What Happened in That Workshop During the Storm

Valeria Montenegro was not accustomed to hearing the word “no.” She had built an investment firm through ambition, talent, and a charm that disarmed rivals and allies alike. Her heels struck like an authoritative metronome in boardrooms, where men with decades of experience trembled beneath her sharp gaze.

The encounter took place on a stormy afternoon on the outskirts of the city, when her Italian coupé refused to start in the middle of a muddy street. Wearing a white linen dress that clung to her figure like a caress, Valeria pushed open the door of the nearest workshop. Each step, heightened by her stiletto heels, echoed with authority—a polished intrusion into the grease- and norteño-music-filled space.

Her fair hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders, golden highlights catching the little light that filtered inside, as though refusing to yield to the gloom. Her brown eyes were deep and calculating, a hypnotic contrast to the smooth skin that seemed sculpted by a sun she had always known how to protect herself from. There was something undeniable about her presence, an intimidating perfection that needed no words to make itself noticed.

There he was. Damián Rojas, in a sleeveless gray shirt, tattooed arms, and a crooked smile that screamed “trouble.” His skin gleamed beneath a thin film of oil, and sweat ran down his neck before disappearing beneath the fabric. When he saw her enter, he raised an eyebrow and wiped his hands on a rag that was already dirty.

“We don’t offer valet service, ma’am,” he said. The mocking tone barely concealed the insolence in his gaze.

Valeria did not flinch. With a calculated movement, she brushed aside a damp strand stuck to her forehead.

“My car is outside. I need you to fix it. And do it quickly—my time is expensive.”

Damián watched her for a moment, as if deciding whether arguing with someone like her was worthwhile. In the end, he shrugged and went out into the rain to inspect the car. He returned minutes later with a diagnosis that sounded more like provocation than a technical report.

“It’s going to cost you. A lot.” His smile made it clear that he enjoyed watching her struggle not to frown.

“Money isn’t a problem, as long as you do your job properly.”

“Always this bossy?” he asked, leaning against the counter. The smile remained, but this time there was something darker behind it, an implicit challenge.

“Always this insubordinate?” she replied, taking a step toward him, closing the distance enough for the air between them to seem to vibrate.

Only then did her surroundings begin to take shape in her perception. Until that moment she had looked no farther than her own discomfort, but now the details emerged in absolute contrast to her orderly world. The floor was stained with oil and the air smelled of metal, yet the tools were arranged on shelves with meticulous order, each in its place, as though someone were trying to impose a measure of discipline on the chaos of manual labor.

What caught her attention were the posters on the walls: girls in provocative poses, perfect smiles, minimal clothing. One especially large poster showed a woman reclining on the hood of a sports car, her tits almost spilling from her top and one hand between her legs. Valeria narrowed her eyes, left them fixed on the image a second longer than necessary, and made a comment with one eyebrow raised.

“Such an… illustrative decoration,” she said, letting the words fall with the cadence of someone making no attempt to hide her judgment.

Damián, who had crouched beside the engine again, lifted his head when he heard her. His smile slowly widened.

“Inspiring, isn’t it?” he said, turning his neck toward the poster and then back to her. “But don’t worry, rich lady. No one here can compete with you.”

Valeria kept her expression neutral, but the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed the fact that his words had not left her indifferent. That man’s audacity seemed to enjoy every small instant in which he managed to throw her off balance.

“I hope you’re as skilled with your hands as you are with your mouth,” she said, her tone flat but carrying a hidden spark that did not go unnoticed.

Damián gave a low, unhurried laugh.

“My hands never disappoint,” he replied, raising a tool as though it were a trophy, his dark eyes fixed on her. “And neither does my mouth, when necessary.”

Valeria crossed her arms, conscious of how the posture emphasized her breasts—something he noticed, despite trying to hide it.

“Do you always work this slowly?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as she measured him with her eyes.

“Always this impatient?” he shot back, setting the tool on the bench and wiping his hands. “This isn’t one of those meetings of yours where everyone is dying to please you. Here, things get done properly, even if they take time.”

The remark drew a brief laugh from her, more dangerous than amused.

“I see you have a lot to learn about how to treat a client. Is that how you speak to every woman who comes in here?”

“Only the ones who come in with airs of superiority.” Damián took a step toward her, stopping precisely at the edge of her personal space. Despite the obvious difference between their worlds, there was not a trace of submission in his stance. “Besides, you don’t look like the sort who needs anyone to tell her what’s good for her.”

