“What?” I was breathing heavily, my hands still on her hips.
“Look,” she said. To my delight, her long, thin fingers had found their way down her body onto her inner thighs, dangerously adjacent to sweet lips that were just barely visible from my angle.
“Really?” I asked, leaning back for a better view. “You have no idea how many times I pictured you just like this, sweetheart, except for one thing.” I reached over her to the side table and felt around for the engagement ring. I knew exactly where it was, having stared at it for hours this week in complete misery, but now I slipped it back on her finger feeling nothing but joy. “Perfect.”
“I’ll never take it off again,” she said, admiring it exactly as she’d done the night I gave it to her. As much as it pleased me to see her so happy, I couldn’t help but remind her of what she’d been about to do.
“So,” I said, putting her hand right where I wanted it. “Where were we?”
“You were about to eat your sexy fruit and get your wish,” she said. I took a cube off the tray and bit down into the pulp, unable to imagine anywhere else in the world more inspiring than this, but then she said one of the most erotic things I’d ever heard. “But I think this is another one of those acquired skills. Would you teach me?” Dumbfounded, if I’d been honest I would have replied that my IQ had dropped about thirty points in the last minute and I likely wouldn’t be able to even remember my own name, but instead I played it cool and took charge.
“Face me and stretch your legs over mine, mamita. A good view is essential.” After I had her in the right position, I put my hand on the back of her neck and kissed her again, our tongues dancing, the sweetness in my mouth flowing into hers. She was absolutely killing me, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d climax right now before she did anything. I parted her knees slowly, kissing each one.
“Nothing should feel awkward, and if it does, don’t do it. You should be so turned on, so unable to control yourself that you can’t help but open up to me.” I stroked her legs down to her arches, enjoying the way she responded. “Because the thing is, I’m not going to touch you there any more tonight. If you don’t make yourself come, you’re going to bed just like that. You’ll ache, just like I did this whole week when all I could think about was being deep inside you.”
“Keep talking,” she moaned, starting to caress herself. She laid back flat on the carpet in front of me while I sat up between her legs, front row center.
“Show me how I do it,” I said reaching for more fruta bomba. I was mesmerized by the way she’d placed her finger right where I liked to start working on her. What a sight.
“I think like this, but it doesn’t feel the same,” she whispered. She surprised me by looking right at me, holding my gaze as mine moved down, then back up again.
“That’s because I suck on you.” I licked my lips, wishing I could stroke myself now, too, but I didn’t want to ruin it. I’d sit here for a million years with a hard on to watch this without interruption. Instead, I brought the cube to my mouth and drew on it, after which she smiled, recalling what it felt like. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Amada,” I said. “When you come, I’m going to pounce on you, but not a second before. Can you see how ready I am?” I glanced down at myself, gesturing toward the rock-hard erection that had found its way out of my open pants.
“Oh, yes,” she said, sliding her finger down into the glistening warmth I knew so well. “I pictured you just like that in Monte Carlo, when I was alone in bed with your t-shirt, doing the same thing I’m doing now.”
“Tell me,” I said, unable to take my eyes off her. “How much did you miss me?”
“Enough to wet several pairs of panties every night,” she moaned. “That’s why I didn’t have any left.”
“Amada, you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” I said, squeezing her knees. “It’s all I can do not to flip you over right now.”
“At night I tried to make it feel like you, but I couldn’t,” she continued. “Your fingers always surprise me. You know exactly what to do.”
“Where do my fingers go?” I barely recognized my own voice it was so low. I knew I probably looked like a slack-jawed caveman, but I’d lost all sense of pride in the wake of the incredible gift she was giving me.
“Here,” she whimpered, sliding one in.
“Wait, give me some of that,” I said. I rubbed my finger against hers and took a little swipe, then brought the sweet nectar to my lips. “You’re so delicious. That’s why I like to dip my tongue inside when I eat you,” I said, licking my lips.
“I love it, Rafa.” Her breathing started to change as the skin under her fingers began to plump, engorging with a rush of blood that meant she was close. “Why don’t you do it now?”
“No way,” I said, sitting back. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen. Finish yourself off, and I’ll be inside you before you can say my name.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” she said, now at the edge. This was her way of asking me to say something that would send her over, and I was more than happy to oblige. For a split second I considered sharing my plan to fuck her in front of a complete stranger later this week, but instead I decided to keep it tasteful for now. There’d be a time and place soon enough.
“You’re as exposed and vulnerable as you can be, just for my pleasure.” She let out a little moan and I put my hand on hers, unable to stay away. “It makes me feel very loved.” I sat up on my knees, ready to leap on her. At this point I was so close I couldn’t see what she was doing anymore, but it didn’t matter. My heart was about to beat out of my chest from excitement, and if I didn’t have her soon, it felt like I would die. “I love you so much, Amada. Come for me, and then I’ll come all over you”
That was all she needed, and before she was able to make a single noise I was already on top of her, my mouth on hers, my cock at her pulsing entrance. I glided past her violently contracting muscles with ease, straight to my spot, where the warm embrace of her body coaxed the life out of me, making us whole.
