|◁ II ▷|
mahalia — sober.
MAYA BATTLED WITH her own self-will, sinking her bijou hands in places it should have never been; Ebén's trousers. He welcomed her grope with a single grab as she ripped his belt loose, jerking open his fly with her eyes waiting on him with scalding-hot lust. Her velvety drawl was inches from his skin, shutting up his rasping heart that couldn't deal with the tease.
He craved for more of her stroke.
I want you to fuck me.
He remembered the tinge in her voice as she blew out her declaration; finally heeding to her body's own plea that she wanted him in the same ways he did.
Her glazed brown skin had flared underneath the bathroom spotlights, she was no longer posted up with a man who didn't let her out of his sight.
At last.
They were about to.
She could steal whatever she wanted from him... in fact she already had. But Maya had sneakily played her cards so close to her chest, it was too late and Ebén didn't even notice her poker face.
And then she left, leaving him to nurse these blue balls that weren't bound to magically go away.
Fuck sake — Ebén personally lambasted the fully-fledged state of his penis for getting way too excited by the brief action of Maya's soft hands. His own stroke wasn't bound to be soft but he needed to release his pent up arousal... as he was determined not to irritate it further. His fingers began to slide down his veined shaft; his mouth croaking low-pitched laments as he felt his body tick.
"Oh... urgh fuck!" gritted Ebén, continuing to self-soothe himself by thinking of her. As he neared closer to the end, he pushed himself harder and harder until he violently came on his tiled bathroom floor.
He looked down at the white mess of lust that had stained his tip; hardly satisfied.
Whisky bunged his lungs up and had soaked his shirt. The bottle rim was lathered to his lips, making his way out of the bathroom where her carnage had left him... still sexually frustrated.
Even after he attended to the wound.
Her presence had made him evade the feeling of melancholy almost completely. It was something she was often guilty of doing; making him forget.
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Tokes were being smoked in the mouths of Ebén's guests who chased down the smoke billows with flutes of prosecco and bikinis was the attire, replacing it with being fully clothed.
A pre-Maya Ebén would have been enthralled at the catalogue of stupendous women at his disposal — wanting to will their way into his pants but his hunger was for something specific.
And only she would be able to satiate him.
"Happy birthday Ebén!" said one steamy heaux dressed in a black Gaultier monokini; sure to attract the attention of any man wanting to get his end wet.
"Thanks. You look... nice" Ebén said stiffly as her hands clobbered up to his chest. She assumed that because he had appraised her body with a look; he wanted the same things she evidently did.
"I bet that I would look even better with me... completely naked in your bed"
"You're not my type" Ebén slowly swallowed the glass tumbler of brandy that had been handed to him and was slowly trying to find an exit.
YOU ARE READING
I'M NOT YOUR WOMAN. (✓)
Romantizm( BOOK COMPLETED ) A night on the town in West London causes Maya St Thomas to meet the rugged athlete and notorious philanderer, Ebén Jávier Cástro. Ebén isn't the type to commit to things long term, preferring drunk one night stands with women wi...