The air between them grew thicker, charged with something neither the rain outside nor the background noise could dispel. Valeria felt a tingling travel down her spine, but refused to surrender to the heat beginning to kindle inside her.

“I prefer results to empty words,” she said, her voice firm, touched with defiance.

“Perfect. Then stop supervising as if this were your office and let me work.”

The sound of a wrench hitting the floor broke the tension. Valeria turned her head and noticed, for the first time, two young men in the back—two apprentices who looked to be around twenty and had gone unnoticed among the tools. They exchanged knowing looks and smiles, murmuring something she could not hear but Damián caught immediately.

“Are your employees always this unprofessional?” she asked, her icy gaze pinning the boys in place and forcing them to lower their eyes.

Damián exhaled slowly before walking toward them. His figure rose like a shadow, and the two straightened, aware they had crossed a line.

“Want to share the joke?” he asked. His tone seemed relaxed, but the hardness in it made them quickly shake their heads. He lowered his voice. “Go home for today. And you’d better come back with the right attitude. You know where the door is.”

The young men awkwardly gathered their things and headed for the exit, avoiding Valeria’s gaze. As one passed her, he muttered a hurried apology before disappearing through the metal door.

“They’re my cousins,” Damián said, turning toward her. “They’re barely learning the trade, but they have more haste than sense.”

The workshop fell silent except for the rain tapping against the corrugated roof. Now alone, his presence seemed to fill the entire space, as though the place were an extension of his body. Valeria crossed her arms, the echo of his reprimand still ringing in the air, while a spark she refused to name caught between them.

“And sometimes you have to pull a little on the leash,” Damián added. His words were loaded with intent, and the way he looked at her made it clear he was not speaking only about his apprentices.

She watched him return to the car and bend to take a tool from the open box beside the hood. The movement tightened the fabric across the worked muscles of his back. His rough, grease-stained hands handled the metal with an ease that contained something more: a raw, almost savage energy that filled the distance between them.

“Are you always this loud?” she asked at last, her sarcasm sharp, though her eyes continued following every movement he made.

“Always this refined?” Damián replied, resting his hands on the edge of the hood and looking straight at her. His tone was casual, but the intensity of his gaze spoke of something else.

Valeria gave a dry laugh.

“There’s a difference between roughness and efficiency, though you don’t seem familiar with the concept.”

He took a step, his boots resonating on the stained floor. He stopped close enough for her to detect the scent of metal mixed with a faint trace of sweat and cheap soap. His height forced her to lift her face to hold his gaze. The tension became almost tangible, a thread about to snap.

“And you don’t look like someone who lets a little roughness intimidate her,” he murmured, his deep voice half invitation, half challenge.

Valeria’s breathing quickened, though her expression remained unchanged. Something inside her ignited when she saw Damián’s still-dirty hands mere inches from her white linen.

“It isn’t about being intimidated,” she said, leaning slightly toward him. “It’s about refusing to settle for mediocrity.”

Damián did not look away. He raised one stained hand and deliberately let his fingertips brush the fabric at her hip. The grease left a dark mark, a calculated contrast against her immaculate perfection.

“Like this?” he asked, almost whispering. The movement was so slow and deliberate that it left her speechless for a moment.

The heat between them flared. His hand moved down her hip to the beginning of her thigh, tracing a path that combined roughness with care. Valeria did not retreat. Her lips parted, but she said nothing. She raised a hand to push him against the chest, and the gesture, far from being refusal, only brought them closer.

“You’re an animal,” she murmured, without reproach. There was something electric in her eyes.

“And you provoked me,” he replied before bending toward her.

The first contact was rough, without preamble. Their lips met with enough force to make them step backward and collide with the car. Valeria let her back rest against the edge of the hood while Damián’s callused hands held her firmly, trapping her between his body and the cold metal. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, tangled with hers, sucked at her as if he wanted to draw out her breath, and she returned his hunger, biting his lower lip until he growled.

The combination of roughness and delicacy with which he handled her set every nerve alight. His hands rose along her thighs with controlled urgency, slowly lifting the hem of her dress while his lips descended along her neck, leaving a trail of saliva and bites that made her arch. Every kiss was a wet mark, every bite a warning that he had no intention of treating her gently.

“You’re going to get dirty,” he murmured against the curve of her throat, his lips brushing her skin with mockery and challenge. His fingers were already beneath her dress, feeling the firm flesh of her thighs and climbing until they found the elastic of her lace thong.

