“I don’t know” she looks at me, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “I don’t even know what a paper like this looks like. What kind of shitty Law student am I?”
I look at her and can’t help but laughing of her frustration.
“Come on, my dear foul-mouthed girl. Show me where you keep your papers and I’ll search for it.”
Chapter five
“And maybe I wanted to give up, but maybe, just this once, I should move on.”
Ana Carolina
Malu
All that fear that I hadn’t felt when facing the possibility of starting over hits me now that Rafa has called that art gallery woman. Holy shit! I’m not ready to show anyone my amateur artwork. It’s hard enough to have him wandering around and touching my stuff, let alone having a stranger here.
Feeling my whole body trembling, I go to my bedroom where all my papers are. I feel stupid for not having any idea about my rights. At least, I’m organized regarding my paperwork. I come back to my atelier to find Rafa standing still, looking at one of my paintings on an easel. Curious to know what’s that he’s looking at so closely, since the easel was facing backwards, I get into the bedroom holding a folder in my hands and stop right next to him. Hum… shit.
“Where did you find this?” I ask, putting the folder over a stand, suddenly feeling shy.
“In that corner over there.” He points to some paintings which were leaning to a cupboard. I don’t even remember putting them there.
The painting he’s looking at is a self-portrait in watercolors. It’s a nude, wherein I’m lying down on a canopy bed with red satin sheets, displaying an uneven Chanel haircut style in my natural color: black. I had my breasts exposed and my hips covered by a thin almost-transparent fabric. Beyond the red sheets, the spotlight was on my tattoos: colorful flowers on my right shoulder, a sentence in an infinity shape on my wrist and a rose starting from my left ankle going all the way down to my foot.
My face had a serious look, with languid eyes and parted lips. It’s definitely a sexy portrait, but I’ve never considered sharing it with anyone.
Without saying a word, I come closer and lift the painting up to put it back where it was.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Putting it away. You were not supposed to see it.”
“Why not?”
“Just because. I haven’t painted it for showing publicly. There are some things that are personal.”
“That’s your most beautiful piece. It’s sexy, sweet, inspiring. You must show her” he says in a low voice, which makes me stop midway. I lean my head down and he comes closer, holding my arms from behind.
“No… I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me feel… exposed.”
“It’s beautiful, Malu. If there’s one painting, she should see, that’s the one. You must share your art with others.” He says precisely the one thing that would be able to convince me at the exact moment the doorbell rings. He takes the painting off my hands, put it back on the easel and, holding my hand, walks towards the front door.
A petite old lady with blond hair up on a bun is standing at the door. She’s wearing a beautiful green dress, low heel shoes, and an elegant handbag. Her makeup is impeccable and, when she sees Rafa, she opens a welcoming smile and hugs him, who, in turn, leans down to kiss her on the cheek.
“What a pleasure to meet you again, my dear. You’re using your hair short now, so handsome” she says making him smile.
“That’s my pleasure, Hellen. It’s been many years since we’ve met in person, hasn’t it? You still remember me with long hair.”
“Actually, last time we’ve met in your father’s place, your hair was neck length, and you were still rebelling against adulthood conventions.”
Rafa laughs loud and hard before inviting her in. She stopped right in front of me, measuring me from head to toe. Shit. I should be wearing something more… adequate? She then smiles.
“And who are you?”
“Er… Malu.”
“How exotic. Just Malu?” she asks me, making me feel a bit embarrassed for not introducing myself properly. If the Judge could see me now, my manners would make him pass out.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Maria Luiza Bragança, but nobody calls me that. Just my father.”
“Nice to meet you, Malu. Hellen Torres.” She shakes my hand and pulls me for a hug. After greeting me, she turns back to Rafa. “Is your girlfriend the artist?”
“We’re not dating”, I reply quickly, before she gets things the wrong way.
“Malu is a friend of mine, Hellen. She’s leaving Law School because painting is what she really likes. I’ve found a whole world of paintings in a bedroom she uses as her atelier. I’d like you to take a look at them to see if her skills have trade value enough for her to consider a full-time dedication.”
“Well, you both know how hard it is to make a living with art in this country” she says, following Rafa to my atelier, “but…”
She gets in and comes across that painting Rafa had placed over the easel, but now facing the door.
Hellen suddenly stops talking and walks towards the painting, watching it in silence. With my whole body trembling, I feel a lump in my throat that won’t let me breath. I leave the room in pursuit of a cigarette and some water.
