Love Takes Your Breath Away

by Caleigh Hernandez

  “You name it and I’ll make it happen. Whatever you need to feel at home while we’re away. And this is only temporary. We will be back, I promise.”

  We’ve stopped at the table where the game board is set up. It reads:

  Diego lightly places his hands on my shoulders. I lean back into his chiseled chest and I am in love and lust. The man knows me better than I know myself.

  Turning around into his waiting arms, I clutch his neck as I leap up and onto him. The man is as solid as marble I couldn’t tip him if I tried. He catches me by my ass, holding me in place as I distribute my weight between his hands and hips.

  Cupping his face, I rub the tips of our noses together, whispering, “Mi santo feo.” My ugly saint. It’s a nickname from his high school days, a play on his last name, and obviously, ironic, because there is nothing ugly about him. “Tu eres mi salvación.” He is my salvation.

  On my first pass, I brush my lips across his supple ones. On the second, I ever so lightly drag my tongue across the part in his mouth. His tongue flicks out at mine, an attempt to take control. It doesn’t work.

  I continue my slow appreciation of his mouth as I deepen the swipe of my tongue on the next pass, before I make my way across, I plunge my tongue into his waiting and eager mouth. He devours my tongue and I clench myself around his rock hard abs, and press my core against the rapidly growing bulge in his shorts.

  The pressure manifests a set of contradicting feelings. There’s this push for more and this pull from feeling too much. My libido set on super sensitive after the emotional build up to this moment. If he gives me his fuck me look, I’ll be putty in his hands.

  He starts to break the connection of our lips, he’s trying to take control.

  I clench him harder and take the kiss deeper. The guttural moan that escapes my gasping mouth snaps something in Diego. We’re on the couch and without breaking the link of our locked lips and dancing tongues, he’s positioned me beneath his delicious body.

  He’s flipping us with a shake of my head no, a silent cue that I have plans other than him taking care of me.

  Now straddling his legs, his muscular thighs pressing against my inner thighs forms an unyielding connection to my core. With every flex, I’m that much closer to my own release. He knows this. He likes to test my ability to stick to the task at hand and resist the temptation to let him own every inch of my body.

  Gah! The man shakes me to the center. I break the seal of our lips and drag myself slowly down his body, grazing my hyperaware and supersensitive clit over his rock hard cock. The sensation has me hesitating to continue with my plan and give in to my selfish, guilty pleasure. I resist the urge and continue my descent. My hands push up his shirt, as I trail my tongue down the center of his rippling abs. I follow with the drag of my nails down his chiseled chest.

  My hands are moving faster than my tongue, I’m eager to free the object of my desire, reaching final destination when his lengthy cock springs free.

  Diego thrusts his pelvis up as I straighten to remove his shorts the rest of the way. I lick my lips at the effect of his action.

  Lowering himself back down to the couch, I take my time admiring the sculpted-by-the-gods specimen of a man. My man. The man that will be screaming my name by the time this sexcapade is done.

  I make a show of removing my tank top, playing with the straps and cups of my bra before I unburden my breasts of this garment, as well. He’s panting now, I inwardly laugh. I love it when I have this effect on him.

  Making my way back to my final destination, I stop a breath away from the tip of his cock. Diego’s breath hitches and I just hover there. Hanging a flick away, Diego bucks and I grab the bobbing head with moistened lips, sucking it in as he descends, the simultaneous actions have an audible effect on Diego.

  Waiting for as long as I can, I hold him just beyond the crest firmly with my lips. Swirling and swiping at the sensitive tip, a primal, guttural moan escapes Diego’s chest. My cue. Instantly, I break the suction I have on the head and plunge the length of him into my wanting and waiting mouth.

  Swallowing around his cock releases a sigh from Diego. I pull up the length of him slowly and making my way back down, gradually increasing the rate of the suck and swallow and adding the pump with my short strokes and twist of the wrists.

  Slowing back down and repeating the oral assault on his cock, Diego’s nearly ready to go off in my mouth. I feel the signature twitch in his cock and take his length down my throat pumping him with the pressure of my tongue on his shaft and the bob of my head.

