Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
He emphasises his words with a strong thrust of his hips, his grip tightening on the flesh of my ass. I feel utterly delirious as Santi fucks me against the wall of his locker room, here in the middle of this open space that anyone could walk into at any given moment.
It feels so, so wrong, but Santi’s right - the knowledge that we could be caught makes it all the more exciting.
I know I’m unlikely to find my release given the rushed pace of our movements - urgency, want and sheer need blatantly present in every snap of his hips against mine - but just having this is more than pleasurable enough for me.
He uses his hold on me to practically bounces my body up and down on his cock, moving me with an ease that makes me question just how strong this man is.
My hands cling desperately to his shoulders as he increases the pace of his thrusts, and I circle my hips a little, trying my best to participate where I can and not just hang here against the wall.
His thick, muscular thighs seem to give a little at that - as if he wasn’t expecting the movement, nor his body’s reaction to it - so I repeat it again, circling my hips on his cock as he pounds into me.
He’s close. I can tell by the way his jaw clenches and his blunt fingernails dig tightly into my ass cheeks.
I hiss loudly as he tilts his hips upwards, altering the angle of his thrusts and causing me to fist my hands into the collar of his shirt as I seek something to ground me in this moment.
I close the distance between us with a desperate kiss, and Santi licks into my mouth with equal enthusiasm. His breath hitches one final time before he empties himself deep inside me with a long, low grunt that comes from the back of his throat, his face falling into the crook of my neck as his breath comes out in ragged pants.
I raise one of my hands to the back of his head so that I can gently drag my fingernails over his scalp, smiling softly despite myself as I move to rest my cheek against the side of his head.
All is quiet and peaceful around us, only the faint hum of the lights and the soft sounds of our breaths mingling filling the air of the locker room.
But then, faintly, I hear the distant sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor.
I stiffen, my head snapping toward the door, the sound sending a jolt of panic through me.
“Santi, someone’s coming,” I whisper urgently, my voice barely audible.
He doesn’t move right away, his forehead still resting on my shoulder, his lips brushing lightly against the curve of my neck. His hands are firm beneath me, holding me up effortlessly. It’s almost as if the sound of approaching footsteps doesn’t faze him in the slightest despite my own panic.
“Santi,” I hiss, my voice sharper now, but before I can say another word, one of his hands leaves my ass and gently covers my mouth.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
The sound is so soft, so intimate, and it sends a shiver down my spine despite the growing tension in the air.
His green eyes lock onto mine, and even in the dim light, I can see the glint of amusement mixed with something darker.
“Stay still,” he whispers, his voice low and steady. “And don’t make a sound.”
My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure whoever is in the corridor must hear it, but I nod slowly, my pulse racing as I do what he says.
We stay frozen like that: him holding me against the wall, one hand now splayed across my lower back to keep me steady, the other covering my mouth. His body remains pressed close to mine, all warm and strong and solid as he continues to pin me against the wall.
The footsteps grow louder, each one echoing in the quiet, and I hold my breath as the sound moves closer.
My eyes dart toward the door, but Santi doesn’t so much as glance away from me for even a moment. His gaze stays fixed on mine, and I cringe as the footsteps pause just outside the locker room door.
My entire body goes rigid. My fingers clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging through the material of his shirt as my mind races with every worst-case scenario.
The thought of someone coming in here and finding us in such a compromising position is embarrassing, of course, but it’s also damning for Santi.
This is highly unprofessional, and I worry about how much his career would be damaged if he were to be found with his jeans halfway down his thighs, his cock out for all to see - oh, and just to top it off, a woman pinned to the wall whilst straddling his hips.