising up inside her. Good Lord! Again? So soon? The muscles of her vagina pulsated around him, milking him dry. She closed her eyes and threw her head back in abandon. Her screams of release coincided with his earthy curse as he exploded inside her.
Her body convulsed around him as the aftershocks wracked her body. As she floated back to earth, she felt his forehead pressed to her breast as he gasped for air. She needed to get him off her chest. Smothering.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and grasped the sides of his head to pull him away until their gazes met. He looked disconnected. Lost. Oh, no! Hadn’t it been good for him? She’d become so used to just letting men do as they pleased with her body—an object, nothing but a receptacle—that she didn’t have the first clue how to give back. She’d never been emotionally engaged in the sex act before.
Tears burned against the backs of her eyes. Why couldn’t she quit crying? She hadn’t given in to tears for such a long time. Now she was crying all the time.
She looked at Damián as he gasped for air. He’d done all the work. Was there something she was supposed to do now? Had she failed him?
“Fucking unbelievable.” He smiled.
Oh, Lord. He liked it! A laugh of relief bubbled up inside her. His earthy language turned her on. He could talk dirty to her all day long.
“You can say that again.”
“I’d rather do it again.”
She realized he was still hard inside her. Worried again, she asked, “Didn’t you come?”
“Oh, yeah, bebé. But let’s do it again before my dick gets the message.”
Good Lord! Her prior experience had been with her father, who took hours to be ready to go at it again. Thank God. She’d never had sex with anyone close to her own age before.
Most days, she felt more like ninety herself. Still, she’d had three orgasms in a matter of a few minutes. With a stranger, no less. And why didn’t she care? Today, she just wanted to feel young, carefree—and alive.
Damián had given her the most beautiful experience of her life. But he only made her want more. She didn’t want this day to ever end. She pulled his mouth toward her and just before they made contact, she whispered, “Fuck me.”
* * *
An hour later, Damián collapsed onto his back on the wet sand. Mierda, he couldn’t get enough of this woman. Her screams reverberated around the walls of his mind from her last orgasm. How many was that for her now? Six? Seven? Madre de Dios.
When he thought he could string two coherent words together again, he raised himself onto his side and propped his head into his cupped hand. He just stared down at her, his hand playing with the strands of her hair curled around one of her tits.
She smiled up at him, but he saw sadness in her expression. Regrets already?
“What are you thinking, querida?” he asked.
“I wish we could stay here forever.”
Ah, now that kind of regret he could live with. He bent down and kissed her, gently this time. So sweet. Pure torture. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to make love again and didn’t care. He just wanted to feel her lips, her body, against his. As if ruled by a mind of its own, his hand reached out to cup her firm breast. He couldn’t keep his hands or lips off her.
But he knew they couldn’t stay here forever. He wondered what she was going to do now. He hoped she wouldn’t return to being a paid escort. She deserved a better life than that.
Raising his head again to look at her, he asked, “If you could have any job you wanted, what would it be?”
He watched her teeth trap the corner of her bottom lip between them and she puckered her brow as she thought about the question. Then she smiled and shrugged, as if it were a pipe dream. “A social worker. I’d like to work with abused