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When he’s no longer kissing my mouth, his lips are dragging along my neck, over my breasts, along the skin he’s exposed by lifting my dress, until he pulls the elastic of my underwear between his teeth. Amaury drops to his knees before me, and I adjust myself by leaning on my elbows. I’m about to lift myself to remove my underwear when he tears them off and tosses them to the side. His teeth nip at the inside of my thighs, the stubble growing on his face grates my skin and I squirm under his touch. As he explores, I tangle my fingers in his thick, silky mane.
His tongue makes circles as it approaches my apex and my heart races. Amaury is sucking, swirling, and licking. His fingers and tongue at odds with each other, both with the same goal. A moan slips from me and I pull at his locks in rhythm with him.
“Well, that’s a nice greeting. Did you miss me?” I tease. I’m lying on my bed, engulfed in a passionate haze.
“I always miss you,muñeca.” He gives me a lopsided grin.
“A girl can get used to greetings like that.”
“I give you that every day,si me dejas,” he exclaims before climbing onto the bed. His mouth is glistening but before I can say anything, his lips are on mine. I squirm away to separate myself from him.
“Yuck!”
“Queyuckniyuck,” he responds. “I love how you taste.” His emerald gaze is intense as a smirk spreads across his beautiful face.
I find his t-shirt and throw it on, followed by a fresh pair of underwear and head toward the kitchen. “Let’s eat, I’m starving,” I say on my way out.
We’re at the kitchen counter eating sushi and the look on Amaury’s face tells me he’s not into it. “You like it?”
He shrugs. “No se. It’s new to me. I like seafood but never ate it like this. It’s not bad.” He pops another roll into his mouth, eating with his hands because he was frustrated with trying to use chopsticks. “I like the fried one best.”
“Of course you do, everything tastes better fried.” I chuckle.
“How was your day,muñeca?”
I lift my shoulder. “It was fine. Nothing exciting,” I respond, averting his gaze in search of my next piece of sushi but I can feel his eyes on me.
Following.
Watching.
Analyzing.
“I no believe you,” he blurts out. I’m transparent, I know I am. I’ve always been a terrible liar.
“Okay, but my answer isn’t gonna change. It was just another day,” I quip, and take a sip of wine.
“Bueno, if you say so.” His hand stretches across the counter and our fingers interlock. Our eyes contemplating one another.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Just another day,” he says, then he gives me a fake smile, showing me all of his teeth.
“Ha, ha.” I smack his arm.
“You no wanna talk today?”
“I’m talking.”
“Sí, you talking but you no telling me anything.” He dips a dragon roll into the soy sauce and takes a bite.
I purse my lips and shift in my seat. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your father.” My heart sinks. I knew this question would eventually come but I wasn’t expecting it today. It’s either talk about my father or talk about Carmine. My father is the easier of the two so father it is. Before I respond, I reach for the bottle of wine, pour, and pull from my glass.
“There isn’t much to tell.” I shrug, and sip from my wine glass again. “He left when I was five. I still remember the day he left. He was wearing a pale-yellow shirt, dark blue jeans, and black shoes. I watched him walk out the front door to his red car and never look back while I screamed for him. My mother held me and wouldn’t let me run outside. It was the last time I saw him. He left me, left my mother, and disappeared.”
I sip my wine again trying to calm the nerves fluttering in my belly, which appear each time the topic of my father comes up. It’s been years and as much as I want to believe I’m over it, I’m not. I’m hurt he left me and wanted no part in my life. I’m hurt my mother refuses to discuss him with me. It’s a permanent thorn in my side.
