Page 70 of Switch Hitter

“Fuck!”

Emiliano’s voice drops, Spanish turning filthy and sweet all at once.

“Así… such a good boy… mírame… take it… qué rico te sientes… tan bonito para mí…”

I’m shaking, right on the edge.

He knows it, so he slows down suddenly, just to be cruel. I whimper and immediately hate myself for it.

Emiliano chuckles. “Aw. You’re close.”

“Don’t,” I gasp, trying to sound angry.

He kisses my shoulder blade softly, then bites lightly. “Tell me what you want.”

I swallow, throat burning. “I want you to—fuck—stop teasing.”

Emiliano laughs. “No.”

He thrusts deep, then pulls back, then deep again, keeping me right there, right at the edge.

“Say my name,” he orders. “Like you mean it.”

“Emiliano,” I choke.

“Más,” he growls.

I’m trembling. “Mili, p-please⁠—”

“Fuck,” he murmurs, satisfied. “I love hearing this sassy fucking mouth beg for me.”

I’m seconds from breaking when I hear him suck in a sharp breath.

He’s close too. I can feel it in the way his hips stutter once.

In the way his hand tightens around me. The way his breath goes ragged and something inside me snaps.

Control.

I shove up on my elbows and twist my head just enough to glare back at him.

“You think you’re finishing like this?” I rasp.

Emiliano’s eyes flash, dark and hungry. “Sí.”

I bare my teeth. “Think again.”

He pauses, breathing hard. “Cobre…”

“Flip. Now,” I pant, voice shaking.

His mouth curls, giving me the sass I give him turned up tenfold. “You’re bossy when you’re fucked open.”

“Shut up,” I snap. “On your back.”

“Make me.”

I twist my body, suddenly feral, and shove him off balance. He stumbles, then I turn fast and crawl over him, pushing him down onto the mattress.