Say Forever (2 page)

He groans and grabs my shoulders, pressing my face against his groin.

I shake him off and point an accusing finger in his abdomen. "I'm setting the pace."

He responds with the cutest pouty face ever, but he drops his clenched hands to his sides.

But honestly, who am I kidding? I love foreplay, but like I said, I came home hungry, so I wrap my lips around his head and slide his shaft deep into my mouth. Andrés's groans gutturally as he flexes his hips, pushing the tip of his erection against the back of my throat. We set a steady pace, me slurping and suckling up and down his electrified flesh while he thrusts into my mouth. Andrés's groaning is intensifying, and I know if I continue to blow him, I'll be devouring more than just his cock.

My insides are quivering by this point, and my panties are soaked through. My tender flesh is thrumming in anticipation, because as soon as I'm done sucking Andrés, I'm going to mount him right here on this chair.

Andrés grabs my shoulders and pulls me off of him. "Stop," he pants, "Or I'll come in your mouth."

I look up and flash my best wicked smile. The poor guy has been having latex orgasms for the past three weeks. I know he'd enjoy coming in my mouth while my tongue swirls against his sensitive flesh.

"That's okay," I say, as I lean over and lick him from base to head in one fluid stroke. I spit into my hand and massage moisture into his balls, and then I slowly slide him back into my mouth. His balls tense beneath my hand as the head of his cock jars the back of my throat. He cries out, and his hips jerk erratically before his warm juices explode against my tonsils. I swallow while continuing to suckle and stroke him.

He's still moaning and groaning as I slide up and release his shaft. I wipe a hand across my wet, swollen lips and smile.

He cups my cheek, tracing his thumb across my bottom lip. "Thank you, mija," he says through a sigh as he sinks low in the chair.

"No, thank you," I say to him, as I slide off my jeans and underwear. I swish some soda water around in my mouth and then grab the new box of condoms out of the grocery bag on the table. I rip open that box and wrapper with amazing speed and slide the condom on top of his still engorged penis. Andrés sits up and gives me a knowing grin before grabbing my hips and helping me ease onto him. As I straddle his waist, he thrusts into me. I'm so wet and horny by this point, I know it won't take much to make me come. Feet planted firmly on the floor, I proceed to ride my cowboy, but we've never done it in a chair before, and I forgot I'm not very tall. Bouncing up and down is kind of tricky, and I'm grinding against him instead, but then omigod!

The way his large head rubs against the back of my swollen center feels so freaking good. Andrés slides his hands up my shirt, pulls up my bra and cups my breasts, the pads of his thumbs tracing circles around my nipples. That is enough to send me over the edge, and I lose all sense of rhythm as I surrender to the orgasm. But Andrés is still bucking against me, pressing deep inside my channel, coaxing more tremors of pleasure pulsating through me.

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!"

I scowl as I look down at this meth-head who used to be my girlfriend's best friend. Karri's wearing an oversized blue and gold shirt with what appears to be fraternity lettering on the front. Her hair's a mess, her makeup is smeared, her jeans have more rips than should be legal, and it looks like her scuffed shoes are on the wrong feet.

What the fuck is wrong with this girl?

I look over at Christina as she tries to console the crying baby. The kid is shivering in Christina's arms. He's not wearing a jacket, and it's freaking forty degrees outside.

Karri seems oblivious to her kid's suffering as she walks over to our kitchen table and helps herself to a breadstick. "Mmmmm, this is good. You make this, Christina?" She waves the breadstick at her.

Christina rolls her eyes and turns her back on Karri, pressing the baby against her chest and whispering soothing words into his ear.

Karri shrugs a shoulder, dips the breadstick into my plate, swirls it in the sauce, and takes another bite.

Karri is the same girl who had an affair with that
pendejo
Jackson James while he was engaged to Christina. After Karri had Jackson's baby, she said another guy was the father, and then she named Christina as the godparent. It wasn't until Ty was almost a year old that Christina learned the truth. Last we'd heard from Karri, she'd left her baby with Jackson's parents and run off with her drug dealer boyfriend.

Yeah, Karri's a selfish, using bitch, and if it wasn't for the baby, I wouldn't have let that girl through the door.

