Finding Carolina's
Copyright© 2026 by duncan idaho
Chapter 6: Surrender to El Diablo
Her hand in mine, I followed her through the bar.
The men at the tables barely glanced up, just another tourist heading to the back with one of the girls. Nothing worth noticing.
The hallway was the same. Narrow. Dim. The single bulb casting weak light on the identical doors.
Adrianna didn’t stop at the third door this time. She kept walking, past it, past another, until she reached the last room at the end. New room. New key. She unlocked it with a quick twist and pulled me inside.
The door clicked shut and she was on me. Her mouth found mine before I could see the room. Her hands grabbed my shirt, pulling the linen apart, buttons scattering across the floor. I didn’t care. My fingers found the hem of her white top and yanked it over her head, and she was already working the button of my shorts, her knuckles brushing my stomach.
“Wait,” I said, breathless.
She stopped, her hands frozen on my waistband. Her chest heaved, bare in the dim light, the gold chain catching the glow from a small lamp by the bed.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She stared at me for a beat. Then she laughed, low and real. “I’m more than okay.” Her hand found the back of my neck, pulling my forehead to hers. “I’ve been waiting to do this all week.”
“Then don’t stop.”
She didn’t. Her mouth was hungrier than before. Less tentative. She kissed me like she was trying to climb inside my skin, her tongue pressing deep, her teeth grazing my lower lip.
I pushed her back toward the bed, and she landed with a soft bounce, pulling me down on top of her. Her legs wrapped around my waist instantly. Her hips bucked up against mine, grinding, searching for friction.
The heat of her pressed through her tiny skirt, through my shorts, and I groaned against her neck.
“More,” she whispered. “I want more this time.”
Her hand found my cock through my shorts, gripping me through the fabric. She squeezed, stroked, her thumb circling the head. My hips thrust into her hand automatically, chasing the sensation.
“Take these off,” she said, tugging at my shorts.
I stood long enough to push them down. My boxers followed.
She watched, her eyes dark, her lips parted. When I was naked, she reached for me, her fingers wrapping around my shaft, pulling me toward her.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” she said, her voice low. “Every night. Lying in this bed, thinking about you.”
Her hand stroked me slowly, deliberately, her thumb spreading the moisture across the head.
I closed my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me.
“Look at me,” she said.
I opened my eyes. She was still wearing her skirt. The white fabric had ridden up her thighs, revealing the black triangle of her underwear.
She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down, lifting her hips to slide them off. Then she reached behind her and unhooked the skirt. It fell away. She lay before me, completely bare, her legs slightly parted. Her breasts rose and fell with quick breaths. Her hand still held me, tugging gently, guiding me toward her.
“Come here.”
I crawled over her, my body covering hers. The skin-on-skin contact sent a shiver through me. Her legs wrapped around my waist again, and I felt her wetness against the tip of my cock.
“Condom,” I said.
She reached over to the nightstand, pulled a square from the drawer, tore it open with her teeth. The same move as before. But this time, instead of rolling it onto me herself, she held it out to me.
“Your turn.”
I took it, rolled it on, and positioned myself at her entrance. She was slick, ready, her hips tilting up to meet mine.
“Slow,” she said. “This time, slow.”
I entered her inch by inch. Her mouth opened, a long, slow exhale. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, watching me watch her. The feeling of her opening around me, welcoming me, was almost too much.
When I was fully inside her, I stopped. Just breathing. Just feeling. Her walls pulsed around me, adjusting, gripping.
“Move,” she whispered.
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