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I kiss her mouth again, Antonella screams with her lips glued to mine, and my tongue licks everything it reaches, her chin, jaw, open lips, making a delicious mess.
“Marcos!” cries my name one last time as I come, pulling my orgasm with her drunken voice.My whole body chills when the first fucking jet makes its way, flooding Antonella’s pussy and, fuck! I keep fucking until there’s not a drop of it that isn’t exactly where it should be, in the hot, tight, mine, all mine pussy!
We come with open eyes, immersed in each other, and if I still had any doubts, it is completely exterminated during the seconds when the whole world falls apart, except for my bond with Antonella.
Between panting chests and racing hearts, we breathe the same air, confuse our tastes and saliva, and our gazes unfold in a procession of shouted statements amidst the silence.Scandalous eyes are staring mine and they tell me so many, many things, among them, that there are many others that are not being said.
It’s a moment of intimacy like I never thought I could share with anyone, and the fact that I’m completely buried in Antonella has nothing to do with it.This something way beyond passion.I love this woman.How is that possible?How can I just realize this now that I have reached the point where there is simply no turning back?At the point where I’m ready to open my mouth and scream this from the rooftops?
Especially since Antonella’s eyes are also screaming.Here, in the middle of the ocean, when there’s nothing but the two of us, in mute screams they tell me she loves me too.That somehow, at some point, this happened, and the two of us, foolish and arrogant in our own certainties, were not able to understand, to try and fucking stop it!I’ve never been so grateful for my own stupidity.
However, despite all the unspoken but so clearly understood words, unlike her eyes, Antonella’s lips do not move.They remain sealed, resolute in not letting any word pass by them.I place my forehead on hers and let my gaze deliver thirteen words to her before kissing her mouth: we have plenty of time. We have all the time in the world.
In the living room, I walk back and forth without being able to control my own body.I look at the clock and take a deep breath for the thousandth time since I woke up, being knocked down from the dream that was the weekend to the unavoidable reality of needing to tell Marcos the truth.
God!It wasn’t supposed to be that hard!But one moment after another, it never felt right.It never seemed like a good idea to give up the now for something that happened in the past and that will directly impact the future, and I said tomorrow.Tomorrow’s going to be a good idea.So on Saturday morning, I’m woken up by a bouncy Isabella, literally.
First, I got a huge scare, then I convinced myself that I was still dreaming.When I realized that no, it could not be a dream because the child on top of me was made of flesh, bone and a lot of chatter, I considered the possibility of having gone crazy.I was sure I’d slept on the sailboat, Isabella couldn’t be throwing herself at me, right?
Wrong.Because while I was sleeping, Marcos thought it would be an excellent idea to take Isabella to Guarujá for her to embark with us on a family weekend. And it was. It was an amazing, wonderful idea, but one that served as the perfect excuse for my cowardness.
But no later than today. It can’t be postponed. I look again at the clock, wishing that the last fifteen seconds had passed four hours, yet it is still two o’clock in the afternoon exactly as it was the last time I checked.
I blow air through my mouth and run my hands through my hair without ever stopping to walk from side to side.It’s possible that I won’t be able to tell Marcos anything when he finally gets home, because I’ll have made a hole in the ground, plummeted twenty-three floors, through ceilings and walls and dropped dead.
My whole body reacts to my despair.My skin is sensitive, my mouth is dry, my hands are sweaty and even my vision seems out of the usual today.Two in the afternoon.It’s still a long way before six o’clock tonight.Thank God Isabella had a full-day activity with the ballet class today.I don’t know if I would be able to hide my agony from anyone, let alone my daughter.
The intercom rings and an icy current runs through my entire body at the same time my stomach tightens.Fuck!I walk toward it hurriedly and eager for no reason related to whoever is on the other side.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Valente?”
“It’s me, Benicio!”
“You have a visitor.”
The heavy traffic of São Paulo does nothing for my anxiety.I working much earlier than usual for the third time in less than fifteen days and screw that.Now I really understand what João Pedro meant.
I had no intention of leaving the office at two o’clock on a Monday afternoon.But it wouldn’t do any good to stay there if my head was at home in Antonella and the goddamn question that didn’t give me peace all weekend.Why, after all that was said with words and silence, did she keep pretending that there was nothing between us in front of Isabella?
I can understand her difficulty to declare, out loud, her own feelings, because, fuck!I can barely understand how I can be so willing to do that.Whatever stops her, I don’t judge.We have a lot of time ahead of us.But I can’t understand why we would need to keep this useless game in front of the child.
On Saturday, I woke up before Antonella and decided to make some breakfast.As I sneaked out of the room to go to the kitchen, Isabella filled my thoughts.I missed her and realized that ever since we got back from our honeymoon, I had never been away from the child.I laughed at myself as I realized how much I had been domesticated and how happy I was with it.
It wasn’t hard to make the decision to bring Isabella to us.In fact, I liked the prospect of being able to introduce our relationship in an environment where that wouldn’t be the focus, after all, I was sure that being at sea would sharpen the girl’s uncontrollable curiosity.My wife made it a lot easier by sleeping late.So, there was enough time for all the logistics and still surprise her.
However, while the days aboard Molly were amazing, they were not as I imagined.After being awakened by a very excited child, Antonella left the room bringing with her the distance that always imposed between us when Isabella was around.At first, I thought I might be imagining it, but when I tried to kiss her and Antonella turned her face, it was very difficult to tell myself that I was wrong.
The kiss was just the first thing I was denied.There were no touches or another night slept side by side.I slept in one room and Antonella in another, with Isabella.It wasn’t our best moment, but I wasn’t upset either.After all, I had made a decision without talking to Antonella before.She had the right not to agree, and I wouldn’t care about that.We’d talk when we got home.
But yesterday, when we arrived, Antonella hit the sack just after putting Isabella to sleep and I settled for having her body nestled in mine again, anxious, after just one night away, like the damn junkie I’ve become.I slept wondering what might be holding her back, woke up with the same question in my head, and had no peace during the morning or early afternoon until I simply gave up.Whatever it is, we can work it out, I just need Antonella to talk.
I pass through the entrance of the building and greet Benício.The concierge is, as always, solicitous, and I get into the elevator, because today is one of those rare occasions when he is already waiting for me.
I take my phone out of my pocket, checking the messages as I go up the floors to the penthouse and when it rings, warning of the arrival at my destination, I leave it without even raising my eyes.On autopilot, I leave the briefcase on the sideboard of the entrance hall and continue the walk towards the kitchen, where I imagine Antonella is at this hour.
“Good afternoon.” I interrupt my steps when I am greeted by a male voice and raise my eyes to find Antonella, standing, white as a paper, and a tall blond man standing right behind her.What the fuck is going on?I frown at the at least intriguing scene.