After drinking a whole glass of water in one gulp, I move to the balcony, where I light my cigarette and lean on the grid to look at the view. I’m not ready to hear someone saying my paintings are bad. Not at all.
I stay there for some time until Rafa joins me at balcony and holds my hand.
“Put out that cigarette and come with me.”
“No… you can tell me later whatever she said.”
“I can’t decide your exhibition details for you” he says. Suddenly I’m taken over by a choking cough episode. “I’m so tired of asking you to go easy on the cigarettes.”
While he stubs my cigarette out in the closest ashtray, I look at him jaw-dropped in complete disbelief.
“Holy fuck, Rafa, maybe the smoke’s clouded my brain. I could swear I heard you say ‘my exhibition’.” I say, air quoting and laughing, completely skeptical. He can’t be serious.
“Shhh! I’ll have to do something about this foul mouth of yours. That would probably scare all you potential clients” he says, popping my eyes out of my head. “She’s totally charmed in there with everything you’ve already done. But that painting you wouldn’t let anybody see is the one that Hellen is in love with. Come, she’s waiting.”
We walk towards the atelier to find that Hellen has a notebook now and she’s making an inventory of everything there.
“Oh, my dear! Such a talent! This one is my favorite. Have you named it?”
“No regrets” I reply, making her smile with sparkling eyes.
“Oh, that’s perfect! I’ve called in my assistant Jacques. He’s on his way and we’re going to make a full inventory of all these pieces for the exhibition. July 6th is our opening. We’re going to call it ‘Just Malu’ and, obviously, No regrets is going to be our main piece. We’re also going to have a cocktail with the press and other important guests. I believe you have enough for an exhibition! What’s the name of that one, with the surfer?” she asks, without a single breath between sentences. I can’t help but feel dizzy with everything that’s happening.
“Name? Drop” I reply, making her smile again. “It’s a surf slang, meaning going down the wave from crest to base” I explain, to which she smiles even more. Hellen takes her phone, still making notes and, suddenly, she’s talking to someone.
“Nuno, my dear! Hellen here! I’ve just found what you were looking for.” She listens for a while and speaks again. “You’re not going to believe this. I’ve found a new artist. She’s exhibiting in July, but one of her paintings is exactly what you had asked me before. You know I usually don’t choose favorites, but, in this case, I thought I better call you first. Check your email.”
She waits for a couple of minutes, and, suddenly, she’s speaking again.
“Isn’t it? It’s even more wonderful in person. Do you want to make an offer? How much? Oh, Nuno. Well, let’s wait for the exhibition then. No, my dear, this is definitely one of the names of the new generation of visual artists we’re talking about. What you’re offering me is dirt-cheap. We can start talking on twelve. But you know that in the exhibition, that would be at least eighteen.
Hellen proceeds to an intense discussion until, finally, the man gives in and she hangs up looking satisfied.
“Well, first sold painting.”
“Already?” Rafa and I ask at the same time.
“Sure, pumpkins. I’m not here to play!” She smiles and gives gentle pats on my cheek. “My commission is twenty percent. We’ve sold Drop for sixteen thousand and five hundred. Nuno is a regular client, and, by the end of the day, the money will be at the gallery’s bank account and I’ll transfer you share.
She keeps talking and I feel dizzy.
“You said sixteen thousand?”
“That’s right. Jacques must be almost here, he’ll bring a contract and take your information, including your bank data. It’s a good thing your lawyer is here” she says with a smile and goes back to her inventory.
I leave the room and go back to the balcony, reaching for a cigarette pack in my pocket. I’m about to light it when Rafa comes closer, takes the cigarette out of my lips and throw it away.
“Are you okay?”
“Sixteen thousand?” I ask, to which he nods smiling.
“Yes. You do have a bank account, right?”
“Just a joint account with the Judge” I reply, still dizzy.
“Well, after I check that contract and they’re done here, I’m taking you to a bank to get you one. This amount of money will be enough to rent an apartment and pay your bills for some time. With an exhibition in the horizon, I don’t see any reason to be worried, for now.”
I’m sitting down, facing the view from the balcony, looking ahead without actually seeing anything.
“Sixteen thousand?” I ask again, making Rafa laugh.
“Congrats, miss Artist. I’m proud of you” he says, taking me to sit on his lap, holding my body in a tight hug.
