His legs were long and lean and he stood in such a way that one was slightly in front of the other, though they were separated. Heavy testicles hung between strong thighs, and I ran a gentle fingertip along the outline of the full shape, the soft skin that encased them.
My mouth came to his back, placing tender kisses along his skin, until I met his lips from the side, standing on my toes. Water ran between our open mouths, as our tongues touched.
“You taste like rain,” he said, mouth hungry for more.
He turned, his erection pushing against my stomach, red hot and as hard as stone, and my breasts pushed against his chest, nipples peeked. The friction between us felt like magic.
He drove me a few steps back, until my legs found the corner seat of the shower. He ordered me to keep my legs open. So I did. I sat, looking up at him, my breath ragged and my pulse racing. His chest rose and fell with thehunton his mind andcapturein his eyes.
Licking his lips, he came in close, sucking on my bottom lip. He sucked and bit, his hands teasing my nipples. The pulse between my legs throbbed. The pressure grew and grew…combustion. I let out a caterwauling moan, coming apart.
He hadn’t even…
“I’vereallymissed you,” was all I could say.
He nodded, his eyes still hot on mine. That wasn’t much of a hunt…
“No,” he said, almost to himself. Challenge rose up even stronger from him, like the scent of desire. “That won’t fucking do.”
We began again, this time the chase far from over.
* * *
Giddy wasn’t quite the word I searched for when attempting to name the feeling I had around Eva. Perhaps it was contentment? That wasn’t right either. It seemed to be somewhere in between the two.
I found a sense of belonging, conviviality in her to a degree of pure peace. She wouldn’t pinch me (like Rosaria Caffi), or tell me to stop scaring her (Violet), or need a maternal sort of guidance (Maggie Beautiful). It was a partnership made of mutual respect and understanding.
As we walked the streets of New Orleans, I snuggled into Brando’s side, huddling against the cold. The wind was high, blowing straight off the river, and it brought with it a wet freeze that seemed to seep straight through my clothes. Despite the sudden change in temperature, the night was alive with jovial, rowdy crowds, drinking and singing to keep the blood in their veins warm. Holiday lights added a bit of festivity. And to my extreme delight, the sky above blazed with stars.
Eva and I smiled at the same time.
Our two men fell back in stride, letting us catch up. I missed the shield of Brando’s body against the onslaught, but I took comfort in his jacket.
Eva was dressed in a similar fashion to me, in a thick black sweater that showed a portion of her shoulder, black cigar pants that were frayed at the bottom, and leopard print heels.
The most stunning thing about her, though, was her hair. Earlier she had it hidden behind the headscarf, but now it flowed down her back, as wavy and tousled as if she had taken a quick trip to some exotic beach. The color. It shimmered from the light of the gas lanterns, a fiery cinnamon and soft caramel sun collaboration, with a deep mahogany adding definition and depth. It was the most gorgeous shade of auburn I had ever seen; it set her features off like fireworks.
“I don’t usually wear heels,” she said, glancing at me. “I’m usually in tennis shoes or flip flops, but I felt tonight was an occasion to celebrate.”
Could’ve fooled me, I was about to reply, but she motioned with her head, a slick movement, to Brando and Gabriel, who had dressed similarly. Both wore black sweaters, beanies, and boots. They seemed to find a similar connection past their clothes too.
Gabriel was hard to understand, but I felt Eva knew his reasons. For Brando, it was quite simple. Gabriel didn’t demand anything from him. He didn’t need direction, nor did he need to be watched. He wasn’t constantly challenging his brother for his wife, or paying much attention to me. When the conversation lulled for a second, and even when it didn’t, Gabriel only had eyes for Eva. He watched her like Brando watched me.
To put it simply, Brando and Gabriel were on even turf, and as much as I inhaled Eva’s presence, Brando appreciated Gabriel’s.
“How did the two of you meet?” Brando asked.
My stride halted so fast that Eva had to turn around, and the two men behind me almost crashed into my back. Brando put a hand out to move me to the side. A stream of people came and went.
The question shocked me. Well, not so much the question, but that he had asked.
“We met in a dream,” Gabriel said, his eyes going soft when he looked at his wife.
Judging by Eva’s face, Gabriel’s answer had shocked her.
Urged by Brando and Gabriel, we picked up our paces, and Gabriel went on to tell the complete story. When they were kids, they had met in a dream; he was dying, and she was there. He held on because she gave him the will to live. But he didn’t remember her until they met years later, in a hospital, during a terrible hurricane. Gabriel returned the question to Brando, and he went on to tell our story.
Our group slowed in front of a bar that offered live music after Brando finished our meet-cute. A man’s voice poured out of the open door, slow and melancholy. I narrowed my eyes, trying to see him, but the interior was too dark. Only neon blue lights were visible.
