Page 67 of Polo Fever
‘Fuck,’ he grits out, pounding into me harder and harder, and I love that he’s lost control, that he can’t hold back any more. ‘Ash—’
He doesn’t need to tell me, I can feel him pulsing inside of me and knowing he’s close is all it takes to tip me over the edge. The most intense feeling of pleasure I’ve ever experienced ripples through my entire body, leaving me bucking and writhing beneath him as he groans into my neck at his own release. He shudders, collapsing on top of me.
‘You’re incredible,’ he whispers through heavy breaths, kissing my neck lightly.
You’re everything, I want to say, but find myself unable to, fear flickering in my heart. Instead, I cling to him tighter, hoping I never have to let go.
Twenty-Two
Without opening my eyes, I sigh dreamily into my pillow as I feel Mateo’s fingers trail over my shoulder, sweeping my hair over one side, so the bare skin of my back is exposed for him to explore with his lips. Beats an alarm clock.
‘Good morning,’ he murmurs at my neck.
I smile, nestling further into the pillow. When he draws away, my back suddenly feels cold without the trail of kisses he was busy leaving there, and I huff in disappointment as I hear him get out of bed and go to the bathroom. The excitement of last night, of being here with him –I’m in a suite in the Ritz Paris!– has fully woken me up and, thanks to the ponies, I’m used to absurdly early mornings now, anyway.
I kick away the sheets from my legs, sit up and stretch and then jump to my feet. Swiping up his shirt from the floor where it was haphazardly dropped last night, I slip it on, only bothering to do up a couple of buttons, and then stroll across the room to the balcony. I step out ontoit and lean my arms on the rail, looking out at the view in the early-morning light. It’s still and silent, the city barely waking.
I hear his footsteps approach behind me.
‘Nice shirt,’ he says with approval, his hands slipping under it to hold my waist while he rests his chin on my shoulder. I exhale with contentment. ‘Enjoying the view?’
‘It’s not bad.’
He chuckles. ‘You are hard to please.’
One of his hands slides round to my stomach before dropping between my legs. I gasp as his fingers find my clit, caressing it gently.
‘Maybe I can improve things for you,’ he suggests, moving my hair to kiss my neck, my head rolling back as heat pools between my legs.
He grabs my hips and spins me round to face him, his eyes lit with desire as they roam from my lips to my cleavage, landing on the button of his shirt done up there. My chest heaving under his hungry gaze, I acknowledge how hot he looks first thing in the morning, his hair dishevelled still from my fingers working through it last night, his muscled torso on full display in the early-morning sunshine as he stands in front of me in only his boxers.
Is he real?
Is this real?
Fuck, I hope this is real.
As if he can read my mind, as if to dissipate any intruding doubts that he might well be an impossibly beautiful figment of my imagination, he reaches out to undo the buttons on the shirt I’m wearing and push it open so his hands have access to the bare skin beneath, leaving me shivering athis touch. My heart races as I catch the muscle in his jaw twitch, the way his eyes flare with longing as he explores my body. He runs his hands up over my hips and along the curve of my waist, leaving my skin covered in goosebumps. He brings them to my breasts, playing with my hardened nipples before he runs them back down my body.
‘I can’t believe you’re here with me,’ he says so quietly, it’s as if he’s saying it to himself. ‘Standing on my balcony, wearing my shirt…’
He slides his hand between my legs again, watching my lips part with pleasure.
‘So wet,’ he says, his gaze searing into me and making my heart thrum. ‘Say it’s for me, Ash. Say it’s me who does this to you, who makes you this fucking wet.’
‘Only you,’ I say hoarsely.
A low, guttural noise emits from his throat and he sinks to his knees.
‘Mateo. Oh God,’ I whisper, glancing nervously at the rows of windows and empty balconies surrounding his.
But he doesn’t give me much time to think about the consequences of being caught because he’s kissing along my thigh and between my legs and—
My breath hitches as his tongue finds my clit, my hands flying back to the balcony rail I’m pressed up against and gripping onto it, already spiralling as I feel the vibrations of the soft moan of satisfaction he releases before increasing the pressure of his tongue and sinking his fingers into me. My knees almost buckle, his other hand gripping my hip and holding me in place as I begin to succumb to the mounting pressure beneath his tongue.
‘Oh my…fuck… Mateo,’ I breathe. ‘Oh my God!’
Holding onto the rail with one hand, I let the other fall to his head and grip his hair, feeling the cool breeze on my peaked nipples, unable to bite back a moan as I lose myself in this all-consuming pleasure.