Here, with my body next to his, I come to the conclusion that, even when it seems that it’s better to just give up, moving forward might be the best option.
Chapter six
“Being happy is to stop being a victim of problems but become an actor in history itself.”
Charles Chaplin
Malu
Only one hour left until the exhibition opening. Even now I can’t believe that time has passed so quickly. During this period, with Rafa and Helen’s support, I managed to get my life back on track.
I walk through the living room in my new apartment, going towards the balcony. I don’t know how, but Rafa’s found me this furnished apartment to rent, close to his place, for a bargain. According to him, the rental housing market was facing a slowdown and the landlord was happy to get rid of that condo.
The place was beautiful, well-lit and ventilated, in a quiet section of that neighborhood, where I could paint peacefully. My favorite room was the balcony. There, I could sit on a chaise, smoke a cigarette and watch the sunset. This apartment isn’t as close to the beach as the previous one, but I could still see a little bit of the sea through the buildings, and that’s enough for me.
The apartment itself is not big. There’s a small living room, decorated with one of my paintings, which I hung there right after I moved in. The master bedroom was turned into an atelier, with the landlord’s permission, where I keep my paintings, paints, thinners and brushes. I sleep in another room that, technically, is the guest room.
I look at my own reflection in the glass door which separates the balcony from the living room and smile with satisfaction. Hellen has been helping me to find myself. She took me to a hairdresser to have my hair properly cut and we talked about dyes and colors, reaching the conclusion that we should go back to my natural hair color. Then, right in front of me, I see a woman with beautiful dark hair in a Chanel haircut style with layers and side fringe, eyeliner in her eyes, and burgundy lipstick highlighting her lips. I was wearing a beautiful one-shoulder black dress, showing the colorful flowers on my bare shoulder, and a nice pair of killer sandals, which were oddly comfortable considering their looks.
I had my nails painted blood red for the first time. I tried to warn Hellen that it wouldn’t last, though. After two days dealing with paints and thinners, my beautiful nails would soon be nothing but smudges on a cotton rag. But she insisted nonetheless that, today of all days, I should look flawless. Tonight, nobody is going to see the hard-working painter, but one of the names of the new generation of visual artists. Whatever that means.
I sit down on a chaise holding a cigarette. I’d promised Rafa that I wouldn’t smoke. At least not until the reception. But there’s no harm in just holding a cigarette between your fingers, am I right? It’s almost supportive therapy. Just the thought of having a cigarette within my reach makes me feel better.
I hear some noise, and the living room, which was completely dark until seconds ago, suddenly lights up. The smell of perfume lets me know who it is before he can say something. I don’t know what I’d have done without Rafa. He was my foundation, the one I could blindly trust, and I’ve felt grateful for that every day since the moment I met him. I hear footsteps coming closer until he stops at the balcony door. I can see that the way he looks at me now is completely different.
“Hello, stranger. Do you know where I can find Malu? She has self-inflicted weird hair, of a washed color I can’t find words to define” he teases me, laughing. I start to scold him, but he lifts me up. “You should…” he begins but stops when he sees me standing up. Some seconds pass by until he’s able to finish his thoughts. “… swear less.”
“And you should be a gentleman and shouldn’t call my hair weird.” I approach him. With one hand, he takes off the cigarette from my fingers, while let other linger on my hips.
“You look beautiful,” he smiles and smack me on my lips.
“You don’t look bad yourself.” I wrap my arms around his black suit, embracing his broad shoulders.
“Are you okay?”
“A little nervous, but okay.”
“Everything’s going to be alright. I’ll be by your side all night long. Don’t worry.” These things he says make me smile and I feel deeply grateful for his affection towards me. My feelings for Rafa are the closest thing I can define as love for someone. I’d never been loved, so I wouldn’t be able to identify such a feeling. People usually talk about parental love, love between man and woman, family love… I know none of those things. The only thing I know is that, if there really were such a feeling and if I were worthy of feeling it, even though I believe I’m not, whatever this is – what I feel for Rafa – it may be my own way of loving.
“Shall we? We must arrive a bit early.”
“Sure, let me just take my purse.” I go to my bedroom and grab the tiny purse lying on my bed. When I come back, I meet Rafa again. He lets his hand lie on the bottom of my spine and follows me towards the hallway.
