Home > Mr. Garcia(65)

Mr. Garcia(65)
Author: T.L. Swan

“Having a conversation is not bullshit, Sebastian,” I call after him.

“Listen.” He puts his head back around the doorframe. “I like having sex. If I wanted a platonic therapy session, I would go to an exuberantly expensive therapist for useless advice.”

I roll my eyes.

“And don’t roll your eyes at me,” he snaps.

Seriously, this man is an idiot. Can’t he at least understand where I’m coming from?

“Well, I’m doing this for me,” I huff.

“That’s great. You do your little thing for you, and I’ll be jerking off beside you for me.”

I roll my eyes again.

“And don’t be surprised if some of my semen finds its way into your virginal mouth.”

I smirk.

“I’m just saying.” He holds his hands up. “The term choked out may have just found a new meaning.”

“Why are you such a sex maniac? All you think about is coming.”

“Because your insanely hot. Now, hurry the fuck up or I’m leaving without you.” He walks out of the bedroom, and I hear him grab his keys and head for the door.

I smile after him. My deep and meaningful with Mr. Garcia wasn’t exactly sweet and understanding but it’s a start.

And that’s all I'm asking for.

“April!” He groans.

I pick up my bag and head for the door. “Coming, dear.”

 

I hear the shower turn off as I lie in bed, and my stomach flutters. Sebastian and I have made out in the garage before we even got inside, in the kitchen, made out in the hallway, halfway up the stairs, and it is crystal clear that I didn’t think this plan through at all.

We are hot together and maybe he’s right.

I just want to fuck him already.

No.

He walks out of the en-suite bathroom with a white towel around his waist. My eyes drop down his thick, rippled torso, and my breath catches.

Sebastian Garcia is one hell of a beautiful man.

His eyes find mine, and he unwraps his towel and lets it fall to the floor.

Fucking hell……perfection.

He’s tall, dark, rippled with muscles, and has the biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. This man is the epitome of sexuality.

His thick, hard cock hangs heavily between his legs, and he climbs into bed beside me. He lies on his back and puts his hands behind his head.

Arousal begins to flood through my body.

“Anything you want to do?” he asks casually.

I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes linger over his engorged cock. Thick veins are coursing up the length of it. “Nope.”

“Okay.” He sits up and takes a bottle of lube from his bedside. He clicks it open and holds it up. “Last chance.”

I begin to throb.

“Knock yourself out,” I whisper as I turn on my side toward him. I rest my hand on my elbow to get in position to watch the show.

He lies back against his headboard and spreads his legs wide. I watch on as he squirts lube onto his hard cock and gives himself a long, strong stroke.

Fuck.

He runs his hand up over his end and then back hard to the base. His hooded eyes find mine. “You going to kiss me while I do this, baby?” he whispers.

I shake my head. I know if I touch him anywhere, it’s all over.

The sound of his voice all husky and hushed… it’s the sound of the devil.

His strokes get harder, and the muscles in his arm and chest flex as he works himself.

Oh hell…..this is the dumbest plan in all of history.

What was I thinking?

He widens his legs as his breathing picks up. I sit up, unable to act uninterested.

Fuck me.

He tips his head back and moans, and I swear, I feel it between my legs. I’ve never met a man so sexual. Harder and harder, the bed begins to move beneath me to the sound of his moans. I sit still, transfixed to the best porn I’ve ever watched.

The lube is loud, slurping and cracking.

Driving me wild.

“April, fuck, baby, get on me,” he whispers.

Oh God, I want to.

“Keep going,” I pant.

With his eyes locked on mine, he clenches his teeth and really lets himself have it. I can tell by his breathing that he’s close.

I hold my breath, and he moans, deep and guttural, as white, hot semen spurts across his stomach.

I stare at him in awe, and then without thinking, I drop my head and drag my tongue through his arousal.

Our eyes are locked.

I lick again and again, until his hand goes to the back of my head as he watches on.

I want him so bad.

His grip on my hair tightens, and he clenches his fist, dragging my face to his. “Kiss me.” His lips take mine, and he moans when he tastes himself.

We kiss as if we have all the time in the world.

Oh, I’m lost.

This beautiful man does things to me.

“You taste good,” I murmur against his lips. He pulls me over to lie on top of him, his arousal wet beneath me. I’m throbbing with want, wet and swollen.

Our heartbeats soar together as one.

“I need to sort you out,” he breathes as he holds me close.

“No, baby.” I kiss him again. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For more.”

His eyes search mine. An undercurrent of emotion runs between us.

I don’t know how I made it through that without touching him.

I know what I want.

I’ll try anything to get it.

 

“April.” I feel a soft kiss on my lips. “I’m going, sweetheart. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

My eyes flutter open. “Okay.” I wrap my arms around his neck. Sebastian is freshly showered and decked out in golf clothes. He smells delicious.

“What time is it?” I frown.

“Early. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay.” I smile, and with another soft kiss, he leaves me.

I hear the garage opening and closing before he drives away.

I’m not sure how long I doze for after he leaves, but I don’t fall back into a deep sleep. Once awake, I pick up my phone and scroll through aimlessly. I hear a click in the distance.

Bentley sits up as if hearing something, too. He walks to the door, his ears pricked.

I hear something downstairs.

Is somebody in the house?

I’m heading toward the door when I hear another sound. Fuck… what is that?

I see a small security screen iPad attached to the wall near the door of Sebastian’s bedroom. I’ve never noticed it before. There are little pictures of each room in the house and right on the bottom left screen I see movement.

What?

I lean into get a better look. I watch the figure—they’re dressed in full black with a balaclava on—walking down the hall before they go into the office.

I hold my breath as the person pulls off the balaclava, and my eyes widen in horror.

Helena, Sebastian’s ex-wife is in the house.

What the fuck is she doing here?

My heart races as I watch the screen. What the hell is she doing here?

She opens the top drawer of his desk and rattles around it, obviously looking for something.

Fuck.

I grab my phone and dial Sebastian’s number, but it just rings and rings.

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