Work Me Up

I’ve never been with anyone who makes me feel quite the way Selena does. She turns me on, yes, but she also makes me want more than just heat and passion and sex. She makes me want to get to know her. To peel back her layers, uncover her mysteries. To understand the way she ticks, the way her mind words. Why she makes all the decisions she does, everything from why she lives alone and without her parents’ money or support, to why she agreed to her dad’s demands at all — helping me fix up my car by hand, when she knew nothing about how to fix cars in the first place. And why something about the car itself clearly triggered something troubling for her yesterday.

I want to know why she’s willing to come back to the garage after she practically fled it in horror the last time she was there.

And, I’ll admit it, I want to know who the guy is in all her photographs. Because when we make it back to her place, it’s empty. Devoid of signs of anyone else living here. So at the very least I don’t think it’s a roommate or a current boyfriend. But I can’t figure it out. Can’t figure out why his gaze seems to pierce straight out of the photos, staring straight at me when we stumble onto the couch and I pin her beneath me.

Finally, I wind up rolling over to drag Selena onto my lap, just to block my view of the damn photograph across the room.

At least her body makes me forget about it. Forget about anything, in fact, except for how smooth and perfect her skin feels underneath my fingertips. How fucking gorgeous she looks straddling me, as I peel off that sundress and let her undo the zip of my jeans, push them down hard and fast, like she’s dying for the same thing I want right now.

We’re both so fucking hungry every time we’re together. We can never quite get enough of one another. And I hope we never do.

Finally, when we’ve both stripped down, I pull her down against me, guide my cock up into her tight pussy. I grip her hips hard, take control as I thrust up into her, and I savor the view as she rides me, her head falling back, her breasts in the perfect position for me to lick, suck, nip at them as her hips grind into mine, and her whole body rises and falls while she rides my cock.

I have never been with a woman like Selena Brown.

And later that night, when we finally collapse into her bed, exhausted from three rounds with a break for ice cream dessert and a shower in between, I know I never will be again. I curl around her, holding her tight in my arms as I listen to the way her breathing slows and evens out, grows steady next to me, and I realize… I’ll do anything I have to do in order to keep this girl.

Anything at all.

9

Selena

I wake up the next morning with the familiar blinding light through my window piercing my eyelids. At first, I don’t even realize anything has changed.

Not until I shift and realize there’s a heavy, reassuring arm draped around my waist. A warm body pressed up against mine in the bed. I roll over, as gently as I can, and my heart skips a beat in my chest as my gaze lands on Antonio, sound asleep beside me.

Only then do I freeze, my brain helpfully replaying the night over again.

The long walk by the beach. Our conversation over dinner. Everything else that happened during and after dinner. The way he got me so turned on last night that at one point I swear I saw stars behind my eyelids when I came, screaming his name.

But it’s more than just the sex. The way he talks to me, asks me questions, tries to support me and speak up for me… This feels like more than just a fling. Like he’s really trying to get to know me, to peel back my layers to the real me.

But that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. A pit forms in my stomach, tight and growing tighter the longer I watch him doze, his whole body relaxed as he sleeps. Because Antonio, he’s a normal person. A guy who knows what he wants from life, who has it all figured out. He’s got his passion and he’s chasing it.

Not to mention, he doesn’t have anything holding him back. No hang ups from his past. No shadows haunting him.

Holding my breath, moving as slowly as possible so as not to disturb him, I inch toward my side of the bed, and gently slide out from beneath Antonio’s arm. The moment I let his arm fall to the mattress, he lets out a low sound, almost a little growl of protest, and reaches out. His hand catches my pillow instead, and he curls his arm around it, dragging it to his chest, protective, like he even his subconscious is reaching out for me. He thinks I’m still lying there with him, and he’s drawing me in, trying to be a shelter for me, even in his sleep.