8. Carmen

CHAPTER 8

CARMEN

Nerves were a bitch.

My knee bounced as I stared at my phone, Andres’ text on my screen.

Andres: Something came up. Have to stay in my office late. Sorry!

Logically, I was overreacting. No one had seen me. There hadn’t been a soul out when I slipped out of his house and rushed home. Not even a car. I was being ridiculous.

But after changing out of the shirt I had accidently taken from his place and rushed back to work, I couldn’t kick the feeling someone was watching me. That someone knew exactly what I had done in Andres’ bed. I couldn’t shake the nerves even after he texted me. I walked home alone after work. My overactive imagination fully expected the cops to be at my place.

But there hadn’t been anyone or anything.

The doorbell rang while I sipped chamomile tea on an empty stomach, trying to calm my nerves. I jumped out of my skin. I was a terrible person. I had entered someone’s home without their permission. And then I’d… masturbated on their bed!

Who am I? Who does that!

Guilt ate at me while fear crept up the back of my neck and held me in a chokehold. But I couldn’t get myself to regret it. Not when the excitement of it and the fantasy of Andres was so crystal clear in my head. Stitch barked and went running through the house to the front door.

The doorbell rang again, and I stood, sure I’d been caught. My beautiful dog looked at me, his head tilted like he was wondering why I wasn’t moving faster. I made my way toward the door like I was a dead woman walking, almost positive it was the cops. They’d come to take me in for lewd acts and breaking and entering. Dramatic much? I opened the door. I wasn’t sure I was relieved it wasn’t the school police but Andres, standing there with an apologetic look on his face. Stitch barked again, poking his face between the door and me.

“Hey.” Andres smiled and bent down. “Nice to meet you in person, Stitch.” My dog barked again, enjoying the head rubs Andres was giving him. “Hi.” The guy of every dirty fantasy I’d been having looked up at me. “How are you?”

“Good. Umm, you?”

“Good. Finally off work.” He shrugged before standing up. Sensing he wasn’t going to get any more attention, and that Andres wasn’t a threat, Stitch ran back to his spot in the living room. “Sorry about not being there after work. I had a video conference meeting that could have been an email,” he explained out of nowhere.

Like he genuinely felt bad for missing our walk home. His eyes caught mine, and all the nerves and fear melted away. My shoulders dropped and relief washed over me. Somehow, like he was in tune with my emotions, Andres closed the space between us, crossing the threshold of my house for the first time. The tips of our shoes bumped, and when his hand rose up to touch me, I didn’t flinch. If anything, I found myself moving closer into his caress. He tucked stray hair behind my ear, and my eyes fluttered shut. With one simple tender touch, Andres somehow made the world make sense.

All from a small touch.

“I ordered a pizza,” he shared, breaking the intense silence. My eyes opened slowly, and I let myself drown in the dark pools of his gaze.

“Oh?” Pizza?

“Yeah.” His eyes smoldered, an underlying intensity in his dark gaze. “You talked up that Grid Iron Pizzeria so much, I had to try it,” he explained further. “Wanna share it with me?”

“Oh!” My eyes widened. Everything inside of me, even the cynical side that had stopped fighting the attraction I felt for him, wanted me to give in. The whole sneaking into his place thing had really done that. “That sounds good,” I agreed, and my stomach flipped at the panty-melting smile he gave me.

“I’m glad you said yes.” He leaned against the doorway, pulling me into him. I rested my hands on his chest while I stared up at him. He felt so solid and strong. Safe. “That could have been a little awkward.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, trying to focus on anything other than how his body felt and how good he smelled.

“Because…” His fingers stroked the edge of my chin before sliding down to hold the side of my neck. There was a possessiveness in his touch that I liked. One that if anyone else had tried would have frightened me, but not with Andres. “I ordered it to be delivered here. Food should be here in”—his eyes dropped to the watch on his wrist—“thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes, huh?” I asked.

My head filled with a gazillion different ways we could stay busy for a half hour. And all those were us without our clothes on. I shut my eyes and stepped back. What am I doing? I wasn’t this sex-starved maniac.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. His apology made me realize what I was doing. I was giving him the wrong impression. Andres wasn’t Sam. Andres, for as pushy and odd he was at the beginning, was so much more. His hand dropped to his side, not pushing me away but making it clear he wasn’t a threat. “If you don’t want to have dinner, you can keep the pizza––“

“No!” I cut him off. “That’s not it.” I shook my head, peeling my body off his. Without thinking, my hand found his and I was pulling him. “I’d love to have dinner with you. Come in,” I invited him inside, and I had a feeling it was an invitation for more than my house. And by the way he stared at me, he knew that. He shut the door behind him. We were all alone.