****
Rafa
I’ve never seen Malu like that. Even when she used to argue with her family, she didn’t look as fragile as she does now. I look at her, sitting next to me in the car in complete silence, playing with the pendants from a bracelet I gave her while staring outside, I wonder what’s on her mind.
Hellen did an outstanding job with her. Malu looks gorgeous. She doesn’t look like a rebel girl anymore, but like a woman who’s aware of her own beauty and sex appeal. She seems all grown-up, mature, feminine. And I definitely should start dating soon, because I’m seeing things in her that I’m not supposed to.
As we approach the gallery, I spot some movement on the seat beside me and look straight to Malu, watching her wringing her hands on her lap.
“Hey, calm down. Everything’s going to be alright,” I tell her, holding her fingers on mine.
“What if nobody comes to this shit?”
“Watch your mouth.”
“I mean it, Rafa. If it’s empty, Hellen will be fucking disappointed. We better go back home. Look, if you go straight ahead, there’s a turn on the road and…”
“It’s not empty. Take a deep breath and watch your freaking mouth.” I’m laughing. She looks at me scared but then she also laughs.
“Do you think so?”
“I’m positive. At least the guys from the beach and from Tito’s bar are going to be there.” Her smile grows larger, and she exhales all the air she was keeping in.
I stop the car in front of the gallery and a valet opens her door to help her out. People around us turn their heads to watch her with admiration, but she’s trembling so much she can’t even see what’s going on. I go around the car, and after I thank the valet by handing him the car keys, she grabs my arm.
When we get inside the gallery, we’re greeted by Hellen right away.
“Oh, that’s wonderful! You two look so beautiful.” She greets us with kisses and take a step back to admire Malu. “You look amazing, young lady. Are you ready? The press here is dying to know who’s our talented artist.”
“Really?” Malu seems thunderstruck.
“Yes. Rafael, you may take a look at the exhibition while I take our artist to meet some people.
“Sure. Good luck, sweetie.” I kiss her forehead and watch her go away, still a bit apprehensive.
I look around but can’t face any familiar faces. It’s still early, so I decide to take a look at the exhibition, even though I’ve already seen all the paintings. I walk through the hallway, but a waiter stops me to offer a glass of champagne. Holding on to my glass, I enter the exhibit room. About forty paintings are hanging around the gallery rooms, but right on the entrance, I’m greeted by No regrets. The large canvas with an image of Malu in watercolors opens the exhibition, greeting visitors as soon as they arrive. I can’t help but feeling a little uneasy seeing her so exposed. However, there’s no denying regarding the beauty of that painting and the model herself.
This piece depicts a strong, brave, fearless woman, but, at the same time, highlights her femininity and delicacy. It’s a mixture between daring and innocent, erotic and sexy. I stay there for a couple of minutes, enjoying the beauty of her art and trying to make sense of how someone with so many shades, complications and rebellion was able to pour so many feelings in a single canvas.
The whole night passed as a blur. The gallery was crowded, all the paintings were sold and, according to Hellen, some people have already made requests. They were really impressed not only by the beauty of her paintings but by the woman behind the artwork. I can’t help but feel proud of the way she blossoms when doing what she really likes.
After people were all gone, Hellen locks the gallery doors with a huge smile on her face.
“This night was a success, Malu! An event like this, with 100% sold, is pretty rare, you know. Even No regrets was sold.”
“Really, Hellen? I still find a bit disturbing the thought of someone seeing me naked on their living room wall.” Her laugh makes me smile.
“Shall we go home, Miss I’ve-sold-all-my-paintings?”
“Let’s go!” she accepts all excited. We say good-bye to Hellen and head to the car.
We cover the short way home from the gallery in silence. She turns on the radio and Mais Ninguém (which means no one else), a song by Brazilian band Banda do Mar, starts playing. Malu sings along in a low voice and the lyrics moves me in an inexplicable way.
I just hope no one else comes
Then I can have you only for myself
I may steal your sleep
I want your everything
If someone else comes, I won’t even notice
I change to another song, even though we’re close to her place. This strange feeling that song gave me is too much to handle.
I stop in front of her building, without turning it off. She looks at me surprised.
“Aren’t you coming up?”
“I don’t think so…”
“Oh, no! I need someone to talk to. Come on, turn this beater off and cut the crap.”
“Malu, you may hardly call my car a beater.”