“I don’t care,” she answered, barely above a whisper. Her fine, precise nails slid down Damián’s back and dug in hard enough to draw a growl from him. It was as though she wanted to return the mark, a silent gesture about who truly held control.

His hands slid over her bare thighs, leaving dark streaks of grease on her smooth skin, a contrast that needed no explanation: he did not merely want to touch her; he wanted to claim her. Two coarse fingers slipped beneath the lace and found her pussy already soaked, slick and throbbing beneath his fingertip. Damián growled approvingly when he realized how wet she was.

“Look at you,” he murmured against her ear, dragging his fingers between her folds, separating them and playing with the wetness. “All refined and bossy, and your pussy is dripping for a mechanic. What a naughty thing.”

The sound that escaped Valeria’s lips was not a simple moan but something restrained, charged with an emotion that seemed to vibrate through the air. Her always-composed body curved toward him like a leaf yielding to the wind, and her fingers found refuge at his nape, tangling in his hair with a mixture of need and defiance. Damián slid one finger inside her, then two, and began pumping slowly, feeling her walls tighten around him with every thrust.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” she murmured, but her burning eyes said otherwise, and her hips were already moving on their own against his hand.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” he replied. He curled his fingers inside her, searching for the exact spot, and when he found it Valeria jerked and grabbed the collar of his shirt. Without asking permission, he moved one knee between her thighs, pressing against his hand so that every stroke struck deeper. The direct pressure tore a gasp from her that filled the workshop like an intimate echo.

Valeria lifted her face, challenging him to go farther, although her body had already decided. Her hips moved instinctively, seeking a contact her pride would not allow her to request aloud. She rubbed against his thick fingers, riding them without realizing it, a thread of broken breath escaping her mouth that she could not conceal.

“Don’t lie,” Damián murmured, bending to kiss her again, this time deeper and more demanding. His tongue claimed her mouth with a force that undid her while the rhythm of his fingers kept every inch of her burning. He withdrew his glistening fingers and brought them to his mouth, sucking them slowly before her eyes. “You taste delicious, ma’am. Refined ladies taste better than the rest.”

She stared at him with her lips open, scandalized and aroused in equal measure. Before she could answer, he tore off her thong with a sharp tug. The lace gave with a snap and dangled from his hand like a trophy before falling to the floor. His hands continued upward to the edge of her dress, pulling it up until she was completely bare from the waist down, leaning against the hood with her legs parted by his knee.

“Damián…” she murmured, her voice trembling, her nails digging into his shoulders as though searching for something solid to cling to while the world she had built began to crumble.

He looked at her with an intensity that stole her breath and, with a precision bordering on cruelty, finished pushing the dress up to her waist. His dark eyes traveled over her body without shame, like a predator studying its prey. Her shaved pussy, naked and gleaming with moisture, was exposed beneath the workshop’s yellow light.

“You’re beautiful, but you look even better like this, with your pussy wet and nothing covering you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, while his coarse but skillful fingers traced paths across her skin. Every touch alternated the urgency of a man claiming her with the deliberation of someone who knew exactly what he provoked.

He dropped to his knees in front of her without warning. He slipped his arms beneath her thighs, lifted her, and sat her on the edge of the hood, her legs hanging open over his shoulders. Valeria managed a gasp before feeling the first lick: long, slow, flat, from bottom to top, from her entrance to her clitoris. Damián’s rough tongue lingered on the swollen tip and gave it a quick lash that made her scream.

“Oh God…” she gasped, throwing her head back and striking it against the metal.

He gave her no respite. He licked her from top to bottom, buried his whole tongue in her, withdrew it, circled her clitoris, caught it between his lips, and sucked as if he wanted to tear it away. His short beard scraped her inner thighs, leaving red marks she would wear for hours. Whenever he felt she was close, he slowed, pulled back, looked up at her from below with his chin shining with saliva and her juices, and smiled.

“Please,” Valeria blurted, and the word hurt to say. She had never asked for anything in her life, and now she was sprawled open-legged across a greasy hood, begging a mechanic to keep eating her pussy.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he growled, returning to the attack. He thrust two fingers inside her and worked her clitoris with his tongue at a firm, relentless pace, while his fingers moved in and out with a wet, obscene sound that echoed through the workshop. Valeria clenched around him, her thighs contracting over his ears, and exploded amid muffled cries, shaking over his mouth. He did not release her until the final wave had passed through her body. He rose, licking his lips, wearing the satisfied smile of a man who had just eaten well.

“I’m not finished with you yet, ma’am,” he said, pulling her to her feet.