I'm so fucking pissed, I'm about ready to punch a hole through the wall. I walk up to her, snatch the bread from her hand, and throw it on the table.

"Get out," I growl.

Her eyes widen, and she shrieks as if I'm about to hit her. No doubt, she's used to that kind of treatment from her druggie boyfriend, but I was raised differently. I'm not about to hit a girl, no matter how much she annoys me.

"I knew you would come here!" A nasal voice echoes behind me. "You've got nowhere else to go."

I turn around and glare at the man my girlfriend almost married. He's wearing unbuttoned pants and no shirt beneath his half-zipped leather jacket. Karri's oversized fraternity sweat shirt is starting to make more sense. They probably met at a motel somewhere, and Karri stole the baby when Jackson's pants were down. Jackson is about an inch or two taller than me, with wide shoulders, but he's got no muscle mass at all. None. It's like the guy spends his days playing video games, or else he's just lazy. The stupid pendejo has got a lot of nerve storming into my home uninvited.

"What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?" I bellow.

Jackson's got this wild look in his eyes as he turns to me. That's when I see the faint trace of white powder stuck to his upper lip.

Fucking great.

Tyler whimpers against Christina, and Jackson spins around, glaring at my girlfriend. "Give me the fucking baby, or I swear to God, Christina, I'll... "

Christina's eyes widen as she backs up a step. Tyler whimpers louder.

I'm barely aware of my feet propelling me forward, of me grabbing Jackson's collar and pushing him up against the wall. "Or you'll what?" I snarl. Then I say to Christina over my shoulder, "Take the baby into the bedroom."

I tighten my grip on Jackson's collar and glare at him until I hear our bedroom door shut.

Jackson is cringing and averting his gaze. He's too stupid to even know how to defend himself."That's my kid," he says through wheezy breath as some of that white powder beneath his nose falls into his mouth.

I angle my head back, not just because I don't want to inhale any of Jackson's cocaine residue, but because my girlfriend's stories are true. The guy's breath smells like a fucking dog took a shit in his mouth.

"And you're in my house uninvited," I say through clenched teeth. I still can't believe the dick has the nerve to barge into my apartment. His cocaine high must be clouding his judgment.

I hear the clank of silverware scraping a dish, and realize Karri is eating my food. I'm so fucking pissed right now, my head's about to explode.

Jackson raises both hands in a gesture of surrender, as he cowers against the wall. "Let me have my kid and I'll go."

I center my gaze on the prick with the bad breath and think I've got the perfect way to release my frustration. "I've got to take care of something first." I let go of Jackson's collar.

I hear his sigh of relief as I pull back. In the blink of an eye, I channel all my pent-up anger into the force of my fist, as I plant it square in Jackson's face.

Pain lances through my knuckles as they crash against his mouth. Damn, he's hard-headed! The release of my frustration is worth it. I don't feel bad for sucker punching the guy. He should've been prepared for it, which goes to show what an idiot he is. What the fuck had Christina ever seen in him?

Jackson covers his mouth as he slides down the wall and lands on his ass.

I lean down and speak in a low rumble. "You don't swear at my girlfriend, ever again. Got me,
hombre
?"

"That's assault," Jackson cries through his blood soaked fingers. "I'm calling the cops."

"And telling them what?" I laugh. "That you snorted coke, broke into my house, and threatened my girlfriend? Go ahead. Call the cops. Who do you think they'll arrest?"

Jackson's eyes widen and he crouches even lower, curling up in to a fetal ball on my entryway floor. Can the guy get any more pathetic?

Despite the pain searing my knuckles, I haul him up by the collar. Jackson starts to cry, and he nearly falls to the floor as his feet slide all over the tile. I swear to God, it's like I'm dealing with a fucking kid.

"Now here's what you're going to do." I growl into his ear as he flinches and flattens one side of his face against the wall. "You're going to get the fuck out of my apartment, sober up, and then you can come back tomorrow for your kid."

"I need Tyler tonight," he whimpers. "My dad will freak."

"Then call your dad and tell him to come get him."

Jackson raises a shaky, bloodied hand and points over my shoulder. "He can't know I was with her."