The air whooshes from my lungs as he hauls me up and lays me on the table. I think I hear a bag of groceries fall to the floor, but I don't care. He cups my face in his hands, leans down and nibbles on my lip, and then trails kisses down my jaw and neck while pumping into me. It doesn't take long for another orgasm to build, and just as I'm about to crest again, Andrés is kissing me, driving his tongue against mine while moaning into my mouth. His head is pulsing inside me, just as that point of pleasure deep inside me shatters into a million pieces. My cry is captured by his kiss as his shallow, deep thrusts, torment my swollen sex. After several tender kisses, the rhythm of our hearts slow down to near normal, and we untangle from each other.
Andrés lifts me from the table and helps me dress before he scoops his jeans off the floor. I fall into the chair, exhausted and sore from his weight pressing me into the hard planes of the table, but damn, it was worth it.
***
Andrés
I take a long drink from my beer bottle and then absently stroke that little pouch in my pocket. Now doesn't seem like a good time to propose. Christina's refused even the smallest glass of wine. We've already had sex, which means any sexual tension I hoped to build tonight has been drained. Maybe after I clear the dishes, I can give her a back rub or draw her bubble bath. Heck. Maybe I'll combine the two, get her really loosened up, and then propose.
At the moment, she doesn't look like she's in the mood for anything other than food.
"Don't blink. I might inhale the whole plate." Christina twirls a giant forkful of spaghetti, and amazingly, manages to fit the entire bite into her mouth.
I wait, watching as she chews feverishly before swallowing.
"Didn't you eat today?" I ask.
She shakes her head and stabs a meatball. "I didn't have time. I've got too many jobs to work on and only two weeks left to do them."
I sigh as I dip a breadstick into the marinara. I still can't believe my girlfriend is leaving my company, although it's my own fault. Last month, after I stupidly walked out on her, she found another job working for her mom as a formal party designer. She'll be decorating weddings and quinceañeras for well-to-do clients in San Antonio and Austin. They're planning to launch Domingo Designs in January. I suppose it's for the best. I can't expect an artist with Christina's talents to airbrush cars forever.
"You don't have to finish them all," I say to her, though secretly I want her to. The new artist I hired doesn't have half Christina's talent, or her work ethic. I'll be sad to see her go.
"Yes, I do," she says after swallowing a mouthful of meatball. "I'm not leaving you guys stranded."
"How's the newbie?" I ask her, and brace myself for the answer. He's got more body piercings than should be humanly possible, and an attitude to boot, but he was the only artist with a clean record who applied. Three times this week, Christina reported he's taken extended bathroom breaks. I wonder if he's got a clean record because he's actually on the straight and narrow, or if he's smart enough not to get caught at whatever he's doing wrong.
"Talented, but a little out of touch." She wags her fork at me. "I hope you didn't hire another meth-head."
I take another swig of beer and lean back in my chair. Running five automotive businesses is much harder than I thought. I have no idea how Tio has managed twenty. But this spring my uncle plans to retire for good, leaving my cousins and me to run his empire. I still don't know if I'm the right man for the job. I hate to admit it, but leading a troop through the mountains of Afghanistan was much easier than this. Those guys, they were my brothers. I trusted them with my life. These guys here, we've got to keep the cash registers behind cages, not just because of theft from outside, but from within. It's hard when I can't trust the people working for me.
"Yeah, me, too." I groan before taking another swig of beer. "I'm fucking sick of dealing with users."
Christina yelps and practically flies out of her seat at the sound of loud banging on our front door. I jump up and reach the door in a few long strides. I groan when I see spiked pink hair on the other side of the peephole.
"Who is it?" she asks me. I look at her and laugh when I see she's armed herself with a large wooden spoon.
"It's Karri," I growl as a knot of tension coils around my shoulders.
Christina's eyes bulge, and she waves the spoon at me. "Don't let her in!"
I take a step back as Karri pounds on the door again, this time louder than the first. Then I swear when I hear the faint sound of a baby crying.
"She's got Ty!" Christina drops the spoon, pushes past me, and throws open the door.
Karri storms into our apartment like a cyclone of angst as she thrusts the baby into Christina's arms. "I think Jackson followed me. Hurry, you've got to hide us!"