We slept well that night, our slumber deep and uninterrupted by the rainstorm outside, which Amada said relaxed her. It was the opposite for me, because in Cuba, especially in the smaller cities, storms meant damage that wouldn’t repaired for months or even years. The old worry crept in even though here nothing was the same. Perhaps it was my short journey back that had reawakened a part of myself that had to remain dormant for my survival, until now. It was the love of my country, a tender, fragile emotion I’d allowed myself to feel again. As I lay awake now in the early morning, safe and warm in the arms of my lover, I couldn’t help but think of the people in need. My people.
Amada stirred beside me, reaching behind to make sure I was still there. She did it almost every morning, as if she feared I’d be gone one day without a trace. I took her hand in mine and kissed it, wrapping myself around her. She smelled wonderful, like soft lavender, one of the many bath oils she kept by the tub. Last night we took our first bath together at her insistence.
“Come on,” she said, stepping into the perfumed water. “It’s the perfect temperature. Just a quick soak and we’ll go to sleep.”
“I can’t.” I hesitated, wanting nothing more than to please her, but unable to suppress the bad memory of the last time I’d been in the tub at age twelve. I took off Changó’s necklace and then threw off the pants I’d still been wearing after all our lovemaking, for whatever reason only noticing them now. I hated for street clothes to touch the sheets, but then I realized we’d stayed above the comforter the whole time, so I’d only have remove the top blanket and wash it in the morning. I reached into the shower and turned it on, the billowy steam filling the entire bathroom. “Showers only.”
“Why?” I went to step in, but she wouldn’t have it. “Rafa! Come back here!” Taking a deep breath I shut the water off and went to the tub, where she was already chin deep in white, frothy bubbles. “Too girly?”
“No,�
� I kneeled down next to her and scooped up a handful of foam that I brought to my nose. It did smell good. “The last time I took a bath, my brother held my head underwater. He thought it was funny, but I couldn’t breathe.”
“That’s awful,” she said. “But it was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” I said, reaching further down into the warm water. “This does feel nice.”
“Then get in. You’re safe with me.”
“Amada—” I started to get up, but she held my arm firm on the tub.
“After what I just did for you?” She narrowed her eyes. “I’d hate for the first time to be the last.”
We took a nice bath together and talked for a long while about every topic that came to mind, especially Amada’s own childhood memories. More often than not I was the one who told stories, but for whatever reason she was in the mood to reminisce, so I got to hear all about the day she got her ears pierced, her first kiss and her senior prom. It was wonderful to hear her talk about herself, and when she tried to switch the conversation to me I insisted she continue, not wanting to miss out on such a rare opportunity. Once we were both sufficiently relaxed and sleepy we went straight to the bed, where I threw the comforter on the chair and replaced it with a fuzzy purple blanket from the linen closet.
“Oh, the comforter is contaminated now?” she giggled while letting me cover her. “This one doesn’t match the sheets.”
“How dreadful!” I teased. “Will you be able to sleep?”
Mismatched linens and all, Amada and I snuggled together under the blanket, relaxed by each other’s presence and the rainstorm outside. I’d just found the perfect position around her when I remembered to text the guards to come up, so I shut my eyes for just a moment while I waited for a reply. After a week of sleepless hell alone, it wasn’t surprising that I fell into the deepest slumber of my life, waking twelve hours later beside my beloved Amada still nestled in my arms. Enjoying her beauty far too much to wake her, I lay still watching her and the rain, and thinking of Cuba.
CHAPTER TEN
Mickey, the tattoo artist, did a fantastic job with the tribal armband. I’d sketched it as best I could, limited by my artistic skills but most definitely not my memory. The design had probably been imprinted in my mind by Babalú-Ayé himself, and I knew any deviation wouldn’t be tolerated. The whole process took much longer than I anticipated, so I was glad that Sal and Sandro had both decided to meet me at Madrina’s and get some work done at the same time. Sandro walked in two minutes after Sal with his shirt in hand, his already numerous tattoos on display, and in minutes we were all seated in a row of chairs chatting over the buzzing of three tattoo machines. Even Alex, who’d just gotten back from a workout at the boxing club, pulled up a chair and joined us.
“Careful, Boss, tats are addictive. Look at how many ladies I have,” said Sandro. He pointed to at least five sexy female silhouettes on his chest and arms. “Lara says this one has to be a classy mermaid, but my man here is gonna sex it up a little, right?” Mickey’s employee Jude gave Sandro a fist bump and motioned for him to sit back. “How many you gonna get?”
“Just the one, for now,” I said. I was about to censor myself and say something to the effect of wanting to try something new, but in reality, there was no need. Everyone in the room was a trusted friend associate, even Mickey and Jude, who had known Doña Delfina quite well. “Babalú-Ayé requested it.”
“Ow!” yelped Sal, at the first graze of his skin by the needle. “Damn that hurts!” The tattoo machine buzzed on, the artist barely batting an eye at his protests.
“Sorry,” said the petite girl at his side, “but if you’d come to the shop, the tables would have been a lot more comfortable. Bringing everything here was a total pain in the ass. Quit bitching and keep still.” Sal was about to snap right back at her when he seemed to notice just how attractive she was and kept his mouth shut. Jessica, Mickey’s niece, was the exact opposite of Lisa in every way, with short, raven-black hair and huge kohl lined eyes that made her look as if she’d just stepped out of an anime.
