Spanish Pirate: A BWWM International Legacies Romance

by Stevens, Camilla

  Enrique rounds the table and takes my hand to lead us out of the dining room.

  “Good night,” Sebastián says as we go.

  We echo our parting goodnights and find the stairs.

  “This place is amazing,” I say in awe, switching back to English as I stare at the large, heavy iron chandelier in the center of the double stairs running up the center of the house.

  “It is,” Enrique says with just as much wonder, which makes me think he’s never been inside before.

  At the top landing, I stop, forcing his attention on me.

  “So why don’t you tell him who you are?”

  I see the quick flash of surprise, then denial touch his eyes.

  “Oh stop, Enrique. It’ so obvious. Us just happening to end up at this winery? The way you two are with each other,” I come in closer with a smile and tap his nose. “And you both have the same nose. The nose knows, my dear.”

  He smirks and looks away.

  “The question remains, why don’t you tell him?”

  Instead of answering, he takes my hand and leads us in the direction Sebastián said the bedroom was. Once inside, I take a moment to explore it with my eyes.

  I’d be surprised if this wasn’t the master bedroom, it’s so grand and magnificent. There’s a large poster bed to one side and two comfortable armchairs in front of a stone fireplace. I pull away from Enrique to head through the door that leads to the bathroom. After turning on the lights, I gasp at the huge tub set against a large round window that faces the vineyards that we trespassed through.

  When I come back into the bedroom, Enrique is leaning against a wall staring at me with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “You want to know why I don’t say anything? Because my father is still out there. I have no idea how long his reach is, what steps he’s still going through to find me and do the same to me that he did my mother. All it would take is the wrong person noticing something between us. Then my grandfather would be in danger as well. Perhaps even Sister Clara. This ends with me.”

  I walk over and lean against him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He unfolds his and brings them around my shoulders to draw me in closer.

  “And after tonight?”

  He brings one hand up to push back a mass of hair from the side of my face. “I suppose a lot has changed after tonight.”

  I feel a cool shudder roll through me, which is quickly evaporated by a ball of fire low in my abdomen.

  “You don’t think I’ve been drinking too much?” I ask, coyly tilting my head.

  A slow, easy smile curls his lips. “I think you’re perfectly aware of what you’re doing and what you want tonight.”

  I bite my bottom lip, capturing the smile that wants to come.

  “Now it’s my turn to ask a question,” he says.

  “Yes, I want this,” I say, answering it before he can pose it.

  His hand comes out, stroking my cheek and ending at my chin. He tilts it so I’m facing him. His thumb makes a slow trek across my bottom lip, and it trembles under his touch. When he replaces it with his lips, it’s the spark that causes the rest of me to nearly melt in his arms.

  I taste the wine and flavors of the night on his breath and tongue. Some silent, but lyrical tune guides our movement. No wonder the Spanish are so well known for dance and music. The way Enrique leads me with just his mouth makes me feel like I’m floating on my feet.

  He pulls away and stares down at me, keeping my chin in place with his hand. I feel it slide lower, tracing a path down my throat, his fingertips tickling my skin.

  I know where he’s headed and as his fingertips get closer, the pulse in my throat quickens. Just as his tongue did a few days ago, his touch leaves a path of fire in its wake as it circles the tiny gold cross below the hollow in my throat.

  “Estás segura?”

  A smile forces its way through any hesitation on my part.

  “Sí.”

  A sin that can’t be rectified, this one worse than all the others combined. I’d be surprised if the confessional didn’t spontaneously combust during my next visit.

  My faith has been tested and found wanting.

  Almost as much as I want this man in front of me to be my first.

  I pull back and hold Enrique’s gaze as I reach behind me to unzip the sundress I have on. I push the straps from my shoulders and allow it to fall in a puddle at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my bra, underwear, and sandals.

