Chapter 15: Morning Hunger
The first thing Pedro registered was warmth. The solid curve of Rina’s back pressed against his chest, smooth skin on skin. The second was the insistent throb of his morning erection, nestled snugly against the soft swell of her ass beneath the silk sheet. Los Angeles morning light, pale gold and already promising heat, filtered through the massive windows, painting stripes across the rumpled duvet and Rina’s bare shoulder.
He nuzzled the nape of her neck, inhaling the lingering scent of her shampoo – expensive, vaguely floral – mixed with the deeper, muskier scent that was uniquely hers. She murmured, a soft, sleepy sound, and shifted infinitesimally closer. He smiled against her skin, then pressed a kiss there. Then another, tracing the elegant line of her spine with his lips, slow and deliberate, down to the delicate dip at the small of her back. He felt the shiver ripple through her, a tiny tremor beneath his mouth.
Another sleepy murmur, this time questioning. "Mmmph?"
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, his hands slid around her waist, large and warm, finding the flat plane of her stomach. With a gentle but firm pressure, he urged her onto her back. She complied, still mostly asleep, her blonde hair fanned out like spilled honey on the pillow, her eyes struggling open, sapphire blue glazed with dreams.
"Pedro?" Her voice was thick, a morning rasp.
"Buenos días, princesa," he rumbled, the deep timbre vibrating against her skin as he dipped his head. He bypassed her lips, trailing stubbled kisses down her throat, across the delicate hollows of her collarbones, lower still. He felt the quickening hitch in her breath beneath his mouth.
He dragged his chin, rough with overnight stubble, down the smooth expanse of her stomach, eliciting a gasp and a reflexive tensing of her abdominal muscles. She squirmed, half-protesting, half-arching into the sensation.
"Ay, your face is like sandpaper," she breathed, but her fingers were already threading into his dark, sleep-tousled hair, not pushing him away, but holding him there.
He chuckled, the sound low and warm against her skin, vibrating through her belly. "Complaining already?" He nuzzled the sensitive skin just below her navel, his breath hot. "Wasn’t Rome sandy enough for you?"
She let out a breathy laugh that dissolved into a moan as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss lower. He hooked his thumbs under the delicate elastic of her lace panties, the only barrier remaining. He looked up, meeting her drowsy, heavy-lidded gaze. A question hung in the air, silent but understood. Her hips lifted slightly off the mattress in answer, a silent, needy invitation. He slid the lace down her legs and tossed them aside.
The scent of her arousal, warm and intimate, hit him as he settled between her thighs. Sleepy, but already gathering heat. He knew this scent, this taste, like the map of her skin. He breathed her in, then lowered his head, pressing a single, lingering kiss to the very heart of her.
Rina gasped, her back arching off the bed, fingers tightening convulsively in his hair. "Fuck, baby" she whispered.
Pedro hummed against her, the vibration deliberate, then got to work. He was thorough. Enthusiastic. His tongue traced slow, deliberate patterns, exploring folds already slick with her response. He licked her with focused intent, broad strokes followed by teasing flicks against her clit, then swirling pressure. He kissed her there, sucked gently, all while his hands held her hips steady, anchoring her to the bed as her legs instinctively tried to clench around his head.
"Pedro... oh god, right there..." Her voice was a ragged thread, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath, low moans catching in her throat. She writhed, not to escape, but to press harder against his mouth. "Don't... don't stop..."
He had no intention of stopping. He knew her rhythms, knew the subtle shift in her breathing, the way her inner muscles clenched before the peak. He felt it building now – the trembling in her thighs, the sharp cries becoming more frequent, less coherent. He focused his attention, tongue relentless on her clit, lips sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves, applying just the right pressure, just the right speed.
Her whole body tightened like a drawn bowstring. A choked sob escaped her, followed by a low, guttural groan that seemed torn from her core. She shuddered violently, her hips lifting off the bed completely as the orgasm crashed through her, wave after relentless wave. She cried out his name, a raw, desperate sound, her fingers pulling almost painfully at his hair as she rode the peak, trembling uncontrollably beneath his mouth. He stayed with her, gentling his touch as the aftershocks subsided, lapping softly, drinking her in until the last flutter faded against his tongue.
He finally lifted his head, resting his cheek against the inside of her trembling thigh. Her skin was flushed, damp. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes closed, lips slightly parted. A sheen of sweat glistened on her brow. He watched her, a profound sense of satisfaction warming him far deeper than the morning sun.
After a long moment, her eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze found his, hazy and sated, filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the orgasm. A slow, utterly contented smile spread across her face. She reached down, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, sticky with her essence. Her thumb brushed his bottom lip.
"Buenos días to you too, Papi," she murmured, her voice still husky, thick with sleep and satisfaction. She pulled gently on his hair. "Come here."
He didn't need asking twice. He crawled up her body, settling his weight beside her but propped on an elbow, looking down at her. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a deep, slow kiss. She tasted herself on his lips, salty and musky, and kissed him back with languid intensity, her hand sliding around the back of his neck.
When they parted, she traced the silver streaks at his temples with a fingertip. "That," she stated, her voice regaining some strength, though still soft, "is absolutely my favorite way to wake up. Bar none." She nudged his still-hard erection with her knee. "Even better than Rome."
He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and kissed her forehead. "High praise, coming from you." He brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek. "Jet lag officially cured?"
She stretched luxuriously, a feline arch of her spine, her breasts pushing against his chest."Mmm. Feeling significantly more...oriented." Her hand drifted lower, fingers curling around his cock, giving him a slow, deliberate stroke. Her smile turned wicked. "Seems like someone else needs orienting too."
He groaned, leaning into her touch, his hips pushing instinctively against her hand. "Patience, princesa," he breathed, though his body begged to differ. "Coffee first? Or..."
