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“I saw you with Amanda at your hotel, and I decided to go on with my life. I went looking for Fernando, masturbated for him, and then gave myself to him.”
Eric is furious. I’m afraid he’s going to leave, but then I realize he’s also afraid I’ll disappear. He takes my hips and begins to fuck me with an infernal rhythm.
“You’re mine, and only who I say gets to touch you.”
He stares, waiting for my reaction while, barely holding on, I move under him. I’m well aware of what he’s asking me. I put my hand against his stomach and push off. His penis drops from inside me.
“The only way I’m yours is if you’re mine and only who I say gets to touch you.”
His response is immediate. He comes close and kisses me while his rock-hard penis bounces between my thighs, making me crazy. I reach down and guide it back home inside me.
With his mouth on mine, Eric says, “I’m yours, sweetness ... yours.”
Eric pushes inside me carefully, and I have to raise my hips to get my fill. He moves his hips from side to side, and I feel how my muscles cling to him.
“Love ... I’m going to come.”
The tone of his voice. His face. His eyes. They all make me hot.
“Faster, sweetheart ... I need it.”
Eric slams into me once ... twice ... three times. He bites his lip and gives me what I want, and then we both arch our bodies and know we’ve reached the same magical moment together.
51
This Saturday, sex, kisses, and caresses reign over all. Every time we try to talk about our relationship, we end up naked and panting wildly. Eric is my addiction, and I realize I’m his. We can’t be together without touching, and since we want each other, we just let ourselves go and give in to our unfettered lust. Sunday, it’s more of the same.
But then, as we’re both making the bed, Eric says, “Jude ... I need to talk to you, remember?”
“Yes.”
I’m really scared of whatever it is he feels he needs to clarify.
“It’s important; I owe you this explanation.”
“You owe it to me?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes, love ...”
His gaze is unsettled again. He’s having a hard time looking me in the eye, and that bothers me. Eric sits beside me at the foot of the bed.
“Listen, there’s something you need to know and which I haven’t shared with you yet. But I want you to know that if I haven’t told you, it’s because ...”
“Oh Lord, you’re not married, are you?”
“No.”
“Are you marrying Betta? Marta?”
“No, love,” he says, surprised by my questions and the panic in my voice. “It’s nothing like that.”
I sigh, relieved. I wouldn’t have been able to take news like that.
“Who are they?”
Seeming resigned, Eric lets out a long breath.
“Betta is the woman with whom I shared my life for two years and with whom I ended it a while back,” he says. “Our relationship died the day I found her in bed with my father. That day, I severed ties with both of them. I hope that, without my having to get into it more than this, you’ll understand why I never want to talk about my marvelous father ever again.”