  I move to the bra next, unhooking it and slipping each strap down my arms. My underwear follow, my thumbs hooking into the sides. I slip the past the curve of my hips and down the slope of my thighs and calves.

  When I’m in nothing but my sandals, I place one hand on my hip, giving Enrique a full view of all of me that I’m giving to him.

  Just in case he had any doubts.

  He drinks me up with his eyes. Something about the desire reflected there is strangely empowering. I don’t feel shameful or shy or embarrassed.

  If he’s going to have me, he deserves to savor every bit.

  His hand comes out and strokes my arm all the way down to my hand. His fingers twist into mine, creating a perfect tangle as he takes hold of me.

  Enrique pushes away from the wall and leads me toward the bed by the hand. I sit on the edge as he continues to stand above me.

  When he takes off his shirt, that’s when it begins to hit me. Each rippled ab that’s exposed is just one step closer. He pulls it over his head and from his arms then flings it aside.

  Oh shit, this is really happening.

  I remember being in awe of his body when I first saw him standing naked on his boat back at the lagoon. My eyes fall to the bulge in the crotch of his jeans, and I remember what else I thought.

  It’s going to hurt.

  My breathing accelerates. It isn’t that I’m changing my mind, it’s that this is so much more…tangible than all my wicked fantasies ever were. My body is suddenly hypersensitive to everything around me, from the look of textured walls to the feel of the soft bedding beneath my palms. My nipples harden to a painful degree.

  “Breathe,” Enrique says, drawing my attention back to his smile.

  Even though there’s that same hint of a devilish smirk on his face, it somehow calms me. That’s the kind of retreat back to normalcy I need.

  After all, I’m hardly the first woman to have her virginity taken. Even right now in the world there are probably at least…fifty other women or girls doing this for the first time. I bite back a smile at the thought. They probably didn’t come into it quite the way I have.

  I pull up one leg to start undoing the straps of my sandals.

  “No,” Enrique says, stopping me.

  He places one hand to rest on my knee, then he slides it down around to the back of my calf. As he sinks to the floor before me, he brings my foot back down with him.

  I realize he’s perfectly at eye-level with that part of me he explored back in the hotel in Ibiza. I feel a surge of wild heat invade that area, thinking maybe I’d like him to do that to me again.

  A grin spreads his face, no doubt reading my mind as he works to undo one sandal, removing it from my foot. It only grows as he does the same with the other.

  “The key to doing this,” he begins, his fingertips once again torturing my skin as they trace a path up my leg toward my knee, “is to make sure you’re…wet.”

  How can such a simple, innocent word sound so deliciously filthy?

  “Wet,” I repeat, my voice barely a whisper.

  “Are you wet, Leira?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  But if I had to take an educated guess…

  When his fingers tickle the skin of my inner thighs, I inhale sharply at the feel of it. It causes a vacuum in the pit of my stomach that has the rest of my body feeling the impact of it. If I’m not wet, then the Pacific Ocean is a desert.

  “Well,” Enrique says, his lips coming in to kiss the inside of my kne
e, all while his dark eyes are trained on mine. “I’d better make sure.”

  As his kisses continue up my thigh, I can’t tell if it’s him or me that has both of them spreading wider to accommodate him. I lean back on the bed, supporting myself on my palms. It’s his lips that strike first, sending a perfect bolt of lightning through me as they circle the tiny nub hidden in between.

  “Enrique,” I hiss.

  He answers with his tongue, using it to spell out some coded language that knows exactly how to unlock my body. I stare down at him over the rapid quiver of my stomach as his head bobs to continue his rhythm.

  The first spasm of my orgasm comes quickly. I hear a slight chuckle escape his occupied mouth and I can’t decide if I want to smack him or push him harder into me to make the next one even more violently all-consuming.

  I’m detoured by the feel of one finger coming up to join the party. I go stiff as he penetrates me, but relax when the pain I expected doesn’t materialize. Even when a second finger enters, my body’s only reaction is to lean further back, allowing him access.

