One Predawn
Rosita Velez was slow to open her eyes, to face the reality that she was here…again…with a heavy, muscular, dark-bronzed arm draped over her bare, cinnamon waist. She bit her lip so she wouldn’t moan when the arm tightened around her, bringing her back against a hard body that shouldn’t give as sweetly as she knew it could…as it had last night while she imitated una vaquera .
But he’d been such a willing bronco…
“Rosita, chica …”
Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. She could remember when he’d started calling her that, right before the wedding of their best friends Tim and Bevin Capshaw. Her mother had kept calling her chica , as was her right; but he had to take it a step further, thinking he were so clever because it rhymed. And now it stuck. Even Robbie called her that, but her brother lived to get on her nerves, knowing she loved him too much to kill him.
Soft, moist lips touched her naked shoulder and she shivered. “Rosa.”
She sighed and relaxed into him automatically, cursing herself for the unconscious action. He was the only person with a penis able to get away with calling her that other than her father…and sometimes her brother. But he’d called her Rosa last night as he slid inside her paradise over and over again. She hadn’t smacked him for it, just clutched his shoulders and bit at the crook of his neck and clamped around his cock so he would never, ever leave her.
“Rosa…”
Eyes drifting shut, she became spineless, especially when he pressed her back against the bedding and rose above her, his black eyes boring into her soul so deeply she couldn’t mask it with sass and no-nonsense—even with her eyes closed. He cupped her cheeks and let his broad nose touch hers, her legs opening so she could cradle him close, so he could enter her again, which he did.
She gasped and her eyes flew open, especially when he remained unmoving inside her as his cock throbbed with his heartbeat…that matched hers evenly.
His expression was so serious…so different than it usually was. He had jokes for days, but nothing about this was a laughing matter. Unable to help herself, she touched her palm to his cheek, her heart fluttering as rapidly as his eyes did, her body exhaling just as fully as his did.
“What you do to me,” he whispered, turning his head to kiss her palm. “Rosa.”
She kissed him, letting her tongue dance with his as he began to move inside her. He wasn’t the biggest or the thickest, but he was still the best lover she’d ever had. This man possessed something none of the others had, and she was too chicken to say what it was.
Even though they both knew.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her flush against him, his solid strength turning her softness to fuzzy cotton. She wound her legs around his hips and he ground into her, not leaving her warmth, but savoring it.
He settled his face into her neck and she dug her nails into the back of his head. This embrace was hard, intense. Breath squeezed from her lungs as her skin absorbed his.
“What you do to me,” he whispered again.
It wasn’t a question; it was acceptance of an answer.
Rosita trembled, feeling her heart opening wide even as she tried valiantly to shut it again. Her very own Pandora’s Box, except it was receiving, not releasing.
He paused again, buried to the hilt inside her, his fingers kneading the small of her back. Rosita felt tears sting her eyes and she nestled her face into the crook of his neck. This was different from all the other times, even though it had started the same. She’d come up to Virginia Beach from Charleston to visit Bevin, but had ended up here, at his flat tearing off his clothes so she could get fucked good and proper. And for the first few hours or so, he’d obliged her, talking filthy, being none too gentle—rough and raw. But then he’d started nuzzling her, started calling
Rosita Velez was slow to open her eyes, to face the reality that she was here…again…with a heavy, muscular, dark-bronzed arm draped over her bare, cinnamon waist. She bit her lip so she wouldn’t moan when the arm tightened around her, bringing her back against a hard body that shouldn’t give as sweetly as she knew it could…as it had last night while she imitated una vaquera .
But he’d been such a willing bronco…
“Rosita, chica …”
Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. She could remember when he’d started calling her that, right before the wedding of their best friends Tim and Bevin Capshaw. Her mother had kept calling her chica , as was her right; but he had to take it a step further, thinking he were so clever because it rhymed. And now it stuck. Even Robbie called her that, but her brother lived to get on her nerves, knowing she loved him too much to kill him.
Soft, moist lips touched her naked shoulder and she shivered. “Rosa.”
She sighed and relaxed into him automatically, cursing herself for the unconscious action. He was the only person with a penis able to get away with calling her that other than her father…and sometimes her brother. But he’d called her Rosa last night as he slid inside her paradise over and over again. She hadn’t smacked him for it, just clutched his shoulders and bit at the crook of his neck and clamped around his cock so he would never, ever leave her.
“Rosa…”
Eyes drifting shut, she became spineless, especially when he pressed her back against the bedding and rose above her, his black eyes boring into her soul so deeply she couldn’t mask it with sass and no-nonsense—even with her eyes closed. He cupped her cheeks and let his broad nose touch hers, her legs opening so she could cradle him close, so he could enter her again, which he did.
She gasped and her eyes flew open, especially when he remained unmoving inside her as his cock throbbed with his heartbeat…that matched hers evenly.
His expression was so serious…so different than it usually was. He had jokes for days, but nothing about this was a laughing matter. Unable to help herself, she touched her palm to his cheek, her heart fluttering as rapidly as his eyes did, her body exhaling just as fully as his did.
“What you do to me,” he whispered, turning his head to kiss her palm. “Rosa.”
She kissed him, letting her tongue dance with his as he began to move inside her. He wasn’t the biggest or the thickest, but he was still the best lover she’d ever had. This man possessed something none of the others had, and she was too chicken to say what it was.
Even though they both knew.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her flush against him, his solid strength turning her softness to fuzzy cotton. She wound her legs around his hips and he ground into her, not leaving her warmth, but savoring it.
He settled his face into her neck and she dug her nails into the back of his head. This embrace was hard, intense. Breath squeezed from her lungs as her skin absorbed his.
“What you do to me,” he whispered again.
It wasn’t a question; it was acceptance of an answer.
Rosita trembled, feeling her heart opening wide even as she tried valiantly to shut it again. Her very own Pandora’s Box, except it was receiving, not releasing.
He paused again, buried to the hilt inside her, his fingers kneading the small of her back. Rosita felt tears sting her eyes and she nestled her face into the crook of his neck. This was different from all the other times, even though it had started the same. She’d come up to Virginia Beach from Charleston to visit Bevin, but had ended up here, at his flat tearing off his clothes so she could get fucked good and proper. And for the first few hours or so, he’d obliged her, talking filthy, being none too gentle—rough and raw. But then he’d started nuzzling her, started calling
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