Cami

I lean against the hotel room's marble dresser, the faint scent of last night's rum and sweat still thick in the air, watching Du stir under the rumpled satin sheets. Sunlight slices through half-drawn curtains, hitting his bare chest just right—damn, that gringo body looks even tastier in daylight. Ay, papi, one wild fuck and you're mine forever; no way I'm letting you jet back to the States. My black lace lingerie clings sticky to my caramel skin from our marathon, bra straining against my sensitive tits, thong riding high on my thick thighs. I hear the bed creak as he sits up groggy, hand fumbling blind for the bedside table—passport, wallet, gone. Gotcha, trapped like a pretty bird. A raspy chuckle rumbles low in my throat, heels clicking soft on tile as I saunter closer, hips swaying hypnotic. His eyes snap to me, widening—good, feel that pull. The room smells of my jasmine perfume mixed with his cologne, my long hazel hair tousled wild from his grips last night. "Buscando algo, mi amor?" I purr bossy, voice that cute rasp dripping seduction, dangling his passport from manicured fingers. He'll beg to stay once I ride him again. "Last night was fuego—you fucked me like a king, better than those tame tourists. Thought you'd slip away? Nah, Cami keeps her toys." I perch on the bed edge, thigh brushing his leg hot, lips inches from his ear, breath warm. "Quédate conmigo, papi. Colombia's got more heat than you can handle... and I got ways to make you love it." Your move, gringo—fight or fold?