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I tightened my fingers round him and said it straight. “Tonight. All of it. Tomorrow I’m a tourist again.”
“Understood,” Mateo said, and kissed me like a man who’d been given a deadline and a gift.
He rolled on a condom from his pocket, and I pushed him onto his back and straddled him. I held his cock upright and sank down onto it an inch at a time, slow, feeling every thick, hot inch stretch me open. We both groaned. His hands gripped my hips. I started to ride him, rolling my hips, my breasts bouncing in the moonlight, and he watched with his lips parted like he couldn’t believe his luck.
“Mierda, Sophie. Look at you.”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
He did. He flipped me over and drove into me from behind, one hand fisted in my hair, the other under me rubbing my clit in tight little circles. The bed slammed against the cabana post. I bit the pillow and came, clenching round him, and he followed with a shout and a long shuddering thrust that went on and on.
We did it twice more. Once against the wall, once in the outdoor shower with the water running cold and my leg hooked round his waist.
At five-thirty he kissed my shoulder and dressed in the dark. “Best night shift of my life,” he whispered.
At the bar at noon he made me a margarita, no salt, extra lime, and winked. I tipped him a hundred pesos and an excellent view of my cleavage. We never spoke of it again. We never had to.
Ending 1 of 16: One Night Only. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.