“Yeah, playboy car” she says while frowning at me, to which I eventually give up and laugh. I enter the building through the garage and park on her spot, which I’m the only who uses anyway, since she doesn’t own a car.
We enter the elevator, and she quickly takes off her sandals, remaining in her bare feet.
“I can’t believe you’re touching this filthy elevator floor with your bare feet.”
“I’m in pain” she says, with her sandals on her hands while stretching her toes.
“Shit” I curse in a low voice, lifting her up. She throws her arms around my neck, smiles and smacks on the lips, as we usually do.
I can’t tell if it were the dress, the booze, or the stunning song, but her lips touching mine make me feel thunderstruck.
When she looks back at me, she comes across the way I’m gazing back at her, and, just like me, she can’t look away.
The elevator stops at her floor, and I carry her all the way to her door. She unlocks it, and we get in. When I put her back on the ground, already inside the living room, she turns away to lock the door. At this moment, all this desire that I’m feeling anymore get the best of me. I hold her against the door letting my mouth rapture hers in the most passionate kiss we’ve ever exchanged. I’m kissing her as if my life depends on that.
She drops the sandals and the small purse she was still holding and throws her arms around my neck, letting her hand walk all the up to my hair. Her body sticks to mine and I can’t think of anything else but how her kiss is so much better than all the others I’ve had before. My heart pounds faster when I feel her taste, pure and unblemished. And that reminds that she’s still a virgin. Shit.
“Malu.” I call her, pulling my lips away.
“Hmm” she moans against my mouth and I can feel myself getting even harder.
“We have to stop.” My mouth is saying that, but my body is screaming: No! no!
“Stop? Are you crazy?” She sticks her mouth back to mine, waving her body against mine. She’s going to be my downfall.
“Yes. First of all, you’re a virgin…”
“Oh, good one. Now tell me another one, because that doesn’t count.”
“Second, having sex will change everything between us. I don’t want to lose you as a friend” I look into her eyes.
She remains quiet for a couple of seconds. Then, rising up on her toes, she holds my face with both hands and say:
“Rafa, the last thing I want right now is losing you and your friendship. You’re all I have. But, just like you, I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want a commitment to someone and depend on his presence to be happy. You know I don’t believe in any of this romantic shit.
“Watch your mouth.” She laughs.
“We can make a pact.”
“What’s this? Fifth grade?” My question makes her laugh even harder. Her eyes are sparkling.
“I mean it! We’ll be friends forever. If any of us feels up to a more intimate moment but doesn’t feel like dating strangers, we’ll look for each other. It’s going to be like a celebration of our friendship. We can have sex and, when it’s over, it’s over. No promises, no expectations, no future plans.
I look at her still feeling suspicious. That sounds too good to be true.
“A ‘friends with benefits’ kind of thing?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“And what about the virginity stuff?”
“What about it? If it’s not you, it’s going to be someone else. I rather be with someone I care about than some idiot who’s going to fuck me, make it hurt and leave me pissed off.
“Girl, you swear like a sailor.”
“But you like me anyway.” She smiles and I smile back at her nodding in agreement.
“No relationships?”
“Just friendship.”
“Nor plans for the future?”
“God forbid me fantasizing of wedding dresses and veils and shit like that.
“No monogamy?”
“Holy fuck, if you’re not having a relationship with me, of course there’s no monogamy!” Malu starts frowning faces again and that can’t help but laugh. “You better stop all this shit and kiss me.”
“Or?”
“I’ll have to abuse you.” She sticks her lips to mine.
That’s everything I need to send self-control straight to hell and hold her in my arms. We kiss so passionately that I feel my whole body burn. Our tongues dance in perfect harmony, magnifying the decadent taste of all the champagne we had.
I strongly hold her hips against mine, making her moan at the feeling of my hard length. I then support her so she can throw her legs around my waist. She keeps moaning low while I take her, attached to me, to her bedroom. When I lay her down on her bed, before I have the chance of taking off my clothes, she pulls me by the tie, making me lie down on my back so she can climb on top of me.
Malu unties my tie, throwing it on the floor. My coat and shirt follow the same route after she takes them off in a delicate but sexy manner. My breath is heavy, even more because I knew I had to go slower considering that this is her first time.
I start pulling her dress up to undress her, but Malu holds my hands and gets up. I’m reclining on my elbows, curious to know what she’s going to do next and, obviously, I’m surprised by her, in the middle of the room, unzipping the dress and letting it go down forming a puddle on the floor.
