You Had Me at Hola

This erotic story excerpt by Alexis Daria from You Had Me at Hola was originally published by Avon/HarperCollins and is the Winner in the Good Sex Awards Best Sexy Talk Category.

You Had Me at Hola

“What’s up?” Jasmine asked. “You’re distracted. You keep looking around the room.”

“Oh.” Ashton’s face warmed. “I keep waiting for your cousins to barge through the door.”

Her teasing expression smoothed and her gaze turned hot. “They don’t know you’re here.”

“No? I thought you told them everything.” She shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his. “Not everything.”

And there it was. An allusion to the previous night.

Suddenly, Ashton couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened, his skin heated, and before he could talk himself out of it, he tossed his script on the floor and reached for her.

They came together, Jasmine all but leaping onto his lap to straddle his legs. He planted his hands on her round ass and squeezed as her mouth crushed down on his.

“You taste like pizza,” she murmured against his lips.

“So do you.”

Ashton pumped his hips up toward her heat, pressed so close to him. Slipping his fingers under the hem of her romper, he groaned when he found her bare. “No panties?”

“Nuh-uh.” She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her chest. “No bra either.”

“You’re incredible.” He breathed the words against her neck as his fingers flexed on her breasts, cupping them through the thin fabric. “How do you take this thing off?”

“Like this.” She got off his lap, and when he would have protested, he swallowed his words instead, practically drooling as she yanked on the neckline and shimmied out of the garment. And then she was utterly, gloriously naked.

“Ven acá,” he said with a growl, catching her wrist and pulling her over to him.

With a breathless giggle, she resumed her place on his lap and wrapped one arm around his shoulders. Her other hand snaked down between them to stroke him through the fabric of his pants. He gasped, his cock surging at her touch.

They were doing this. They were definitely doing this. Consequences be damned, he had to get inside her.

“Forget what I said yesterday.” Desperation made his voice gravelly. “We should definitely have sex.”

She met his eyes, her expression uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He realized he was being presumptive and hastened to add, “If you are?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I am one hundred percent on board with having penetrative sex with you.”

He groaned and pressed his face into her shoulder. “Did I really call it that?”

“You sure did.” She touched his chin, gently urging him to look at her. “Do you want to tell me why?”

“I . . . don’t cross that line with coworkers.” It was as good a way to explain it as any.

She just nodded. “It’s a smart policy. I get it.”

“But I want to . . . with you.” Total understatement.

Her smile was sweet, but that fire was back in her eyes. “Me too.”

It seemed silly to sit around talking when he had a naked woman on his lap. And now that they were on the same page . . .

He gripped her thighs and stood, lifting her as he had the night before. “Condoms?”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, arching to thrust her breasts in his face. “Bedroom.”

He carried her in, but didn’t set her by the bed. Instead, he put her on the dresser. “Quédate aquí,” he ordered sternly, and she giggled.

He found the condoms in the drawer with the lube, so he grabbed that too. The assortment of pink and purple vibrating devices was interesting, but not for tonight. Tonight, he’d keep it simple.

That line of thinking implied they’d have more than just tonight, so he pushed the thought aside and returned to her with a deep, searching kiss.

She helped him undress, their movements frantic and fumbling. “Hurry,” she kept saying, and he gloried in the knowledge that she was as anxious for this as he was. She already had a condom unwrapped by the time he’d shed his pants and underwear, so he held still—barely—while she unrolled it down his length with torturously slow movements. But when she reached for the bottle of lube, he shook his head and took it from her.

“Hop down,” he said, helping her off the dresser. Then he turned her around to face the rectangular mirror hanging over it.

Their eyes met in the reflection, and a slow, sensual smile spread over her lips.

Apparently she was on board with his idea, too, because she spread her feet and braced her hands on the edge of the dresser. Her willingness and enthusiasm were arousing all on their own, but damn, she was stunning too. He swallowed hard, admiring her long legs, the curve of her ass, the arch of her back—until she turned and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Are you going to take all day?”

“No, querida. I’m here.”

And he was. He was here, all in, for whatever came next. For tonight, it was just them. Just this.

Tomorrow . . . well, they’d deal with tomorrow when it arrived.

*

Querida. He’d called her querida.

Warmth spread over Jasmine’s body at the term of endearment. The way it rolled off his tongue, the feeling of being dear to someone, made her want to get even closer to him. And tonight, they would.

She curled her toes into the carpet as she watched Ashton prepping behind her, the mirror affording her a front row view. God, she loved the look of him naked. He was perfectly proportioned, with an easy strength and confidence in his own skin that was so damned attractive. And his cock was pretty great too.

