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My head is on a swivel, nodding and shaking, me humming and ah’ing at every sentence.
“So, what’s it to be?” She looks me square in the face, no hint of centuries of euphemism and nudge-nudge-wink-wink—just a woman who knows her trade. “Who are we buying for? Him or her?”
“Oh, him! Definitely. I want to buy for him.” I want Mariano to feel everything when he’s inside me. I’m already on fire. He could be wearing an Aran sweater, three pairs of woolen pants, and ten coats and I’d still be thrumming through my entire frame at the same frequency as I am now.Him, him, him.
“Excellent. Well, I’m going to send you with a few different options, so you can see what he prefers. We’re not going to bother with color or flavor. Not when it’s this early in the game.” She rests her hand on my arm. “The fact that you have nothing to say, my dear, speaks volumes. Once you know more about him, you can come to me and talk. Have no fear, I never repeat what I hear. Your secrets are safe with me. I don’t care if you’re tied up, tied down, or screwing each other until the cows come home. As long as it’s consensual and you’re happy, I’m happy.” She selects five condoms and pops them in my basket. “That one has plenty of girth. And the Twist, which I thoroughly recommend, allows for more vigorous intercourse, if that’s in the cards.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Chadwick.” For all my blushing, I’m grateful that she’s been so un-English about the whole conversation. She could have made this an ordeal, but she’s made it a delight instead. As we exit the aisle, we both come to a stop.
Mariano. Right there. Smiling.
“I…” I can’t find the words. He listened to that whole spiel.
“Well!” Mrs. Chadwick’s head whips between us, a smile—kind, not sly—on her lips. “Seems you must have come in when the last customer went out.”
He takes the condoms from my basket and replaces them with the ribbed variety. “For her.”
How do I tell him that the condom doesn’t matter? If he’s there, the sensation will send me past the moon, the stars—all the way into the very heart of the sun.
Mrs. Chadwick adds a second and a third. “Just in case.” Then a fourth. “We’re closed, tomorrow. Don’t want you to be running out.”
Mariano takes my basket to the counter and pays, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Tuck those back in.” Mrs. Chadwick points at his pocket. Good grief, my panties! Hanging out of his left trouser pocket! My blush competes with my laugh, and I grab another handful of Twists and throw them at the counter. It’s happening. After all this time, it’s really, really happening.
EYES ON THE PRIZE
Mariano Arias. On the road to the old wishing well. Upper Wilmington, Gloucestershire, England.
After some nonsense with the car—racing back to the barn so that it looks as though I did what I said I was going to do—we’re finally both in the Jaguar. Lolly’s hand is on my thigh and my foot jams down on the gas pedal. The beast of a car shoots forward, my eagerness made visible in yet another way.
“You know where we’re going?” Lolly’s voice is low, husky in a way I’ve never heard before. Her hand slides up my leg, and for a moment I am not sure whether her question is about the route I am driving or what it is we are about to do.
“The old wishing well? I do not—” It’s an effort to keep my eyes on the road and the car in its lane, but focus is a skill I have honed.
“Take the first exit off the roundabout.”
She leans forward, undoing her boot laces; all the while, her hand on me does not move. Her boots drop to the floorboard with two heavy thuds and I can hardly keep my eyes forward as she lifts a leg to rest her foot on the edge of her seat. With her free hand, she rolls down her brightly patterned sock, then lifts the other leg in a sensuous slide of thighs to toe the sock off, a tantalizing tease. Not until her feet are bare and I’ve made it through the turn does she find the place that most hungers for her touch. Even through the fabric of my trousers, she makes me burn. At my hissing inhale, Lolly’s smile goes wicked in my peripheral vision. “You like that? I want to do what you like. The way you did for me.”
There’s no one ahead of us, no one behind. Just a long straight road, thick hedges on either side, and green fields beyond. If I could close my eyes and savor the way she strokes me, I would. If there were any room to pull the car off the road and onto the shoulder, I would. But there isn’t. Not if I’m going to take Lolly where she wants to go. I must keep my mind, my eyes, my will—ahhh,dios—on the road.
She grinds the heel of her hand over my groin, not too hard, but hard enough that I know she knows what she’s doing, then trails her nails around the outline of my cock.
“How far is it? To the wishing well?” I give the car more gas, my back involuntarily arching towards her. If she continues, I won’t make it. Well, I will, but in her hands and in the car and too, too soon. I’d rather be facing her, seeing her, watching her while she jacks me off than—ah, shit, that’s, ah, how? How can she know to do that?—watching the road, dammit.
“Just long enough.” Lolly laughs. That laugh. Her fingers find my belt buckle, jerking it loose as she digs her teeth into my shoulder. She pulls at my fly, lowering the zipper inch by inch, punctuating the move with bites and kisses, and my knuckles go white against the black leather of the steering wheel, each tug and release sending a pulse of need through me.
“Ah. Lolly.” I want her both to stop and never stop. I want to keep this car on the road and get us to the wishing well, and I want to slam on the brakes in the middle of the road and let her have her way.
“Say my name again.” Her voice drops to a whisper; her eyes are pinned to the road; only the thin fabric of my boxers remains between her skin and mine.
The moment the first ‘L’ escapes my lips, her hand is on me, cool against my heat. The rest of what I utter is more sounds than name as she works myerecciónfree at the same instant she undoes her seat belt.
“Promise you’ll get us there in one piece?”
There is the road stretching empty before us, there is the slide of skin against skin, and I make my vow. “Siempre. Always.”
She slips her hand into her bag and pulls out a condom. The wrapper is off before I have time to thank her, and she has the rubber in her lips, the nib facing out.