She arched her back, one hand braced on the hood to keep her balance while Damián’s lips descended in a burning line from her neck to her collarbone. Each time his teeth grazed the curve of her throat, a shudder ran through her. He lowered the straps of her dress, tugged at her bodice, and pulled her breasts over the lace bra, leaving them exposed, her nipples already hard and erect.

With a decisive movement, he lowered the fabric until she was completely exposed. Her bare skin was marked by the dark traces his fingers had left. Without restraint, he leaned down and ran his tongue over one of those marks, licking it with raw aggression, his hot breath mingling with the workshop’s metallic scent. Every pass was a declaration of dominance.

Valeria let out a muffled moan, soft and melodic in contrast to his roughness. Her nails left little crescents in Damián’s shoulders, an act that was more surrender than resistance. Her body arched toward him as if seeking more than her mind could process.

His lips closed around one of her nipples, leaving wet kisses that mingled adoration with brutality. His large hands seized her breasts whole, squeezing and bringing them together, marking her with his grip. He sucked with almost ferocious intensity, drawing broken gasps from her, his tongue moving with deliberate precision while his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. He moved from one breast to the other, leaving each areola red and shining with saliva, biting the nipple until she cried out.

“You have no idea how hard you make me,” he growled against her chest, the words hoarse and charged with a desire that seemed to consume him. He took one of her hands and guided it to the bulge pressing against his fly. “Touch it. Touch what you do to me, fancy lady.”

Valeria squeezed his cock through the fabric and felt its thickness, its length, the heat burning through the cotton. Without thinking, she lowered his zipper, reached inside, and pulled it out. It was thick and hard as an iron bar, veins standing out, the tip already shining with pre-cum. She wrapped her hand around it but could not encircle it completely. Damián groaned hoarsely as she began moving up and down, squeezing the base and using her thumb to spread the moisture from the tip over the crown.

“That’s it,” he panted, his voice thick. “Look what you do to me with that little rich-girl hand.”

She looked at him defiantly, licked her lips, and, before he could anticipate it, dropped to her knees on the oil-stained floor, not caring that her white linen dress would be ruined forever. She gripped his cock with both hands and took it into her mouth in one motion, swallowing until the tip touched the back of her throat. Damián swore and grabbed her hair.

“Fuck me,” he growled. “The lady knows how to suck. Look at you.”

Valeria began sucking him hungrily, moving her head up and down at a pace that allowed no delicacy. Her tongue curled around the crown, her lips stretched around his girth, and with her free hand she caressed his balls, squeezing them with perfect pressure. She filled her mouth with saliva, let it spill from the sides, and swallowed his cock whole again until she gagged. Damián held her head and began fucking her mouth, thrusting with his hips, sinking to the bottom, withdrawing his gleaming cock, and pushing it back in.

“That’s it, don’t let go,” he growled, watching the mouth of the most arrogant woman ever to set foot in his workshop work his cock as though her life depended on it. His whole body trembled, and he pulled out abruptly, his cock throbbing, before he came. “Not yet, you bitch. I’m still going to fuck you.”

He seized her hips with tremendous strength and lifted her from the floor, seating her on the hood like a man accustomed to bending reality to his will. He leaned in, his firm chest against hers, holding her with one hand at the small of her back while using the other to part her thighs without asking. His gaze burned; she met it with shining eyes, as though, despite her body’s surrender, her spirit refused to yield completely.

“You’re a goddamn temptation, you know that?” he growled, his hot breath brushing her face before he gently bit the curve of her neck. “I’m going to fuck you right here on this hood until you forget your last name.”

She sought his mouth, but Damián took control, kissing her with an aggression that left her breathless. Without giving her time to react, he pushed her backward until she lay across the hood. The contrast between the cold metal and the heat of his body made her arch, and her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer. She felt his cock striking between her thighs, sliding over her soaked folds without yet entering.

“Come on, do it already… if you’re in such a hurry,” Valeria whispered, her tone soft but defiant. The spark in her eyes recalled that, even in surrender, she was not entirely subdued. “Put it in me, mechanic. Fuck my pussy already.”

Damián gave a low laugh, sliding one firm hand along her bare thigh while guiding his cock through her folds with the other, rubbing the tip against her clitoris.

“You asked for it. I’m not going to stop. And don’t complain when you can’t walk.”

Without further preamble, he took her by the hips, positioned himself against her, and entered in one blow, burying himself to the balls. Valeria arched even farther, releasing a long moan, almost a scream, that echoed off the workshop walls. The impact left her breathless, split her open, filled her completely, and her body took a moment to adjust to the thickness stretching her. Soon, however, she began moving to the rhythm he set, every thrust filling her with raw, overwhelming pleasure.