“Settle down, chica,” said Mickey, ready to start on me. Tall and lanky, Mickey had developed a slight hunch over the years, an unfortunate hazard I’d noticed in many occupations, especially dentists, musicians and cooks. “Rafa is a special client. It’s our pleasure.”
“Hey,” I said to Sal, “did you help our friend move out last night?” I grimaced through the initial pain of the needle, which was a little sharper than I anticipated.
“Yeah, how did that go?” Unlike us, Sandro barely batted an eye when Jude started on his shoulder, which was a good thing, because judging by the size of the mermaid sketch I’d seen, he’d probably be in the chair a few hours. Sal’s tattoo was even more ambitious, and even though Jessica had urged him to choose something smaller for his first time, Sal had insisted on a large, complex design that would take a solid five hours. Thankfully, Mickey promised me I’d be out in forty-five minutes, which was about all I could spare because I’d let everything slide for the past week and desperately needed to get back to work.
“Not too fucking well,” interjected Alex, flexing his newly developed muscles. “I heard them fighting all the way down the hall in my room. What kind of racist shit did she call you? An ar—”
“Shut up,” said Sal, looking around at everyone. “Don’t repeat that in here. It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
“Bad breakup?” asked Jessica, suddenly interested. “It’ll get better, especially if you try to meet new people. You have to get back out there right away.”
Sal turned to her and looked her up and down, trying not to grimace from the pain of the needle. The guys and I pretended not to pay attention, but in reality, it was fun to watch him hit on a woman. We’d never seen his game before, and for once I was glad I not to be the one getting ribbed.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. “Don’t look at me funny because I’m the only girl in this conversation. My opinion is just as good as any of theirs. Probably better.”
“I’m not,” he stammered, looking ahead again.
“No one gives women a hard time here, especially not around me. I have five daughters,” Sandro piped up. Then came the inevitable. “But I can’t help it if he acts like an idiot because he likes you.”
The six of us passed the time by talking about all sorts of random topics, and before I knew it an hour had gone by and my tattoo was almost done. Inspired by the subtle yet intricate pattern of my tattoo, Alex asked Mickey if he could get something when he was done with me.
“Sure. Get something small and personal today, but then you should come down to the shop and do something big you can make out from a distance,” said Mickey, never taking his eyes off my arm for a second. “Big back tats on boxers look incredible. We can do something that looks good when you move, maybe something that wraps around your back and fades out.”
“I like that. Maybe today I’ll get a cross with my grandmother’s name on it.” Alex absently stroked his shoulder as if imagining what it would look like. “She always had crosses and rosaries everywhere.”
“That’s a nice way to honor her, Alex,” I said. It wasn’t a surprise that talking about his grandmother made him sad. He’d been closer to her than his own parents, and it was her death that had precipitated his substance abuse. “I’m sure she’ll like it.”
“Rafa, my Dad told me you might be able to let me talk to her one day. I miss her so much. Do you think it’s possible?”
“Of course, if she wants to come to us. Not all of them do.” So far, I hadn’t been able to summon any muertos, but if an Orisha had come to me in my time of need, certainly I could figure out how to call a specific spirit. Unfortunately it was different for everyone, and Doña Delfina had cautioned that it would take time for me to figure out how to do things. “It’s easiest for me to communicate with her, but if you want to speak to her directly, we can invite her to the feast I’m planning. I can’t discuss the d
etails yet, but next week we’re having a private party for someone, and if the energy is right, we should have more than one visitor. I can’t make any promises, but we can try.”
“You talk to muertos?” asked Jessica, momentarily lifting the machine off Sal.
“Jessica, be polite,” snapped Mickey. “Why do you think people waited years to see Doña Delfina, and now him?” Mickey whispered an apology to me. “Excuse my niece. She’s from New York.”
“Wait, do you throw cards for people between modeling jobs to make ends meet or what?” Jessica smirked and resumed her work on Sal, who like everyone else in the room, looked to me in horror. “Nice side gig.”
“Jessica!’ hissed Mickey. He was about to stop working on me, but I pointed to my arm so that he’d finish already. He looked like he was about to die of embarrassment, but her remarks didn’t bother me in the least.
“What?” she said to her uncle. “What did I say? I’m sorry, but in my opinion, when you die, that’s it. That’s just how I feel.”
“He’s not a model, Jessica. He’s a businessman, the owner of this whole place, and I suggest you stop talking now before you further offend anyone,” said Mickey.
“I’m not offended.” I smiled at Jessica, appreciative of her open, honest personality. “I like people who speak their mind. She and my fiancée would get along very well.” Now that Mickey was almost done with my bandage, I started to make a mental list of all the things I had to do today, with a call to Mirtha at the very top. However, one of the spirits did take offense, and I heard a well-timed whisper in my ear that could only have been Doña Delfina’s.
Tell her that the veil is in the trunk of her best friend’s car, inside a small suitcase. She’s a nice girl, but her disrespect is making some of us angry.
The Santero Page 24