She is different from all the other women I’ve known.
Her small and curvy body looks like masterpiece ready to be discovered and enjoyed. Having only the moonlight to lit them, the flowers on her shoulder almost look like one of her paintings, filled with colors, as she usually paints them. I look to her small breasts, her waist, her crotch, her legs, her ankles bearing that sexy black rose going all the way down to her foot.
She’s unique. There’s no one like her, in the whole world. Looking at her, naked in front of me, all I can think of is that she should be worshiped as the erotic goddess she is.
I lie back on the bed, offering her my hand, to which she smiles in acceptance, coming towards me with a smile enhanced by the red lipstick. When our fingers touch, the electricity that greets us is so violent that I can feel her shiver. I hold her hand tightly, helping her climb on the bed and, after she lies down on the sheets, as red as her painting, with her lips parted and her eyes lighted up in expectation, I take off my pants, throwing them on the floor with the rest of my clothes.
“Rafa…” she whispers my name and all my self-control dissolves, though it was not much anyway. I lie on top of her, feeling how soft her skin contrasting with my own roughness. She lets her hands walk all over the sides of my body, following all the way to my back, while my mouth steals a kiss from hers. This kiss is intense, provocative, and sexy. I let my lips slip through her face, reaching her neck, and I can hear her panting when she feels me nibbling on the base of her neck.
Feeling her heart racing against my chest, I resume caressing her down to her breasts, nipping first, until I feel her twitching under me, and then sucking her hard. She grabs me by my hair, moaning my name while I tease her already harden nipple. My unshaven beard scratches her sensitive skin. I leave there my marks and perfume.
I keep caressing her until the point of no return. If I still had reservations about what we’re doing, those feelings are lost between the nibbles I leave on her waist. I slowly move away from her, looking at her eyes, with pupils obscured by lust. I reach my pants and take a condom from my wallet. While I put it on, I hear her sighing slowly and deeply. Then, throwing her arms around my neck, I feel her press her burning naked body against mine. I touch her, letting my hands slide all the way down to her hips, holding her tight.
“Rafa…” she whispers, and my name sounds like music coming out of her lips. “Please…”
“Please what, beautiful?” I ask her, holding her tight against my erection while I let my tongue trail all the way through her neck.
“I want you,” she pants, and I feel ready to take her, claim her and make her mine. Damn! Where does this come from?
Maybe she feels my hesitation, so she steals a kiss from my mouth and whispers in my ear, nipping my earlobe.
“Fuck me, Rafa.”
Her words have the power to bring up even wilder feelings inside me.
“Foul mouth” I groan, seeing her smile mischievously in expectation.
“You like it,” she says and nip my chin, making me moan. I’m sure it makes you horny.
“You make me horny” I reply and kiss her again, slowly diving into her so she can get used to my thickness and, little by little, I break the barrier of her womanhood.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, a bit worried.
“Yes”, she whispers, looking me in the eyes. “Don’t stop.”
I smile and hear her moan when I start to penetrate her. She holds to me tighter. Slowly, my thrusts grow stronger and deeper, always kissing her to drive away any shadow of pain.
When her body embraces mine and she’s ready, I pound faster, growing into a rhythm, until both of us are lost in a cloud of desire. We kiss nonstop, and I feel like I could die of pleasure.
“I’ve been picturing this all night long, since I saw you in that tempting black dress.” I say, causing her eyes to pop up a little and her mouth to open in a sexy and satisfied smile.
I feel her vagina tighten around my length, showing she’s very close to her peak. Just the thought of providing her an unforgettable night makes me reach my own orgasm. Our bodies contract and, when we peak, we scream each other’s names, our muscles contracting and stiffing like steel cables.
“Wow,” she groans while I lean my head against her chest, completely breathless.
“Wow?” I ask her, laughing. “You used to be more eloquent, foul mouth.”
I can feel her laughing under me.
“Eloquent? Holy fuck, Rafa!” She laughs out loud. “What a shitty word to use after fucking.”
We both laughed, then I nibbled her shoulder.
“I think you like it when I say difficult words during sex, sailor.” I tease her, and she keeps laughing happily. It’s so rare to see her smiling like this, with no shadow of melancholy, but realizing that gives me a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“And I think you like it when I put my foul mouth to work in bed.”
