Hotter Than Hell(73)

But Cat didn’t speak. She pushed him away and kept pushing until he was forced off the bed. He stood there, uncertain for the first time, his eyes reflecting much more than disappointment.



Cat moved to the foot of the bed, sat on the edge and took Andrés’s cock into her mouth. He gasped in surprise and pleasure. He laced his fingers through her hair and held on as she sucked and licked and tugged, moving his hips as his breathing quickened.



Within a few minutes he was rigid and ready to come. But he drew back, panting hoarsely. He lifted her to her feet, turned her around and laid her face-down on the bed. Strong, calloused hands raised her hips and buttocks, holding her in place.



“Are you ready?” he asked softly.



“Yes. Oh, God…”



He hesitated, and for a shattering moment she thought he was going to leave her. But then, without warning, he drove into her from behind. She moaned his name. He withdrew, taking a firmer grip on her hips, and thrust again. His movements slowed. He pulled out, waited, and then slid inside with astonishing gentleness. He was massaging her to orgasm, but she didn’t want it soft. She’d gone too far.



“Harder,” she begged.



He continued to move with steady strokes. “We have waited so long,” he said. “We can wait a little longer.”



Just when Cat believed she could tolerate no more Andrés began to pump more urgently, rocking her forward with each thrust. She gasped as he reached beneath their joining and rubbed her in time to his driving rhythm. The climax was so overwhelming that she cried aloud, her body glorying in sensations she’d never known before.



Andrés remained inside her. She expected him to soften, but his cock was still firm and full. Somehow he’d brought her to orgasm without enjoying one himself.



“Andrés,” she said, her voice shaking with reaction. “You didn’t…you need to…”



He brushed damp hair from the back of her neck. “I will, mi gatita.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and turned her to face him, adjusting her legs so that she was sitting on his lap with his cock trapped between them.



Cat touched his face from the angle of his cheekbone to the straight line of his dark brows. “I never thought it could be like this.”



“It is not over, querida.”



She found his erection with her fingertips, caressing the velvety head. “Tell me what you want.”



A shudder ran through him. “Forgive me.”



“For what?” She leaned her cheek against his chest. “You’ve given me something…I didn’t even know could exist. Neal…” She bit down hard on her lip, cursing herself for even mentioning her ex-husband’s name.



But Andrés was untroubled. “You have never had a real man before. This I knew when we first met.”



She drew back and met his gaze. “But why me? Why did you seek me out? Who are you, Andrés?”



He put his finger to her lips, lifted her and eased her down onto his cock. She was so wet that there was no discomfort; she felt a tingle as if she might come all over again. But when she began to move, sliding up and down, he stopped her.



With casual strength he rose from the bed, holding her impaled, and carried her to the wall. He clasped his hands around her cheeks and supported her as if she weighed no more than cottonwood down. He held her tight as he entered her, and she recognized with disbelief that she was on the edge of another incredible orgasm. She clasped her legs around his waist, moving with him. He closed his eyes and worked until beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, plunging, grinding, pounding. The glorious pulsing started in the pit of Cat’s belly.



“Let it go,” she whispered. “Come to me.”



For a moment he gazed right into her eyes, and she saw pain and desperation and centuries of suffering.



“Forgive me,” he said hoarsely.



“Yes. Yes. I forgive—”



He stiffened, the muscles of his stomach standing out in harsh relief, his hips slamming against hers. He finished with a cry of triumph, gathering her against him as his shuddering came to an end.



Cat dropped her chin on to his shoulder, breathless and exultant. Andrés kissed her mouth and forehead and carried her back to the bed. He laid her down with her head on the pillow and smoothed the tangled sheets over her, tucking the edges under her chin as if she were a child. Then he backed away, his eyes still full of sorrow.



“Don’t go,” she said, reaching for his hand.



He glanced toward the window. “There is little time.”