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“Yes.” His fingers crawl along my torso until they reach the hem of my bathing suit. “You want to?” The bulge in his bathing suit presses against me.
“Yes and no. What if we get caught?” I ask, looking around to see if there is anybody watching. As my eyes wander, the water around is quiet and the closest people are along the shoreline, and they’re tiny from this distance.
“We alone over here, and it no look any different than we are right now,apretaditos.” What he’s saying does make sense, I mean we are tightly embraced, the only difference is he would be inside of me. I may regret this but right now I’m burning from the inside out and I feel like pushing the envelope for once. When I’m with Amaury, I find myself wanting and doing things that aren’t typical for me and I’m tired of being a rule follower. I want to start coloring outside the lines.
I reach down inside of his briefs in search of him. With my hand grasped firmly around his hardness, I slide my bathing suit bottom over with my other hand and slip him inside of me, letting him feel me. Amaury’s head drops back as he eases himself inside of me, hissing as he does. His grip at my waist tightens as he glides in and out of me.
“Amaury,” I mumble, the sensation of his gentle thrusts spreading throughout my body.
“Dime muñeca,” he responds, his eyes blazing with lust and love.
“I love you too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Amaury
Sol finally said the words I’ve been craving to hear. After telling her I loved her last week I’ve been trying to find the right moment to discuss it, discuss her feelings and what’s going on with her but she’s been avoiding me. I’m not usually one to shy away from conversations but with Sol I have to tread lightly. I want it to be on her terms. I’m glad I waited, even if it seemed like an eternity.
We’re sprawled across my tattered beach sheet, the faded oranges and yellows nearly blending with the off-white color of the fabric. The worn material is soft against my salty skin as we soak up the last rays of the sun and enjoy the tranquility of the beach at this time of day. A few stragglers remain as dusk approaches, the pink and orange sky stretching for miles.
Sol’s nose and cheeks are red, burned from too much sun. I didn’t see her put any sunscreen on when we got here. “You no wearcrema de soltoday?” I ask her.
“No, why? Do I have a sunburn?” she asks.
Nodding, I say, “Your cheeks are very red.”
“Really? I didn’t think I needed sunscreen since we got here in the late afternoon.” She pats her fingers across her cheeks and nose.
“En Miamithe sun is too strong. You always needcrema de sol,muñeca.” The sand between my feet is warm and I drag my foot back and forth, slowly digging.
“I think I have aloe at my apartment, I’ll put some on when I get home.”
“This is my favorite time of day,” Sol says, stretching her legs. I’m drawing circles on her upper right thigh as I lean on my left elbow to face her.
“¿Sí, por qué?” I ask.
“The colors of the sky and the clouds. Resembles cotton candy. Sunsets, when you can see them, are beautiful to watch. Makes me feel so small in the grand scheme of life yet it’s such a peaceful transition to experience.”
“For peaceful you should try the sunrise,es mucho mejor.” I trace the red swirl pattern on her bathing suit.
“But it’s so early. You have to get out of bed while it’s still dark. Eww.” She giggles. I reach for her, brush a few grains of sand off her forehead.
The sand at the beach in Miami is so different than the beaches I went to growing up. Here it’s thick with a palish taupe color and coarse grain. But in Cuba the white sand stretches for miles and is similar to a soft talcum powder.
“It’s my favorite. I run every morning on the sand and watch the sun as a new day starts.”
“Why is it your favorite?” she asks me.
“I get up early every day, ever since I was a boy. It’s a fresh start and it’s peaceful. I can think a lot about how I want my day to go as I run. Also, I like listening tolos pajaritos.”
“The chirping birds? Yeah, they wake me up most mornings and I usually get annoyed.” She chuckles. I love seeing her so relaxed, her dark curls loose and spread out around her like a crown. Her eyes are soft, and her skin is covered in sand. Her post orgasmic haze still lingers, and I would make love to her again right now, but even I must acknowledge that although there’s only a few people here, it’s still too many.
“That’s a good ritual to have. The only ritual I have to start my day is drinking a good cup of coffee.” She purses her lips.
“Y ahorait’scafecitoyou drink.”
She nods in agreement. “Yup. I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on Cuban coffee all these years.” When I first met Sol she drank coffee brewed in a drip coffee machine. But as she drank morecafecito, she bought aBialettiMoka Express and had me teach her how to make Cuban coffee. She told me since she’s learned she barely drinks drip coffee anymore, which makes sense to me. Nothing tastes better thanuncafecito cubano.