I’d been alone with men after my divorce. I wasn’t some kind of wilting wallflower. But Andres was the first man I had been interested in. Nerves started to prickle to life for a whole new reason.

“Would you like something to drink or––“ I was about to drop his hand when he squeezed and tugged, making me look at him.

“Come here.” There was nothing soft about his request.

“What?” My eyes widened and a tremble washed through me.

“Come here.” His hand dropped mine, and I frowned.

“I am here ––“

“Here.” He quirked his finger, gesturing me to move toward him. I would have thought a demand like that would put me off. I would have told any other man exactly where he could go.

But again, Andres was different. The trust I had in the man was ridiculous. We’d just met. Hell, how long had it taken me to see Sam’s true colors? I shook the thought away and went to him.

And not a voice or red flag whispered in the back of my head.

Standing right in front of him, I tipped my head back to look up. In this position, our size difference was obvious. He could easily overpower me. Manhandle me in any way he saw fit. I wasn’t worried about that.

His hand found mine and lifted it up between us. My lungs seized as I realized what he was doing. His lips touched my knuckles, his dark gaze unblinking and locked with mine. And I saw it. A flash of darkness and awareness. A deep almost animalistic sound vibrated through him, and I didn’t know what was happening until he lifted my hand up higher, putting my wrist just under his nose, and I knew without a doubt I’d been caught. I’d washed my hands, but no matter how many times I washed, the spritz of his cologne I’d sprayed on wouldn’t go away.

“We have some things to talk about, don’t we, princess?” Shit. He knows. He really, really knows.

“Andres,” I whispered. My body trembled. Nerves and excitement but not an ounce of fear washed through me. That deep rumbly sound vibrated through his chest again.

“Fucking love how you say my name, babe,” he praised, and I smiled. Searing wet heat pooled between my thighs. “We need to talk,” he repeated.

Before I could blink, I was up in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist. But he didn’t take us to the couch. Nope. The big guy stomped his way down a hall much like his, carrying me like I weighed nothing more than a bag of flour. But he didn’t go in. He stopped at my bedroom door. I searched his eyes, but he had a plan; I could see it in his stare.

Andres pressed my body against the wall with so much care and gentleness that not even the frames hung just by my head moved. His angular nose brushed against mine and my lips parted. The warm air of his exhale touched my lips like a whispered kiss, and I needed so much more.

“Andres,” I whispered, but he tsked me.

“Uh-uh, pretty girl. You smell like me.”

“I, umm…” I couldn’t come up with an explanation.

“I like you smelling like me. Don’t get me wrong. I fucking love it.” His hand brought mine up again, and he sniffed my wrist again. The sight of him smelling me while his hips rolled and his hardness pressed against my belly had me close to seeing stars. It was so hot, and who knew the small patch of skin had so many nerve endings?

“Did you like my place?” he asked roughly, and I gasped. He knows! I’ve definitely been caught. Oh god, does that mean he knows what I did in his bed?

“Umm, I can explain,” I started to say. “I tossed Stitch the ball too high and ––“

“Don’t lie to me, Carmen. Not to me.” His lips grazed my chin, and I trembled with an ache I’d never felt.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“For?”

“Sneaking in,” I admitted just above a hushed whisper.

“And what did you do inside of my house, baby?” My gaze dropped to his neck, pinned on his prominent Adam’s apple.

“Andres—“

“Sir,” he corrected. My head touched the wall as it tilted back to look him in the eye. “Sir,” he repeated, and I licked my lips.

I’d been right.

He liked control and power. Control and power I wanted nothing more than to hand over to him. To give him everything because I knew he’d never let me fall.

“Sir.” The word slipped past my lips, and it felt right. Oh, so right. “I looked around your kitchen, Sir.”

“And did you like it?” His eyes were soft yet studious. I nodded, and his lips tipped upward. “What else did you do in my place, baby girl?” He slowly let my body slip down the wall until my feet touched the ground.

“I, umm, I, uh… well, I went into your bathroom.”

“Hmm and sprayed my cologne on you?” he guessed, and I nodded again. His head dipped down to touch his forehead against mine. “I like the idea of you smelling like me while you were at work. Helping me make sure other assholes around you know you’re taken. We can’t have them getting any ideas.”

“Sir,” I whispered. We were compatible. More than I could have ever wished. My body shook with excitement. I didn’t think there was an inch of my body that wasn’t covered in gooseflesh.