Damián held nothing back. His hands gripped her hips firmly, fingers sinking into the soft flesh and marking her skin as though he needed her to feel every part of him. Each movement was precise, a dry slap of pelvis against pelvis, his balls striking her ass with every thrust while Valeria, trapped between the metal and his body, surrendered without entirely losing that defiant spark. Her pussy dripped down her thighs, a liquid, obscene sound accompanying every entry and withdrawal of his cock, mingling with the patter of rain.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she whispered, a barely perceptible smile curving her lips between gasps.

The comment made him growl, caught between amusement and challenge.

“Not even close. I’m not finished with you yet.” He held her more tightly, his movements becoming more intense and deeper, forcing her to grab whatever she could to keep from being thrown off.

He caught her ankles and pushed them upward until her feet were nearly on his shoulders, then began fucking her in that position, her hips folded against her chest and giving his cock access to the deepest part of her. Every thrust drew a new note from her throat. Valeria clung to the hood, nails scraping the cold metal as her body arched to receive him. Her dress, pushed to her waist, exposed her marked hips, tense thighs, and breasts bouncing with every blow.

“That’s it… more,” she gasped, her voice broken. “Harder, asshole, harder.”

Her hands slid down his back, tracing desperate lines as if she too wanted to leave her mark. She dug her nails into his buttocks to push him deeper.

“Like this?” Damián growled, seeking her mouth and gently biting her lower lip while splitting her open with his thrusts. “Is this how you like me to put it in you, ma’am?”

She laughed against his mouth, but the challenge remained in her eyes.

“Almost… but I still want more. Turn me over.”

Damián, caught in the most basic of desires, withdrew abruptly, turned her over on the hood, and placed her face down, forcing her to lean forward with her breasts pressed against the cold metal and her ass raised. He ran a hand down her back, marked it with his open palm, and slapped her right buttock once. The crack echoed through the workshop. She let out a surprised moan, followed by a laugh.

“Now that’s better,” she whispered.

He spread her buttocks with both hands, admired her red, open pussy gleaming with juices, and penetrated her again with a dry thrust. In that position he went even deeper, and Valeria moaned uncontrollably, her face pressed against the hood, her hands searching for something to hold. The way she arched her back, legs slightly parted, was an offering. The shadow-filled, echoing workshop amplified her ragged breathing and moans, which grew more intense with every movement. Damián seized her hair, wrapped it around his fist, and pulled her head back, forcing her neck to arch.

“Tell me,” he growled, leaning over her. “Do you want me to continue? Do you want me to make you completely mine? Say yes. Say you want me to fuck you everywhere.”

She turned her face, her eyes blazing, cheek resting on the metal.

“Yes… make me feel everything. Fuck me however you want.”

Their hips collided in a deeper rhythm. Damián ran a thumb moistened with her own juices along the crack of her ass, pressing the tight entrance and playing with the muscle. Valeria tensed, then relaxed, and he felt her press herself against his finger, asking for more without words. But then, in the midst of ecstasy, Valeria lifted her head, her voice cracked but determined.

“Use all of me,” she said, barely above a whisper, though clearly enough for him to understand. Her gaze became defiant and pleading at once. “Do it… there too. Put it in my ass.”

Damián stopped for a second, surprised by the request, but the desire in her eyes left no doubt. He withdrew his cock from her pussy, wet and steaming, and coated it thoroughly along her crack. He let a thread of saliva fall from his mouth onto the tight hole and worked it slowly with two fingers, one first and then two, listening as she panted and pushed her hips backward, seeking him. The heat of her skin told him all he needed to know.

“Are you sure?” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Because once I start, I won’t stop. I’m going to fuck your ass the way it deserves.”

Valeria, her face flushed and her body trembling, nodded.

“I’m more than ready. Do it. Put it all in me.”

He adjusted his position, pressed the tip against the closed muscle, and pushed slowly. The first thrust was slow and deliberate, testing her limits. The resistance yielded inch by inch until the crown entered and she released a long, guttural moan that mixed pain and pleasure. Damián stopped, letting her breathe, feeling the tight ring close around his cock with a force that nearly made him come then and there.

“God…” Valeria gasped, gripping the hood as though it were the only thing keeping her upright. “Slower… don’t stop. Keep putting it in.”