He squirted some lube into his hand, then set the bottle aside. Stepping closer, he gripped her hip, then slipped the lubed-up hand between her legs.

At the first touch of his fingers on her pussy, she shut her eyes and let out a low moan. The way he caressed her there was so fucking lovely. Gentle, but sure. He smoothed the lube over her folds, coating her with the gel to make sure she was wet and open. His fingers teased her entrance and she sighed, her breath hitching when he found her clit and stroked.

“Please,” she whispered, shaking her ass to hurry him along.

It worked. With a groan, he moved behind her and bent his knees. His thighs pressed against hers, and then the head of his cock prodded at her. Their eyes met in the mirror and she sucked in a breath. His handsome features were stark with the intensity of his concentration, and his dark gaze entranced her. This kind of single-minded focus—on her—was a turn-on Like no other. Then he pushed forward, filling her, stretching her. Pleasure detonated her thoughts into stardust. The lube and her own readiness eased the way, but he still felt impossibly thick inside her.

And so fucking good.

He had to rock himself back and forth a bit to stretch her, but when he was fully sheathed, with his hips pressed against her ass, she dug her nails into the edge of the dresser and hissed out a breath.

Panting, he leaned over her back and braced his hands next to hers. “Okay?”

“Perfect.” She thrust her butt back against him, and it was like that one move broke his control. His arm snaked around her waist and he began to thrust, setting a fast, pounding pace that left her breathless. The power in those thighs, the passion in his gaze—he was consuming her from the inside out. And all she could do was hold on for the ride.

“Cójelo,” he growled in her ear, and she just sobbed “yes” over and over in response.

Her entire world narrowed to his cock shuttling in and out of her, his skin slapping against hers, his harsh pants and growls, his lips hot against her ear whispering Spanish dirty talk. His hands moved up and down her body—rolling her tight nipples, squeezing her madly bouncing breasts, rubbing circles over her clit. She was a mass of throbbing sensation, originating from where he hammered into her. Just like before, her pleasure was his sole focus.

She loved it. She couldn’t take it. She never wanted him to stop.

When her limbs threatened to give out, he gathered her close, letting her lean on him. He held her up with his hands on her breasts and between her legs, and with the force of his straining thighs and cock. Their sweat-dampened bodies slid together, generating heat and friction.

Through it all, they watched each other in the mirror. There were no barriers here, nothing but naked, hungry passion. She’d spent so long trying to get past his walls and now she was in. What she found there rocked her to the core. She hadn’t been prepared, and now, with her emotional defenses demolished by the waves of arousal coursing through her, she was perilously close to the abyss at the end of the Jasmine Scale.

When her eyes tried to drift shut, powerless against the ecstasy he was building in her, he thrust harder and murmured, “Mírame.”

Look at me.

Ashton’s gaze was blazing hot, demanding that she feel everything he had to give and more. So she did.

Electric spirals of bliss of flashed through her, and her cries took on an urgent pitch. She was close to her breaking point. This much sensation, this much emotion, couldn’t sustain itself. It had to crest, or it would consume them.

She reached behind her and gripped his thigh with one hand, reveling in the unyielding muscles, in the strength behind his thrusts. And surrendered fully to the pleasure zinging through her.

“Querida,” Ashton breathed in her ear. “Come for me.”

How could she do otherwise?

Her body tensed, all her muscles contracting. And then she exploded from within. She shook in his arms, wracked by the waves of sensation flooding her senses and overloading her nerve endings. Euphoria cleared her mind and left her senseless to anything that wasn’t the press of his skin on hers. She would have collapsed onto the carpet if it weren’t for him.

His arm tightened around her waist. He braced himself against the dresser with his free hand. And with his eyes still on hers in the mirror, he pumped into her until, with a grimace and a groan, his body stiffened and he followed her over the edge.

The silence in the room was deafening without the sounds of their pants and moans. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. Her mind was utterly blank, still focused on her body and taking stock of her limbs, her balance, and where they were still joined.

Then, a single thought came to her: Ashton Suarez had just fucked her brains out. And she’d loved it.

 

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Alexis Daria writes stories about successful Latinx characters and their (occasionally messy) familias. Her debut Take the Lead won the 2018 RITA® Award for “Best First Book” and her latest release, You Had Me at Hola, is a national bestseller, Target Diverse Book Club Pick, and New York Times Editor’s Choice Pick. Alexis is a lifelong New Yorker who loves Broadway musicals and pizza.

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