  “Iiizzzyyy,” erupts from his mouth as he spills his sweet cum down my throat. Swallowing everything he has to give, he skillfully pulls me up to him in a tight embrace.

  Rubbing our noses together, I give him my, Whoops, my bad, look. His body shakes with a barely audible laugh. I curl into him, exhausted from the emotional turbulence the move is causing.

  We lay there until late into the night, watching the sun finish its descent, painting the sky an image reminiscent of Leonid Afremov’s Colors of the Ocean. The colors fading into the night, we talked about the plans for the next week, skirting around the fact that Diego will be leaving a few weeks early to get acquainted with the city and our temporary residence. We’re going house hunting when I get there a few weeks later.

  “Izzy,” questions Diego, shaking me from my partial slumber, “you know I love you, right?”

  “Of course, I do. How much do you love me?”

  “So much, so much.”

  He carried me off to bed; the tide crashing in the background a rhythmic score to the demonstration to just how much Diego loves me. Drawing out every bit of my pleasure with each stroke, push, and pull, I came…crashing with the waves and freefalling into his arms, drifting off to sleep. A lone tear falling from my eye.

  Chapter Six:

  Saying Goodbye

  They say time flies when you’re having fun. After these last few weeks with Diego, making the most of our time before he leaves for England, I feel like time flies when you need it to slow the fuck down.

  I don’t know if it’s because he’s going to be on a different continent or halfway across the world from me, but this feels like, ugghhh…, “Hey, babe.” I put on my brave face and tough this one out. I know I’m being ridiculous. “Don’t you look spiffy,” I tease. “What’s the occasion?” I pretend I don’t remember we have dinner plans, as if being this dolled up myself is normal evening attire. It’s my thing. Ha. Lounging around in silk dresses with sky-high heels.

  “I’m going to fuck you senseless after a nice dinner with Mazzy and Sebastian,” his abruptness catches me off guard; his crassness mindlessly flips a switch. My eyes close and I’m lost in the sensation as his words and the vision they painted fill my mind.

  Diego’s laughter snaps me from the mirage his words slipped me in. Gah! I must be a sight. I let loose a light laugh at the thought of how I looked in my Diego induced haze.

  “I swear, one of these days you’re going to make my panties just disintegrate. Could’ve been tonight” I trail off. “If I were wearing any.”

  With me locked in his broad frame, I feel his right hand sliding down the middle of my back, gathering the flimsy material, clearly performing his investigation of my claim.

  Upon confirmation, Diego releases a hiss. It never gets old, slowly making this man crack. “Izabella Santo, how in the hell am I supposed to concentrate on dinner and our friends with that information in my fucking head?”

  “Well, now,” I say confidently, “looks like we’re in the same boat. Let’s get going my sex god.”

  On a huff, he obliges. Striding past me in his flawlessly untucked eggplant silk dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and showing off his gorgeously tattooed arms, the man is a vision to behold. Whether he’s sweaty and dirty from a game or dressed in a barely-loose fitting dress shirt that looks as if it were stitched by the gods for this god with his black slacks that hug his ass so perfectly,
he is perfection in the flesh.

  There’s no debate that we’ll be taking Diego’s car to meet up with Sebastian and Mazzy. His jet-black custom 1966 Lincoln Continental convertible with suicide back passenger doors was his gift to himself after signing his first contract to play soccer professionally. The classic ride is a throwback, and fuck me, if Diego doesn’t make the machine look sexier when he’s driving it. He’s going to miss the car almost as much as he’ll miss me. Little does he know, I’m arranging to have it shipped to London. I don’t think I could endure not seeing him in this machine for an extended period of time.

  It’s a quick trip to the docks from our place. Mazzy is picking Sebastian up from the airport and the four of us are meeting up at the docks where we still have the yacht dad bought for mom.

  The Fleur de Liz, named after my mother Elizabeth, is decked out with twinkling lights and a small crew to cruise us around San Diego Bay while we spend the evening catching up and saying goodbye.

  Normally, we’d have our staff prepare a dinner, but I’m not one to rob Sebastian of his right to spoil me with yet another one of my favorite dishes: prime rib. Mazzy’s agreed to help him in the kitchen and Diego and I arranged for a wait staff to serve us.

