I make Nan her fucking coffee and check my phone again, frowning when I don’t see a message from Esteban. A thought crosses my mind. I debate it for all of thirty seconds before saying fuck it. I snap a quick selfie and post it to my Instagram stories.
Thanks for all the birthday messages. Blessed to be alive another year.
The plan works. After a scalding hot shower, I return to a new text from Esteban.
Esteban
Happy Birthday, chula! Come over tonight. I have something planned for us.
Something settles in my stomach when I think of what he’s planned, but there’s also relief that I won’t be alone today. I straighten my hair and slip into a light blue and white floral dress. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten dressed up like this. I picture Esteban’s face when he opens the door and takes me in. The thought carries me all the way there. Until the door opens.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Efren growls.
My excitement dies on impact. We stare at each other, the moment stretching too long, and his eyes darken as they roam over my body. Angela’s voice floats out behind him.
“Is that the birthday girl?”
I smile past Efren, forcing it, but his gaze never leavesmine. It burns hot behind me, and I feel it long after he steps aside, brushes past me, and storms out the door.
Moments later, I hear his car peel away.
_______
Bud and Angela insist I stay the night after dinner and cake. It’s nice not to be alone, but I could have done without Efren bringing Naomi. At some point, I make the mistake of looking across the table while Esteban drones on about a football game he won. My attention snags on Efren instead—on the way his hand rests behind her chair. He leans in to whisper something meant only for her, and she laughs.
Even hours later, remembering her laughter makes something twist in my stomach. The thought of them together follows me to bed, and sleep never comes. I toss and turn all night while Esteban lies heavy and warm beside me, his arm draped over my waist. Eventually, I slip out from under it, careful not to wake him. The floor is cold against my bare feet as I pad toward the bathroom.
Tonight, I pretended to fall asleep in hopes he wouldn’t make another effort to have sex with me. I told him I was ready, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It’s only a matter of time before he cuts me off again. The hall is dark, and I reach for the familiar light switch in the bathroom.
I stare into the mirror over the sink, my hands moving to my brown ringlets. Mirrors have always bothered me. The reflection makes me wonder where certain features came from. Or why I couldn’t look more like my mother. Cupping my hands, I throw cold water onto my face.
My pity party is interrupted all too soon by sounds I hear coming from down the hall. I peer at the cracked door. Slowly, I make my way towards the light shining through,holding my breath as I inch forward, every step softer than the last as the floor creaks beneath me.
The sounds grow louder the closer I get, and I recognize them as moans. My heart stops when I peer through the small crack, and I see him. Efren. Standing at the edge of the bed, naked, every inch of him slicked in sweat. His body is immaculate. I’m intrigued by the very sight of him, but then my eyes connect past his abdomen, seeing the body he’s connected to.
Naomi is on all fours in front of him, her hair wound in his fist as he thrusts into her from behind. Their bodies slam together, and I’m consumed by the sight.
“It hurts,” she cries as he yanks her head back harder.
“You’re a good little slut. You can handle it.”
My pussy throbs at his words. Heat builds in my core, and a sinful yearning comes to the surface. My breath catches as I watch Efren’s hand fly to her ass. She cries out, then begs for more.
“Efren. Don’t. Stop.”
My fingers drag to the hem of the oversized T-shirt Esteban had given me. Slowly, they stroke over my folds, and I press my thighs together. My middle finger circles over my clit as I watch Efren’s speed pick up.
Closing my eyes, listening to every slap of Efren’s hand and the moans falling from Naomi’s mouth immediately after. I imagine myself there, on all fours for him on the bed while he fucks roughly. The self-pleasure isn’t enough, though.
I need something inside me.
I need more.
“Harder. Fuck me harder,” she pleads.
My fingers move faster, soaked with my arousal, as I listen to the creak of the bed. I open my eyes again and watch as Naomi bites the blanket, her body stilling as she cries out. Mybreath hitches, my hand buried between my legs, working my fingers inside me.
Harder.