  I close my eyes to embrace the feel of it, if only to prepare me for what’s coming. I feel the absence of Enrique’s head as he pulls away, and I open them again.

  His gaze holds mine captive as he continues to work his fingers, widening them ever so slightly as he does. Although my breathing is heavy and stilted with anticipation, my body relaxes underneath his expert touch. It actually feels…good.

  Really good.

  “Fuck!” I exclaim, my eyes going wide when he does something amazing with his fingers. “What was that?”

  “Just the appetizer,” he says with a grin.

  He adds a third finger and that’s when I feel the first pang of pain.

  “No…” I whisper urgently.

  “Yes,” he says, gently working it in and out until I’m used to it.

  He pulls out and the slick pop that hits my ears is just one more indication that yes, I am very wet. I snap my thighs together as he pulls back up, once again standing over me. He works his legs, stepping out of his shoes and socks. Then, he goes to work on his fly.

  “What about a condom?” I suddenly ask.

  Yet another sin to add to the list.

  Still…

  “I may have made a detour while you were busy trying on clothes this morning,” Enrique says with a smirk as he pulls a single condom out from a back pocket. “I snagged this one from the box still in our bags in the car.”

  “So you expected this to go down tonight?” I ask, feeling a wee bit indignant, despite all the evidence pointing to this exact thing happening.

  “At some point during this week,” he confesses.

  “And if I changed my mind?”

  His smirk only broadens as he lowers both his jeans and underwear. His dick is fully hard, springing up like a damn log as it almost slaps against his tight abdomen.

  “I’d ask if you’re certain about that.” Enrique takes his time opening the wrapper, pulling out the condom. I feel like I’m getting my very own private erotic show, giving me point-by-point detail of the most impressive part of him. The large head, the thick shaft with pronounced veins running along it, ending at the patch of hair at the bottom.

  He leans forward, placing his hands on either side of me. I subconsciously scoot back but he continues to come closer until I’m lying on the bed.

  “You have no idea the effect you have on a man, do you, Diabla?”

  “Stop calling me that,” I say softly, even though a part of me secretly adores it.

  “Okay then,” Enrique responds, lowering himself even more. “Tesoro mío.”

  As though my blood wasn’t rushing hard enough already. That one has my heart beating much faster. When Enrique lowers his head, taking one nipple in his mouth, I’m surprised the sound of it isn’t deafening to his ears. Mine are definitely filled with the rush it sends coursing through my arteries.

  “Every part of you should be treasured,” he says, momentarily pulling his lips away. “And tonight that’s what I’m going to do.”

  His lips and tongue, taking turns on each of my breasts, have a conflicting effect on me. They thaw away my hesitation and fear with a thrilling heat, but each is a tiny little warning signal that I’m drawing closer and closer to sin.

  Enrique’s mouth suddenly slips away from my breast, traveling right over my heart and right up to my jaw, thankfully not taking a detour to the symbol that still lies flat against my throat.

  “Beg me,” he growls into the spot just beside my ear.

  “What?” My eyes blink rapidly.

  He pulls up and stares down at me with a teasing look in his eyes. I feel his hand slide across my stomach and reach down for his cock.

  “Tell me you want this.” I feel the fat head of his cock press against my opening. “Tell me your pussy craves this dick.”

  “That’s…” So, so wrong. My mouth can’t even express it. But my body sure as hell does.

  “Do you like it when I talk dirty?”

  “I…um…” I’m still just breathing out the words.

  “It’s okay to admit it, Leira. I’m the only one listening,” he says, now sliding the tip up and down my slit. I bite back the moan that threatens to come. I’m not sure if it’s the sensation of what he’s doing down there or the thought of more filth spilling from his lips.

  “Yes,” I finally confess. Even the shame that overcomes me has an erotic effect.

  “That’s what I thought,” he says with a grin, punishing me by testing the threshold even more.

