Love, in English

His tongue lapped and teased at my nipples as one hand squeezed and kneaded my breasts, the other hand back behind my neck, holding me in place. I didn’t know it was possible for me to almost come from nipple stimulation, but I was gasping and moaning until his hand went down to my clit and his lips came up to mine. Our kiss built with the pace of his thrusts, slow at first, then faster, wetter, frenzied.

When I was almost pushed over the edge, my hands gripping his ass so tight, driving him in deeper, my heels digging into the sweaty small of his back, he groaned into my mouth and pulled away until he was staring at me. There was a heady kind of madness in their depth, like the lust was driving him insane.

“In Spain, we both fuck and make love at the same time,” he grunted. “You need to look at me, Vera. You need to stay co

That was something else new to me. I didn’t make a lot of eye contact during sex. It made it too intimate, too…meaningful. I never wanted any of that—until now.

I swallowed, finding my breath, and let him stare right into my eyes. After a while though, I started really staring back at him. I returned the intimacy he was giving me, looking deeper and deeper until I thought I saw the universe, our universe, being created. I was so turned on and in so deep that I could have been on drugs.

The image of our lovemaking burned into my brain. The blue blue sky behind his head, his dark hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, the golden grass laid out at our sides, my inked skin beneath his rich bronze, the sunshine washing us in its heat.

I’ll never forget this, I told myself. Never.

And that’s when it started to hit me. The combination of the mounting orgasm, the beautiful pleasure that Mateo was gifting me, the intensity and intimacy of our locked gaze. All of it began to smash into my heart, smash into my soul, letting my feelings for him flow out. I felt flooded with love, big, burning, bright love, filled to the brim and ready to burst out of me, to erode those walls that I’d put up and ensure they’d never go back up again.

Seconds later, I came and came hard. My orgasm ripped through me, shockwaves and tremors and ripples that satiated every crevice of my body. I cried his name in release, my voice drifting into the air. The flood took over and tears began to fall out of my eyes as they rolled back, staring at the sky, at the day moon that was hanging in the still blue.

“Estrella,” Mateo whispered huskily as he kept pounding me, driving himself to completion. “My Estrella.”

I recovered enough to tilt my head and look at him as he came. His eyes, too, were wet and shiny, a look of shock and wonder on his handsome face until his lips curled in a groan, his face contorted with the agony of pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut to keep all the senses in. He cried out, low and primal. His body slowed the push and pull into me and I held him tighter between my legs.

Eventually, he collapsed onto his elbows, his sweaty chest pressing against mine, his fingers nestled in the hair at my temples. His thumbs caressed my cheekbones, wiping away the tears I didn’t know were still there. Our eyes were fixed to one another’s, addicted to the view of seeing each other so clearly.

He smiled softly and let out a small laugh of disbelief. He ran a finger all over my face, tracing my features as if he was memorizing me for a sculpture. He stopped at my lips and then kissed them, passion still burning between us.

“Now that is a real siesta,” he said quietly, as if we weren’t all alone in that field.

I giggled and gri

A cloud moved past the sun and then it was bright again.

His smile turned sad and he sighed. “I can’t let you leave, Vera.”

All of a sudden his weight felt like the weight of the world, of our world, was on me. “I don’t think we can lie here forever. I have a session with Frog—I mean, Juan Carlos.”

He brushed his fingers down my cheek, so softly they felt like butterfly wings. “I can’t let you leave Spain. I can’t…I can’t let you leave me.” He took in a deep breath and swallowed thickly, his lips pressed hard together.

My heart felt like it was being crushed. “I wish I could stay…”

“Then stay,” he said. “Find a way.”

I gave him a quizzical look. “That is impossible.”

“You keep saying we are impossible,” he said. “But you don’t have enough faith. You have faith in the stars, but not in us.”

“But we are impossible. You’re…goddamn it, I don’t even want to say it anymore.”

“I’m married, I know this. But—”

“No,” I cried out softly, my hands curling into fists. “I don’t even want to talk about it. It is killing me, Mateo. I can’t even entertain the idea because nothing will come of it. I can’t stay here. I have no money. I’m not allowed to stay in your country for as long as I want. I have to go home. You have to go back to your family. To your daughter. To your wife. To your universe.”

He frowned, confused. “I told you I was creating a new one. And I want you in it. To be the center.”

There was so much conviction in his eyes, so much belief in his own words, that it sliced me thin like paper cuts.

“What do you propose we do?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice cracking with desperation. “I don’t. But…you could stay and then we could figure something out.”

“Mateo,” I said slowly, feeling so scared and hopeless. I didn’t want to leave him but I couldn’t imagine being his mistress either. How did everything get even more complicated than it was before? Hadn’t Mateo said that the good relationships were uncomplicated? We were certainly fucked in that aspect, too.

But Mateo was passion. He was now full of the life we both sought after all these years.

He placed his forehead against mine, nose against nose, and closed his eyes. “You bring light to my life. When you leave, there will only be a black hole inside of me. You’ll take my heart with you.” His breath deepened and he looked into my eyes. “Vera, I am in love with you.”

Now I felt like I was drifting in space. I couldn’t do anything but float on his words.

He brushed my hair off my face. “I love you.” He then kissed my forehead, long and warm and sweet. I wanted to overdose on this moment as my chest grew wings.

But I couldn’t. I found my breath again, my voice. “You can’t,” I croaked. “You don’t know me.”

He smiled. “I know you.”

“There hasn’t been enough time.”

“I don’t care about time,” he said confidently. “When I know something, I know it. Now I know what love is. And I love you. And I ca

“And now we both have to let it go,” I told him with as much conviction as I could muster, even though I was breaking my own heart for saying so.

His expression was pained and I was overwhelmed by how unfair this was. Why couldn’t he have been single? Why couldn’t I have been older, or he younger, or why couldn’t I have met him in another point in time? It could have been so damn good.

It was so damn good.

I closed my eyes and felt the tears coming again.

“Hush,” he said softly. “Don’t cry or I will cry.”

I tried not to. I tried to hold it in. But a month’s worth of second-guessing and anguish had built up. The floodwaters had risen again. I began to bawl. Mateo rolled off of me and then wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. His kissed my head then rested his chin on top of it so I was free to sob into his neck and chest.