“You’re beautiful.” Carlos murmured, his breath tickling your neck. “If anyone says otherwise, they’re damn wrong.” He chuckled to himself, teeth gently scraping against your earlobe as his hands roamed freely over your curves.

They groped at your curves, admiring evey inch of open skin. He showered you with kisses and tender affections, all while whispering sweet nothings to you.

His lips moved slowly across the sensitive flesh of your neck causing you to let out a soft gasp. His large, warm hands continued to knead the flesh of your love handles, pressing your body against his so that your back was flush against his chest.

“Look at yourself,” He whispered, hoping that you would glance at your reflection in the large mirror that stood in front of you. “Please.” He begged.

You finally obliged, opening your eyes to see fully what Carlos was doing to you. You could hear him let out a pleased hum as his thumbs rubbed slow circles around your stomach. “Tão perfeito, porra.”

It wasn’t rare to hear Carlos speak Portuguese to you, but he only did it when he was serious. You could see in his reflection that his pupils were blown wide as if he was in a trance. His eyes were fixated on your expressions to make sure that he was making you feel good. It was a bit intimidating.