Our tongues tangle for a minute, then he pulls back just enough to ask, “Do you taste your pussy on my lips, Mia?”
His hands move to his belt buckle, ripping it off and tossing it in the floor before unzipping his slacks.
I take the few seconds to catch my breath, and to my relief, he rips open a foil packet and slides on a condom.
“Touch me.”
I swallow, allowing my hands to roam his body as he comes down on top of me, not entering me yet, just kissing me, giving me time to explore him. I haven’t done this before, for obvious reasons, but I like it. My fingers caress muscles, skate down his flat abdomen. Feeling a little timid, I grasp his cock, enjoying the subtle sounds he makes as I guide him between my legs.
I arch as he pushes inside me, slowly, but stretching me. He doesn’t want to hurt me this time, so he keeps pace, waiting for my body to adjust to his size. I’m wet, but his girth takes some getting used to no matter how prepared you think you are.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
I nod, and he starts kissing my neck again, sending shivers everywhere. My body finally relaxes under his ministrations. He pulls out slowly and pushes back in with far more ease this time. I lock my legs around him, looking into his dark brown eyes, completely aware I’m out of my league by a huge margin.
His pace picks up and he’s fucking me good, murmuring things like, “You like my cock deep inside you, Mia?” and “Your pussy feels so good, sweetheart.”
For the most part, I’m just trying to hold on as he buries his huge cock inside me over and over again.
“Harder,” I finally challenge, burying my face in his shoulder.
Mateo chuckles, obeying me for once. Pounding me relentlessly until pleasure erupts and sweeps over with me with such intensity that I scream, digging my nails into his back. He hisses, still pumping into me, and then groans with his own release, thrusting his hips slowly, wringing every last second of pleasure he can from my body.
This time when he collapses on top of me, I wrap my arms around him and hold him close. My body is still weightless from the orgasm, but I know reality is just on the other side of the wall, and I’m not ready for that.
I knew I would be entertaining at a poker game tonight, but I didn’t know the bet with the highest stakes would be mine.
A few minutes pass, then he finally musters the energy to push up off the couch. I watch him as he heads over to the counter, grabbing a paper towel to clean up.
“Condoms are lame,” he informs me.
“Condoms are necessary,” I disagree. Then, since there’s probably not going to be a better time, I go ahead and ask, “What if I’m pregnant?”
He shrugs, dropping the soiled napkin into a garbage can and walking back over to me. “I still need a son.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking,” he informs me, but lightly.
I want to point out it could be another daughter, but this whole topic makes me sweat, so I drop it.
Mateo rights himself, straightening his clothes and raking a hand through his hair. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.”
My face falls, a ball of dread dropping into my stomach.
He glances back at me over his shoulder. “Just kidding.”
“You’re a bastard,” I inform him, still a little uneasy.
“In every sense of the word.” Finally he walks to the door, pulling it open. “When you’re presentable, come back out. We’ll wrap this up soon and I’ll get you home.”
It’s a little surreal and I’m still afraid to trust it, but at this point, what choice do I have?
—
The excitement of the night has worn off, and by the time I’m slogging back to Vince’s bedroom with my heels dangling from my fingers, smelling strongly of sex and cigars, nervousness has moved into the space containing all my hope when I struck a deal with the devil.
I don’t know if I did the right thing. I don’t know what will happen tonight. I don’t know what I’m coming home to.
It’s close to three am, so I shouldn’t be surprised to see him on the couch, asleep, failing in his mission to wait up for me.
I’m so relieved. Stripping the clothes off and shoving them in the dirty laundry basket, I tiptoe to the bathroom and take the opportunity to scrub Mateo off my skin. I stay in the shower, scrubbing until my skin’s red and agitated, letting the hot water beat on me until there’s none left. My mind swims with guilt and fear, but I don’t want to psych myself up. I told Vince I’d wake him up when I got home, so I still have to face him tonight, and I don’t know how.