Carefully, millimeter by millimeter, he sank all the way in until his hips were pressed against her buttocks. One hand moved over her arched back while the other found her clitoris from the front and began rubbing it in slow circles as he waited for her to adjust. When he felt her relax, he began moving. Short strokes at first, then longer ones, then deep thrusts, each one drawing a sharper moan from Valeria.

Her words urged him to move with greater intensity. Each thrust made him feel more connected to every part of her. Her firm yet flexible body followed the frantic rhythm, her moans echoing like a wild melody through the empty workshop. Damián fucked her ass with full thrusts, his balls striking her soaked pussy with every entry, while the fingers working her clitoris gave her no respite.

“Put it all in… every bit,” she panted, cheek pressed against the metal and mouth open with pleasure. “Break me, asshole, break my ass.”

Damián, eyes half closed, knew the moment was not merely physical. The way she surrendered, accepted him completely, and asked for more even there made him feel more alive. Valeria, for her part, was completely lost. The contrast between her initial discomfort and the pleasure that followed carried her somewhere she had never explored. Every thrust in her ass sent a shock through her that joined the fingers on her clitoris, and she felt as though she would split in half.

“God, don’t stop,” she gasped, her voice trembling as she felt her body reach its limit. “I’m going… I’m going to come, I’m going to come…”

When she finally came, it was like a wave passing through her completely, her back arching and her nails digging into the metal. Her ass clenched around his cock in spasms, squeezing it with such force that Damián’s vision blurred. She screamed, not caring who might hear her, and continued coming for what felt like minutes, shaking between the cold metal and his body. Damián kept moving, carrying her to the point of no return, until, with a deep growl, he let go as well. He pulled out at the last second and came over her buttocks and lower back, hot, thick jets sliding down her crack and thighs.

“Ah, fuck… fuck…” he panted, gripping her hip to keep from falling, milking the last remnants from himself with his hand until the final drop landed on her bronzed skin.

He withdrew slowly, letting the cool workshop air envelop their damp skin while Valeria remained motionless across the hood, still trembling, his semen dripping down her back toward the wrinkled dress gathered at her waist. Her breathing was uneven, and every muscle seemed to be processing what had just happened. The cold metal contrasted with the heat of her skin, reminding her how exposed she was, physically and emotionally.

She closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. Damián’s strength, the control he had exerted, the way he had taken her to the limit and beyond. Her body felt heavy, almost foreign, but there was something profoundly liberating in the sensation, as though every barrier she had built over the years had shattered at once.

Without losing his composure, he walked to a nearby table, took one of the rags he used for the tools, and cleaned himself almost mechanically, watching her from the corner of his eye. She remained stretched across the car, her skirt raised around her hips, revealing the marks of his hands and his shining traces across her skin.

Suddenly, Damián returned to her, pulled her up by the arm, and turned her around. He leaned back against the hood, gripped her face with both hands, and tilted her slightly backward. His cock, still hard and still gleaming with juices and semen, swung between them.

“I’m not finished with you,” he said, in a tone that was more warning than declaration. “Now it’s your turn to clean me with that little good-girl mouth.”

Without giving her time to react, he pressed downward until she yielded and dropped to her knees again. He guided her to take him into her mouth. Valeria’s voice escaped in a muffled moan when she tasted the mixture of her own ass and him on her tongue, but she did not pull away. On the contrary, her hands instinctively sought his thighs for support while he set the pace and his fingers tangled in her disordered hair. She began sucking him again, slower now, licking the tip and the length, taking her time to clean him completely.

“That’s it,” Damián growled, watching every expression cross Valeria’s face. “Look at you… the queen of the workshop, on her knees, sucking my cock. Exactly where you belong.”

His words made her open her eyes and meet his fixed gaze. There was something in those dark eyes that kept her trapped, as though he claimed her without needing words. Her tongue drew a slow circle around the crown, then she swallowed him to the base and held him there, letting him feel her throat tighten. Damián groaned, seized her hair, and began moving her head to his rhythm. The cold hood remained at her back while he set the tempo. Yet even then, Valeria knew she was not merely a spectator: in the way she challenged him with her eyes while pleasing him with her mouth, that unbreakable spark remained alive.

At last, he pulled her hair firmly, tilting her head back and withdrawing his cock from her mouth with a wet pop. Their breathing mingled in the workshop’s heavy air as he looked at her with a smile full of satisfaction and unspoken promises. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, wiping away a thread of saliva.

“You’ll be back,” he said, not as a question but as a certainty.

And Valeria, who never accepted a “no,” knew that this time she would not say no either.