“What else did you do, sweetness?” He took my right hand in his and again raised it between us.

“Sir?” My voice shuddered as my body swayed closer. His lips touched each knuckle before he lifted the tips of my fingers to his mouth. Logically, I knew he couldn’t taste me Yet the sight of pleasure on his face as he licked and sucked on my fingers made me press my thighs together tightly, trying to find some relief for the white-hot visceral need growing inside of me.

“Did my princess touch that pretty pussy of hers in my bed?” I moaned at the dirty way he talked to me.

“Yes,” I confessed, and before I could think of something to say, his lips were on mine.

Tender yet firm.

Demanding yet yielding.

His hands strong as they held my face. One dragged down and wrapped around my neck, and I melted into him. My mouth parted, and he didn’t hesitate to plunder it with his tongue. It swept in and out, sliding against mine. His taste blossomed, and I moaned. He swallowed the sound, pulled my lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it to the point of slight pain. When he let it go with a pop, I breathed in deep and whimpered when his mouth didn’t find mine again.

“Fuck,” he cursed, and my back hit the wall again. This time with a little less gentleness than just a moment earlier. When I looked down to see what he was doing, I let my head rest against the wall. His hands frantically worked the waistband of the sleeping shorts I had changed into after work. Pulling them down, he growled.

“No panties?” he asked the moment our eyes connected. I shook my head before my eyes shut as I focused on every sound and breath he took. “Such a fucking good girl, aren’t you. My good bad girl.” His hands gripped my hips.

“Open,” he ordered, and I did. Not a second later, I felt his tongue on me. My mouth opened, but not a sound came out. Not anything like the ones he made. The man was good. I’d known he would be, but I had no idea how good. Nothing could have prepared me for the way he ate me. The way it felt. Like he was drawing more pleasure out of it than what he was giving. He brought my knee up and over his shoulder, hiking me a little higher on the wall.

“Oh god,” I squeaked.

“Be good for me, Carmen,” he warned.

“Fuck,” I cursed.

My hips started to work against his tongue, and when his finger dipped inside of me, I cried out his name. Every sound and breath seemed to break his control. When I glanced down, I noticed in my lust-drunk haze that his dick was out. Red and mottled, almost angry-looking. I was lost in my own moment, but even then, just the sight of him made me wetter. The way he held his thick, heavy length in his big hand was erotic. He was playing with himself.

So needy he couldn’t wait.

There was something so hot about that, my hands itched to touch him, but in the position we were in, it wasn’t possible. But the sight of him? Drunk on lust and need, having to find that release while he ate me? That edged me closer to my orgasm. I was close. So close I could taste it. He was so hot. Big and strong and manly. That big hand wrapped around his thick beautiful dick was a sight to behold.

“Andres,” I hissed. He groaned with pleasure. “Oh god! Sir, I’m— I’m— I’m—“ I started to pant. I couldn’t string the words together. Not when a finger skimmed my other hole and pressed on it. He didn’t penetrate my ass, but the tease of it was enough for me. My body buckled before I could even let him know and bright lights shot behind my eyes. Wetness gushed as relief and ecstasy flowed through me, leaving me a shaky, weak-in-the-knees mess that was holding on to Andres’ hair for dear life.

“Oh.” I licked my lips, letting the grip I had on his tresses soften.

I stroked his scalp, and when our eyes connected, his tongue swiped at my oversensitive clit. And then again and again. I didn’t know it was possible in real life. Sure, I’d read about multiple orgasms in books or had seen it in movies and had always assumed it was a fantasy. But right then and there, Andres showed me it was more than possible.

Before I knew it, I was tumbling over the crest of bliss again, and this time when I reached it, all against the wall in front of my bedroom, I felt his warm release splash on my thighs. He rested his forehead against my abdomen while we caught our breath. I couldn’t stop touching him. Stroking his hair and shoulder. When he pulled back and our eyes connected, I didn’t have to worry about what he thought about me sneaking into his place and about what I’d done. By the look on his face and everything we’d just done, it seemed he was more than okay with it.

It should have raised a red flag.

What kind of man would be okay with a woman creeping around and lurking in his space without his permission? But in the haze of the passionate bubble we’d just came up for air from, I didn’t overthink. Especially not when he rose to his feet and without a word lifted me into his arms like a groom would with his new bride and kicked my bedroom door open.

When he crossed the threshold of my bedroom, I knew what was going to happen.

I wasn’t nervous or scared.

I was excited.

And I genuinely couldn’t wait to see what Andres was about to do next.