After I unfastened his jeans, I pushed them over his hips. He lifted off the chair for me, and I slowly lowered them to reveal his erection, swollen and rigid. To say I was impressed would have been an understatement. I pushed his jeans past his knees and wedged myself between them. I wanted to taste him. To graze my teeth over the length of him. To swallow his excitement until need gripped him so hard he had no choice but to come in my mouth.
But I didn’t. I wanted him inside me even more, and I was running out of time.
Instead, I leaned forward and ran my tongue from the base of his cock to the tip. He stiffened, his muscles tensed to the consistency of marble. When I crawled onto his lap, took his erection into my hand, and slid the entire length of it inside me in one smooth effort, his groan caressed my senses. Pushed me higher.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, grabbed handfuls of his hair, and moved. Slowly at first. Rocking my hips ever so slightly. Stoking the embers inside me, giving them time to ignite. Then faster. Letting the pressure in my abdomen grow with each stroke. With each driving thrust.
Then I felt it. The first quiver of orgasm. Just a tiny tremor, a spark in the deepest nether regions of my body like a white-hot pinpoint of energy.
He felt it, too. I could tell when he stilled. When he closed his eyes. When he clenched his jaw.
It grew with the speed of a lightning strike. Spread. Pooled in my abdomen like molten lava until the pressure exploded and spilled over me with the sweetest sensation known to mankind.
The strap broke, but Reyes kept his word. He wrapped his hands around the back of the chair, his knuckles solid white as his own orgasm rocketed through him. He groaned as the sting washed over him. Bucked as the last remnants pulsed through him.
I held him to me so tightly I feared he might suffocate, but he didn’t seem to mind. Then I realized I’d heard a sharp crack. I leaned back. He’d broken the chair. The metal chair. That was going to be difficult to explain.
The timer dinged, and he dropped the back of the chair and wrapped his arms around me. It surprised me at first. His hold was tight but tender, his breaths hoarse and ragged. I held his head to my chest for a long time, and I didn’t want to let go. I never wanted to let go.
If not for Sumi sneaking in to turn the slow cooker down as we sat entwined in the broken chair, then leaving without making a sound, pretending she didn’t see us, I might never have. But we both started laughing when she left, and the time had come for me to let him breathe again. I shimmied off him, scooped up my things, and headed to the bathroom to clean up while he pulled his jeans over his hips.
After grabbing his jacket, I waited as he turned off the kitchen lights. We walked out the back door, locking it behind us.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as he walked me to Mable’s car. He slipped his fingers into mine and we walked like high school sweethearts, hand in hand.
He had what I realized was his black truck parked across the street or I would’ve offered him a ride.
“Why didn’t you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice sincere.
Even though it was embarrassing, I told him the truth. “Partly because that would be giving you too much control over me.”
He nodded, not the least bit offended. “And the other part?”
“Because I don’t deserve your touch.”
“What do you mean?”
I dismissed it with a laugh. “Never mind. I don’t know.”
“Please, tell me.”
Even more embarrassed, I scraped my foot along the pavement. “I think I’m a bad person.” When he started to argue, I said, “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I can tell when a person is bad just by looking at them. I don’t know why and I don’t understand how and I don’t expect you to believe me, but I can tell when a person is bad. And trust me when I say I’m a bad person.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You know I’m not. You have good instincts as well. You have to sense what kind of person I am. Why else would I be here? Why