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“Hold on to my neck.”
Without hesitation, I do as he says. He grabs one of the steps above me; then he buries himself completely in me, and I scream.
My Iceman makes me his as I make him mine. We gasp and pant. We belong to each other.
He rams into me over and over until he hears the cry that lets him know I’ve come, and he lets himself go in one final and powerful drive inside me.
For a few seconds, the two of us stay like that, up against the ladder, pressed together, and then he lets go and picks me up, and we go back to the chair. When he sits down, still inside me, he kisses me.
“I’m still mad at you,” he assures me.
That makes me laugh. “Good!”
“Good?” he asks, surprised.
I kiss him. I wink at him.
“Mmm. Your anger just means we’ll be having an interesting night ahead of us.”
21
Three days later, a pickup truck comes from the airport with the things from my small Madrid apartment.
Only twenty boxes, but I’m ecstatic. The rest is still back home, because you never know.
Having my things is very important, and I spend several days distributing them throughout the house. Eric and I are good. After that splendorous night of sex we had the day we argued, we can’t stop kissing. I surprised him. I tempted him and drove him crazy. As soon as we see each other, we want to touch. Whenever we’re alone, we disrobe with an intense passion.
The phone rings one morning. Simona picks it up. It’s my father.
“Papá!” I exclaim, so happy to hear from him.
“Hello, sweetheart! How are you?”
“Good, but missing you so much.”
We talk for a little while, and I tell him about the problem I’m having with Flyn.
“Be patient, sweetheart,” he says. “That boy needs patience and human warmth. Watch him and try to surprise him. I’m sure once you surprise him, he will adore you.”
“The only way to surprise him is by leaving, believe me, Papá. This boy is ...”
“A boy, sweetheart. He’s a nine-year-old boy.”
I sigh.
“Papá, Flyn is a premature old man. He’s nothing like our Luz. He complains about everything. He hates me. I’m like a pimple on a butt to him. You should see how he looks at me.”
“Sweetheart ... that little boy, considering how young he is, has suffered a great deal. He’s lost his mother, and even though his uncle takes care of him, I’m sure he feels lost.”
“I agree with you. I try to get close to him, but he doesn’t let me. The only time he seems happy is when he’s playing Wii or PlayStation, alone or with his uncle.”
My father laughs.
“That’s because he doesn’t know you yet. I’m sure as soon as he gets to know my sweetheart, he won’t be able to live without you.”
When I hang up, I feel better. My father is the best. There’s no one like him to help with my self-esteem and encourage me in every way.
It’s Sunday, and Eric suggests I go with him to the shooting range. Flyn and I both go. He introduces me to all his friends.