Savage Unapologetic(44)

"Got it," I quickly replied. "Got it," I muttered more to myself as Martin gave me an approving smile before he went over to Juan to go over the scene with him for the last time.

Once the directors pulled away from the main set and went behind the shadows, joining the four-man crew, I knew we were minutes away from show time.

My breathing became ragged. Adrenaline coursed through me. Strung high, wildly pumping through my veins. I tilted my head to look at Juan. And just then, the man disrobed, showcasing the tiny nude stretchy material that hid his jewels. My eyes wouldn't pull away as I noticed how the tiny scrap barely covered his manhood. It looked as though it was about to combust out of it. Like it was being choked and it couldn't bloody breathe.

Shaking my head as I reluctantly dragged my eyes away from his impressiveness, my hands slightly quivered as my fingers began to untangle the knot that secured my almost nakedness. While the male counterpart had their itsy-bitsy coverage, I didn't have any, so when it was time for me to slide my silk robe off my body, I steeled myself within, shoving my physical and mental insecurities aside. I successfully emerged as Andy, channeling the character that was about to be ravished.

Uno …

Dos …

Tres …

Acción.

Full into character mode, my heart rammed against my breast as I slowly poured the wine from across the room. I took my time filling one azure glass, then the other. My provocative movements were leisured and paced. Intentional.

I could feel the heat of his eyes following every movement I made. The intensity told me he was studying the dips and arches of my back, the suppleness and curves of my ass, and he was pleased with my bare display. He loved watching me just as he did when he randomly spotted me in a club two weeks before. A happenstance, it seemed.

He'd craved to taste me for years. In those strenuous years, the hunger hadn't dissipated; it had thrived like a good, aged wine. The longer the wait, the better the taste. My body would be that wine, his to savor, his to devour until he quenched the thirst he had curbed for years.

I meant to take it slow given our history. But tonight, something had broken that barrier. Our resistance challenged. And I was ready to reward him.

Maybe it was the way his fevered kisses left me wanton and wanting. Or the way his roughened hands would desperately seek the wet softness between my legs. Whatever it was, Enrique was ready to take his prize-me, all of me.



       
         
       
        

"Ven a mi." Come to me, he commanded without softness, yet it was gruff. Full of promise. Three words. Enough to depict his teetering hunger.

He only spoke to me in Spanish, and on occasion, English when it was necessary. Most of the time, he spoke to me in his native tongue. A seductive tone. A lover's promise. My grip on the language wasn't masterful, but I understood enough.

"Tan hermosa, mi tesoro." So beautiful, my treasure.

Nonchalantly holding both azure goblets, I spun around, barefoot, ready to face my soon-to-be lover as I sashayed towards him with my long slip of a dress. My lips slightly parted as my hips made quite an emphasis with each step I took. My breasts high and pert, slowly hardening at the sight of him fully aroused like a lounging emperor waiting for life's ultimate pleasures bestowed on him. Blush tinted my cheeks as I felt the moisture creeping down between my thighs when I imagined how he would fit  …  and how he would feel plundering my depths.

The second I reached him, he unhurriedly stood up, and instead of taking his glass from my hand, he audaciously dipped his middle finger in the wine as dark pools steadily eyed me, holding my gaze as he slid his wine-coated finger under the silk and erotically smeared my nipple with the burgundy liquid in a slow, circular motion. He took his time, holding my gaze, as he granted the same respect to my other breast.

Steady, keep steady.

I moaned as I ravenously gazed at him through my lashes. He did the same gesture with his wine-coated finger dipping below my nether region. I whimpered when that notorious digit sought the wet crevice between my thighs.

Although this didn't actually happen in reality, his finger hovered close enough to where it was sensitive for me. A quarter of an inch from where my pussy slit began. I unconsciously clenched my vaginal muscles so I could endure his inquisitive examination of my body.

From there, it was my turn to explore his body, touching, feeling until he couldn't take it anymore and had to take charge. And in no time, he had me on the divan, whispering Spanish words of sweet nothings against my skin.

I writhed and moaned underneath his body. He kissed peaks and curves, torturing me with his mouth, his lips, until it was almost unbearable.