  When the crew pushes off to set sail, Diego and I are watching the shrinking coast from the stern wrapped up in a silent embrace, my back to his front. We take in the picturesque sight before us and relax into each other. I’ll never get over that sense of belonging that occurs when I’m near him, with him. It’s automatic and instinctual.

  We’ve got another hour before the sun sets. The further away we get from the shore the cooler the temperature. A shiver runs through me and shakes me in Diego’s arms. With the chill come unwanted thoughts. Fuck, I’m going to miss him. I feel my mood slipping.

  The sadness is a vice on my heart and with the freefall of my mood; it’s rapidly tightening, making it harder to breath. “Gah,” gasping for air, suddenly deprived of oxygen.

  Diego releases his hold on me as if my sudden breathlessness was a result of him hugging me too tightly. I no quicker get my erratic breathing under control when I’m bawling, a result of seeing the concern in his face.

  Diego swoops me up, cradling me in his arms, mine snake around his neck unconsciously, burying my tear-streaked face in the crook where neck meets shoulder. Sitting us on one of the benches that line the stern of the yacht, he continues to cradle me in his lap. I’m always overwhelmed by his innate desire to protect me. Back when this behavior was “new,” I asked him about it. His simple reply was so matter of fact, “You’re mine. I take care of what’s mine.”

  Looking up at him, “Tell me,” I plead, all my confidence and strength depleted.

  On cue, Diego begins his well-practiced, reminder, “Izzy, you’re mine, and no matter the distance between us, I take care of what’s mine.”

  A choking hug filled with body-shaking sobs is my only response. I love you so much, so much, I infuse this thought into every squeeze of my embrace.

  “I know, Izzy.”

  “I’m gonna miss that,” I manage to mutter out. “You knowing what I’m trying to say with a squeeze.”

  “Bella, it’s a few weeks. You’re going to be so busy with Mazzy, you’re hardly going to notice I’m not here.” The wiggle of his hardening sex, a very real indication that he is in fact right here, right now.

  I pout.

  It’s ridiculous and annoying. I hate myself every second I continue with my lip out like I’m waiting for a bird to perch on it.

  Diego takes the opportunity to grab my bottom lip with his teeth. The slight bite and the tight tug, flip the switch on my mood. Tonight, on this beautiful yacht, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, he’s going to own every inch of my body. A slow-building buzz starts in my fingers and toes.

  The sound of approaching footsteps alludes to the impending interruption and a buzz kill. Ahh ha ha…I amuse myself.

  “Sir, Mr. Sebastian wanted me to inform you that dinner is nearly ready.” It’s one of our servers.

  I untangle my arms and legs from Diego’s hold, making sure not to expose my bare sex as I rise to my feet. The grip he’s taken on my arm tells me he’s thinking the same thing. Leaning into my ear, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your lack of apparel, bella. Just the thought of your bare pussy puts the taste of your sweet juices on my tongue.”

  It’s not a stunned silence, his arousing words hardly stun me anymore. But he’s left me speechless and breathless, and wanting to skip the elaborate dinner and get right to the part where Diego devours every drop of my juices and possesses me, my mind, body, and soul.

  On the 142-foot yacht, it’s a little more than a short walk from the back of the boat to the dining room. Where most would find opulence, mom and dad went for understated elegance and let the size speak for itself. There’s an Arts & Crafts feel to the interior of the super yacht with clean lines and the natural appearance of wood accents and furniture.

  The dining area is exquisite with the handcrafted teak table playing center stage. Set with beautiful light blue linen napkins and sparkling silver utensils, the glow from the candles and the overall lighting make the dressed table twinkle.

  Mazzy’s returning to the room with an unopened bottle of bubbly, handing it to Diego. The routine of this activity evident in there non-verbal communications.

  With a twist and a pop, the champagne is flowing into the crystal flutes on the table. I hear Baz chirping to the wait staff, as they round the corner to where we are.

  “Sit, sit,” he commands.

  This is so Baz. Always commanding and demanding. “All hail the queen,” I mutter. That gets a chortle out of Diego and a sputter of champagne from Mazzy. The appalled expression on Sebastian’s face has me in stitches.

