Page 89 of Sombra
“What are you doing, Tavo?”
“Enjoying the view.” My finger follows along her jawline, and shelifts up her chin.
Her plump lips curl into a pretty, but knowing smile. “What are we going to do next?” She scans the room, casting about for my next move—which gives me the idea. I find the blindfold we bought the other night and place it over her eyes with care. She lies so still as I do it, but I can feel her excitement in my bloodstream.
“Is this comfortable over your eyes?”
“Yes.”
And again, I’m taking in her body—the fact that she’s so wet I can smell it. That she’s so gorgeous, and she’s really in my bed. That she’s as open to play as anyone I’ve ever met.
That she’s mine.
My heart swells. Other parts do, too—impossibly. “Before I find the ribbons, lie on your front,” I say.
She turns over, letting me see her bubble butt, her nipped-inwaist, her side-boob. I take a bottle of olive oil, last year’s still-green vintage, and rub some between my hands, then begin to give her a full-body massage. My hands are scratchy, I know, but the oil smooths it over, and I monitor the pressure. Not too much. Not too little. I listen to her body with mine. After I make my way down her arms and back and along her legs, I slip my hands betweenthem.
And rub. I play with her clitoris, watching the way her hips move, the way she tilts into my hand. It’s bare and soft and lubed and quivering. I’m feeling the heat, the pressure, the changes as she gets more and more engorged with blood. More and more turned on. Like my guitar, I strum her body, bringing out the music, creating something new.
“Do you like ithere?” I ask, circlingher clit, dripping oil along her ass.
“Yes.”
“How abouthere?” I’m still circling her with my thumb, but now I also insert my middle finger and massage against that rough spot inside that makes her hum.
“Yes.”
And with my other hand, I take my thumb coated in olive oil and press into her ass, making her moan. “And this?” My voice is now a husky growl.
“Fuck.Yes, Tavo, don’t stop.” I move in and out, gently massaging her everywhere.
She’s hot and wet and so tight around my fingers. I’m watching her body get closer and closer. The subtle ways her voice changes and her body tenses, as she puts all her attention on getting that orgasm. It’s so near.
Then I stop and pull away my hands.
“Why? Tavo! No!” she wails. “I was so close.”
“I could tell. It’s better if you wait.”
Her lower lip juts out in a pout below the blindfold. “No, it isn’t. It’s better if you give me onenow.”
“I intend to give you the best, the most fantastic orgasm you’ve ever experienced.”
The shiver that takes over her could be seen from the roof. “Are you speaking in English or in Spanish?”
I’m not following. I holdher hip, marking her curve with my thumb, because I can’t stop touching her even though I’m trying. “English, of course. What do you mean?”
“Well, would Professor Diego tell you that in English ‘the best, the most fantastic’ means, ‘not bad’?”
Oh. “No. In English it means, ‘holy shit.’”
Her laughter peals, and then she shivers again. “Okay.” Her voice is hushed, but exhilarated.
“Are you cold, amor?”
“No. I’m just loving the wait. And hating it.”
I walk away from the bed and sit at my desk at my computer and wiggle the mouse.
