Deja whimpered, and Alejandro couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her anymore. He wanted to taste that sound.

She smiled against his mouth and spread her lips. The tip of his tongue swiped across her bottom lip before she sucked it into her mouth. He groaned, finally breaking and giving her what she wanted.

Alejandro pushed his fingers into her with hard pressure and made sure to drag the pads of his fingers along her g-spot as he retreated. She cried out in his mouth, and so he did it again.

And again.

And again.

After a month of barely contained need, Alejandro let himself go, fingerfucking Deja as she suckled on his tongue. His dick was so hard it hurt, and he was humping himself into her hip. When he moved his thumb over her clit, her head fell back, and she screamed aloud, spasming around his digits and shuddering underneath him.

Alejandro smiled against the soft rounded point of her chin as he moved his hand between her legs.

“Let me take pictures of you,” he said. Alejandro wasn’t the kind of man to make demands, but he could get very close if motivated, and Deja was the best motivation. He hadn’t ever thought about dusting his camera off, but now he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to aim it at Deja, to take pictures of her so she could see herself the way he did.

“Oh, fuck,” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Pictures, Deja,” he said again.

“Yes. Okay. Fuck. Right there,” she groaned.

He covered her mouth with his again and focused all his attention on getting her all the way off. They were moving so forcefully that the poster of Los Angeles above his couch was shaking. He hoped it wouldn’t fall, but he wasn’t willing to stop. He kissed and fucked her until she screamed into his mouth, and her pussy clenched around his fingers, and then gushed warm and wet into his palm.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close as she shivered. And then he moved his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.

Just the taste of her was too much. He couldn’t have known that or else maybe he wouldn’t have tasted her, but he did, and then he came in his pants.

“Fuck,” he said as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

He was embarrassed, and Deja thought that only made him sexier. She couldn’t believe it was possible, but red-faced, sweating Alejandro was somehow even better than starched-shirt-buttoned-under-his-chin Alejandro.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he muttered to himself, refusing to look her in the eyes as he stood from the couch.

“It’s a compliment,” she said, standing to follow him.

“Is it?” he asked skeptically, heading toward the bathroom.

“Very.”