  “Unh…” I moan as the hint of pain mixed with pleasure radiates from that spot.

  “Say you want me to fuck you. Because I can’t wait to feel your tight, hot, virginal pussy squeezing my dick as I make you come for the first time that way.”

  He lowers himself again so that his chest grazes against my nipples. His eyes are dark, but still ablaze with intensity. “Because I will make you come, Leira. First time or not. Now tell me you want it.”

  “I want it.”

  Enrique breaks past the threshold and enters me.

  I expected an explosion of pain, something to remind me of the fiery pits of hell I’ve taken the final step into. But, much like my overly dramatic religious hangups, it’s not nearly as terrible as I assumed it would be.

  There is pain, definite pain. He’s too big for me not to moan in protest as he stretches me beyond what that part of me has ever experienced before. It’s such an unfamiliar invasion, like he’s claiming it. Maybe that’s why it’s called “taking” one’s virginity. He marks every part of me as he slowly sinks as far as possible, leaving me helplessly impaled on him.

  And I love it.

  “Leira, Leira, Leira,” Enrique mutters, closing his eyes.

  I smile up at his handsome face. I’m not the only one left helpless. I love the fact that I can do this to him, that my body can do this to him.

  “I want more,” I whisper.

  His eyes flash open and stare down at me with hard concentration.

  “Give it to me,” I beg.

  He starts off slowly, working his hips. The pain intensifies, causing me to gasp in shock. But so does the pleasure. Whatever he did with his fingers earlier, it’s happening again.

  I bite my lip, forcing my body to relax and accept it so I can come for him. It’s there somewhere, lingering beneath the tender ache as he continues to gently thrust into me.

  “That’s right, Leira.” Enrique leans down to speak in my ear with a fierce whisper. “You’ve already fallen. So much for the good little nun, the good little Catholic. You’re mine now. The next sin belongs only to me. Dámelo. Give it to me.”

  His words cause whatever it was that couldn’t reach the surface to not only break past it, but fly straight into the air like a damn firecracker. It pushes past the pain and erupts into my body, hitting almost every nerve ending.

  A silent cry escapes my lips and I arch my back, pressing cl
oser into Enrique above me. My hands grip his shoulders; a small part of my subconscious is still functional enough to appreciate how firm they feel in my grasp. Those muscles go just as taut under my palms as I come crashing down on the other side of what just happened.

  “Tesoro mío,” he groans into my ear as he shudders in release.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Enrique

  We’re under the covers now, me on my back with Leira’s chin resting on my chest.

  “You aren’t going to ask me if I enjoyed it?”

  I grin as I stare at the wall ahead, gently stroking her bare back.

  “That’s one more thing you have to learn about sex. A man should never ask.”

  “Because they always assume they’re good at it?” she laughs.

  “In my case, that would be the truth.”

  She reaches out to pinch my nipple and I wriggle under her in mild protest.

  “But really, a man should know if he pleased his woman or not.”

  “Do women ever ask?”

  I laugh enough for my chest to vibrate, causing her head to bob up and down.

  “What?” she urges.

  “A woman never has to ask for altogether different reasons.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she says in a teasingly smug voice, then laughs.

  “You were alright.”

  That earns me another pinch of the nipple and I laugh, taking her hand in mine. I shift my head to kiss her forehead. “You were perfect.”

  The smile she returns sends a nice little surge of warmth through my veins. I could look at that smile forever.

  “I do have one question,” I say.

  “No,” she says with a soft smile, reading the question there. “I don’t regret it at all.”

  “Diabla mía,” I tease, pinching her nose.

  “As though you’re a saint,” she says, slapping my hand away.

  “Apparently being bad runs in the family,” I say, thinking back to all the stories about my mother and grandfather I heard tonight.

  “You have to tell him who you are while we’re here. I think he’d risk the danger for that. Life is short. You don’t want to wait until it’s too late. We all know what it’s like to lose someone.”