Mr Garcia

Our bodies work well together. He’s big, strong, dominant and, well, it turns out that I like being dominated by him.

Who knew?

I’m taking this little thing between us as a break from reality. For however long it lasts—I’m predicting it won’t be for much longer—I’m going to enjoy the ride because men who look and fuck like Sebastian Garcia are a rarity.

He’s a precious diamond in the rough. The pinnacle of a woman’s sexual experiences.

I’m twenty-five and in my prime. I have no commitments, and I like handing my power over to him. He knows exactly what to do with it. No man has ever satisfied me like he does. The sex we have is out of this world.

So fucking hot.

Andrew walks past with his earpiece in. “Cartier, your key is at the front desk. You are on the other side of the hotel tonight.”

I frown. “The civilian side?”

The hotel has two towers. One for the Escape Club, the other for regular hotel visitors.

“Yeah, that’s it. The penthouse, Tower One.”

The girl standing next to me hisses, “Lucky bitch.”

I smile, and with one last look at myself, I make my way to reception to grab the key and make my way to the penthouse of Tower One.

Standing at the door, I let out a deep, shaky breath to brace myself. I’m nervous tonight. For many reasons, I guess. The main one being close to him.

I swipe my card to open the door, and my senses are instantly overloaded.

Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye is playing through the speakers. It’s the song I walked down the catwalk to on that second night.

I walk through the luxurious foyer to see him standing by the window in a black dinner suit. His back is to me as he stares out over the city with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

I watch him uninterrupted for a moment. Tall, dark and handsome, but it’s his persona that is calling to me. There’s a sexuality about him that’s deep and ingrained into his psyche. Hell, I’m addicted.

“Hello.”

He turns, and his eyes drop down my body and back up to my face. “Hello.” He lifts the glass to his lips. “You look beautiful,” he says after taking a drink.

I smile bashfully as I walk toward him. “So do you.”

He puts his drink down and meets me halfway. As soon as we connect, we kiss. Our eyes close, and he holds my face in the way he always does. The kiss is deep and passionate, as if we haven’t seen each other in forever.

Words aren’t necessary when we’re together, it’s like we speak another language, or maybe it’s that our bodies do all the talking. “Hi,” he mumbles against my mouth.

I smile with him. “Why do you turn me into a sex maniac, Mr. Garcia?”

He chuckles and leads me to the bar. “I’m afraid you have that the wrong way around.”

He fills two glasses of champagne and passes me one. He taps the top of his glass against mine.

“I think we’ve said all of twenty words to each other since we met.”

I smile around my glass, knowing that he’s completely right.

His hungry eyes drop down my body and, as if unable to help it, he runs his hand down my chest and cups my breast through my shirt. “I like you dressed like this.”

“I prefer you naked,” I retort.

He raises a brow. “I promised myself that we would at least have a conversation.” His eyes drop to my lips, distracted.

“Talking is overrated. I prefer to use my tongue on better things,” I tell him.

He inhales sharply. “Please don’t let me stand in your way. What do I know?”

I walk up to him, and I grab his crotch through his trousers. “You’ve got something I want, Mr. Garcia.”

He takes a sip of his champagne.

I put my mouth to his ear. “I want to lick you up and drink you down.”

He grabs a handful of my hair. “Then get on your fucking knees.”

I whimper, the grip on my hair painful as he pushes me to the floor.

He swiftly has his fly undone and his hard cock at the back of my throat. I gag.

He’s too big.

He smiles darkly and eases out a little. Then, he places his hands on the back of my head and pumps my throat, pushing himself in deep.

I whimper, and he tips his head back in ecstasy.

His eyes darken as he watches me and I get the feeling I’m going to get it hard in a minute. Real Hard.

“Fuck… me,” he pants.

I pull off him and smile, “Now, isn’t that better than pointless conversation?” I run my hands up his thick quads.

“I’d have to agree,” he chuckles

We lie naked, facing each other. It’s late.

The moonlight filters through the room, casting a magical spell.

I don’t know how many times we’ve had sex now, but with every earth-shattering orgasm I fall a little harder for Mr. Garcia.