Rina laughed, the sound rich and warm. She tightened her grip, her thumb swiping over the slick head. "Or," she countered, her blue eyes gleaming with renewed heat. "Definitely 'or'." She shifted beneath him, her legs opening in clear invitation. "We can have coffee after you're properly inside me. Rome might be behind us, Papi..." She guided him to her entrance, already wet and welcoming from his earlier ministrations. "...but I'm not done feeling you yet."
He needed no further urging. With a low growl that was pure possession and devotion, Pedro sank into her welcoming heat, burying himself to the hilt. Rina gasped, her head falling back, a look of pure bliss transforming her face as he filled her. The city glittered below, indifferent. The sun climbed higher. Inside their glass sanctuary, tangled in silk and sweat and the scent of each other, the only world that mattered was the one they were remaking together, stroke by deliberate stroke. The slow, golden morning dissolved instantly.
Pedro surged forward, shifting his weight, his hips pulling back only to drive into her again, deeper this time, pressing the breath from her lungs. Rina gasped, her sapphire eyes flying open, locking onto his deep brown gaze mere inches away. Her hands flew to his face, fingers tracing the familiar lines beside his eyes, the roughness of his stubble against her palms.
"Look at me," he demanded, his voice a low rasp, thick with need. His thrusts settled into a slow, deep rhythm, each one a deliberate claiming. Her legs tightened instinctively around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him impossibly closer. "Like this. Always like this, mi vida."
"Always," she breathed, her voice catching as he filled her completely.
Her gaze never left his. She could see the flecks of gold in his irises, the faint lines of concentration and desire etching his brow. Her hands slid from his face, one tangling fiercely in the dark hair at his nape, damp with exertion, the other roaming the powerful muscles of his shoulder and back, feeling the corded strength beneath sweat-slicked skin. She loved this map of him, known by heart yet thrillingly immediate.
"Papi... so deep..." A low moan escaped her, vibrating against his chest.
He groaned in response, a guttural sound that echoed her pleasure. His hands slid under her, gripping the backs of her thighs, lifting them, opening her wider. The angle changed, intensifying the friction, sending sparks arcing through her core. He held her there, utterly vulnerable, utterly possessed, his eyes dark pools holding hers captive.
"Mi reina," he whispered against her lips, his breath hot and ragged. He kissed her, deep and consuming, his tongue tangling with hers. "Te amo. Te amo tanto." The words were muffled against her mouth but vibrated through her bones.
She kissed him back with equal fervor, her free hand clutching his shoulder blade. "I love you," she gasped between kisses, each word punctuated by his driving thrust. "Pedro... love you..."
Her body was coiling tighter, the slow, deep rhythm igniting a familiar, urgent heat low in her belly. Every nerve ending felt alive, attuned only to him – the feel of him inside her, the scrape of his chest hair against her nipples, the warm gust of his breath on her cheek, the possessive grip on her thighs. Whimpers began to escape her, soft, involuntary sounds of mounting ecstasy. His grunts grew sharper, more urgent, syncing with the increasing pace of his hips.
The world outside the glass walls ceased to exist. There was only the heat, the slick joining, the unbroken connection of their gaze. His thrusts became shallower, faster, a desperate race towards the edge. She met him thrust for thrust, her core tightening like a vice around him, the pressure building until it was unbearable. Her whimpers turned sharp, pleading.
"Oh god... Pedro... now... please..." Her hand fisted in his hair, her body arching.
"Come with me," he growled, his voice strained, eyes blazing into hers. "Now, Rina. Come for me."
He drove into her one final, perfect time, hitting that exquisite spot deep within. Her climax detonated, a silent scream locked in her throat that burst out as a long, shuddering groan. Her inner muscles clenched him rhythmically, violently, pulling his own release from him instantly. He groaned her name, a raw, guttural sound torn from his chest as he pulsed deep inside her, his body shuddering against hers.
They clung to each other, gasping, trembling, riding the crashing waves together. Their mouths found each other again, not in passion now, but in a deep, slow kiss of shared completion, tasting salt and satisfaction. He kept his arms locked tightly around her, holding her close, his face pressed into the curve of her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her damp skin. She felt the frantic hammering of his heart against her own, gradually slowing. Her fingers, still tangled in his hair, softened, stroking the dark strands soothingly at his nape. Her other hand smoothed over the sweat-slicked expanse of his back, feeling the powerful muscles slowly relax beneath her touch.
They stayed fused like that for long, breathless moments, the air thick with the scent of sex and shared exertion. The silk sheets were cool where they touched her overheated skin. His weight was a familiar comfort, grounding her as the aftershocks subsided. He lifted his head slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, breathing still uneven. A small, utterly contented sigh escaped her. She pressed soft, lingering kisses to his temple, his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth.
"I love you," she whispered again, her voice thick and soft.
"Te amo, mi vida," he murmured back, his voice a husky rasp.
He shifted his head, resting it fully on her chest, his ear pressed over her steadying heartbeat. His softening cock was still nestled deep within her warmth. She continued to stroke his hair, her touch infinitely gentle, tracing the silver strands at his temples. The only sounds were their synchronized breathing gradually returning to normal and the faint hum of the city far below. Peace, profound and complete, settled over them.
After a timeless interval, he stirred slightly. He lifted his head, meeting her sated gaze. A small, tender smile touched his lips. He leaned in, kissing her slowly, deeply, tongues sliding together in a languid dance. As they kissed, he withdrew from her body with a slow, deliberate slide that drew a soft, mutual sigh from them both. He settled back beside her, pulling her into the curve of his body, her back against his chest once more, his arm a secure band across her waist. She nestled back against him, reaching behind to tangle her fingers with his. The morning light, stronger now, streamed across the bed, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air around their entwined forms. The world could wait.