Carlos grabs my calf and pulls me back flat on my tummy. “Ah ah, mi amor. That’s not taking it like a good girl.” He tries again to prise open my cheeks, but I list to the side, rolling to press my ass to the bedspread.
Amusement lights Carlos’ handsome face. He’s on his knees beside me, holding a tube of lubricant in his hand, but he drops the lube and grasps both my ankles. Connecting them in one large hand, he holds them high and delivers several sharp slaps to my ass.
I shriek in surprise at the spanks and the shockingly vulnerable position, my ass in the air, lady parts exposed. Carlos tilts my legs toward my head and dribbles some lube into my ass crack.
“Carlos.” I’m whimpering now. Anal sex is totally not something I’m prepared to give him, no matter how hot and bothered he has me.
He leans over and kisses my smarting cheeks. “Shh, beautiful wolf. You have nothing to fear from me.”
The flutters in my belly say different, but as I analyze the statement, I know he’s right. I trust this male not to harm me. Even so, I shake my head.
Carlos picks up what must be a butt plug-I’ve never seen one before, but I can guess at its use-and brings the tip to my anus. “This is your punishment, mi amor.” He lifts my ankles-not high enough to pull my pelvis up off the bed this time-and nudges the bulbous tip of the slender stainless steel plug against my back hole.
My anus clenches, then, against my will, my body opens for it. Carlos presses his advantage, easing the plug into me. The sensation is at once delicious and horrifying. I don’t want to like it, but I do. Pleasure floods me as he works the cool metal phallus deeper. It’s not too big, so while there’s a sensation of stretching and filling, there’s no discomfort, other than my embarrassment at having an object up my ass. He pushes it in until it seats, then rolls me to my belly and gives my ass a light slap.
I’m oddly disgruntled, not about having the plug in my ass, but now that it’s in, I’m needy and flushed, wanting more. “Carlos?”
“Madre de Dios, yes, Sedona. Keep saying my name in that throaty voice of yours. It makes me want to jack off and come all over you.”
A shocked little gust comes out of me-half laugh, half moan. Like before, I hike up my ass, offering an invitation for him to take what he’s already claimed.
Fates know I want his cock again, just as badly as I’d wanted it the night he marked me.
He groans. “Are you offering me that pretty little pussy of yours, ángel?” He slips his fingers between my legs and strokes my slit.
My eyes roll back in my head. “Yes, Carlos.” I hardly recognize my wanton moan.
Carlos dips into my juices and coats my inner lips with my own natural lubrication, circling my clit with maddening slowness. Then, at the same time, he starts to move the slender butt plug in and out of my ass.
I shout with surprise, the intensity of pleasure and need catapulting me into overdrive.
“C-Carlos!”
“You like that, doll?”
“Oh fates, please!”
“Please, what, beautiful?”
“Please don’t stop. Please, faster-Carlos!” I try to convey my urgency by beating my feet on the bed, like a swimmer’s kick, only from just the knees.
Somehow, despite my lack of sexual experience, I’m quite sure that the only thing better would be penetration of my pussy, too. As if Carlos reads my mind, he glides two fingers inside me, pumping them alternately with the plug.
My moans meld into one long, guttural cry. Probably everyone in the damn hotel can hear me, but whatever. It’s Paris. “Carlos, Carlos, please,” I beg. I seriously want to weep-I’m so wound up, need release so badly.
Carlos starts plunging his fingers and the plug at the same time, fast, and stars burst before my eyes. I feel like I’m hurtling into a dark tunnel on a roller coaster. It’s Space Mountain all the way as everything in me shoots toward the finish line. It’s more like a portal, than a line, though, because the second I pass through it, my body tightens and squeezes, wringing every last bit of pleasure out while my mind, my consciousness, soars. I coast into outer space, flung so far and so high I can’t even remember my name. My age. My species.
And then I’m back. Panting into the bedspread as Carlos eases both his fingers and the plug from my body. He trails kisses across my lower back before he disappears to the bathroom to use the sink.
I’m boneless, incapable of moving from where I seem to have melted into the bed. When Carlos returns, he releases my wrists and gathers me up into his arms.
“Okay, ángel?”
Somehow I manage to nod. I try to make my lips move, to ask about his pleasure. I’d invite him to satisfy his earlier expressed fantasy of jacking off all over me, but no sound comes out.
Carlos presses a bottle of water to my lips and I drink.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs in awe.
I don’t need to be told-as an alpha female, it’s something I’ve always known, but he doesn’t seem to be saying it for my benefit. More like an observation he can’t help but make.
“Are you hungry, mi amor? I bought some snacks for us, too.”
I manage a weak nod. “When were you planning to feed me them?” I ask when he returns with a container of fresh strawberries, a baguette, and a jar of Nutella.
“I hadn’t figured that part out yet.” His rueful grin is humble and handsome and my remaining annoyance melts away. This is the male I remember from that cell in Mexico. The male I formed a bond with, whether I like it or not. He dips a strawberry into the Nutella and holds it up to my lips.