  I’ve managed to take my seat through my fits of laughter without toppling over. Pleased with myself, this was no small feat. Bazzy’s doing his best to hang on to the horrified look, the pull at the corners of his eyes tells me, he thinks I was as clever as I think I was.

  With a roll of his eyes, “Okay, Miss Thang…”

  “Missus," I correct him. "Actually, I prefer you’d not abbreviate my ‘thang’ because there is nothing abbreviated about it," wiggling my eyebrows in Diego's direction. "So, Mrs. Colossal Thang will work for future references.”

  While I’ve gotten a perceptible response from Diego and Mazzy with their chokes and chuckles, Sebastian appears to be getting himself all twisted. “Untwist yourself, Baz. I can see grey hairs growing by the second.”

  There’s a full-blown roar of laughter from Diego and Mazzy joins in, snorting when she can’t catch her breath. That’s all it takes to crack the shell around Bazzy’s good humor. He gives me a light chuckle, and turns in Diego’s direction.

  With a pout, Sebastian asks, “Why can’t Frizzy be the one leaving in a couple of days?”

  “Bazzy, I know I lack the equipment you like, but Diego’s equipment is for the opposite sex only…more specifically, for Izzy only. He’s not going to change his mind now.”

  “Besides, you love me. And I’m far more fun to shop with than Diego.” Sebastian, Mazzy, and I are making a working vacation out of the next few weeks, going to all my favorite haunts and hangouts before I leave it all behind for England. “The boys at the different boutiques and stores just love to fawn all over you when you’re with me…can you say the same if Mr. Colossal Thang were around?”

  The side-to-side bob of his head tells me, Point taken. “True. And the Viper Room will be easier to suffer without the excessive drooling from the baby plastics.” He’s talking about the barely legal socialites that hang around any place someone famous might turn up at. They choose the Viper Room because they are certain to find someone of which mommy and daddy won’t approve. Every time we go with Diego in tow, there is this endless sea of baby plastics and paparazzi.

  Dinner continues in our typical casual manner with bubbly flowing, conversation infinite, a
nd irreplaceable companionship. This is home. Even out in the Pacific, miles from land and actual home, with these three I’m always home.

  I can’t stop the sigh that escapes and draws the attention of the rest of the table.

  “Izzy,” Mazzy starts, “let’s go catch a breather outside.” She knows my thoughts are on the brink of dark, she’s trying to distract me.

  My chair backs up with a slight push off. “When you boys are done, you can join us. Could you have them bring us strawberries and another bottle?” Mazzy says, lifting and shaking the one on the table, demonstrating its emptiness.

  Armed with my glass and a light shawl, we make our way to the patio area that is the bow. Mazzy’s got her hand laced in my empty one. “You okay, Izzy?” she’s already starting and we haven’t even gotten ourselves comfortable outside.

  “Oh, Mazzy…it’s the same ol’, same ol’.” Really, it is. There’s nothing new. I’m going to miss them terribly.

  Sure, Mazzy and I will talk every day, sometimes several times a day, but it won’t be the same. The fact that she’s remained silent tells me she’s waiting for me to continue. “I’m scared, Maz. I’m scared that I’m going to miss you so much that it’s going to hurt. I’m scared that Diego will get so busy, I’ll get lost in this new city, new country…all alone.

  “And then I hear myself say these ridiculous things out loud, and I want to stab this whiny version of me. Ugh!

  “I’ve got this. I know that. There’s so much I’m excited about, but not having you there will be hard.”

  “Iz,” she says, reaching around my shoulders for a sideways hug. “I’ll be out there visiting before you know it, and besides we’ve got a few weeks to live it up before you leave my ass. We’ll paint the town Izzy and Mazzy.”

  ”I’ll be so empty,” I jumble my thoughts in my drunken stupor. “I mean—.”

  “Izabella shut your mouth before Diego comes out and takes it as an invitation to free his ‘colossal thang’.”

  And that’s all it takes. The two of us are practically rolling on the deck, snorting and laughing in very unladylike fashions. “Maybe I want him to free his colossal thang,” I retort.