She leans down and kisses her again, this time more slowly. As their tongues entwine, Martina’s right hand slides down between their bodies. Her fingers brush against Rebeca’s wet lips, gently parting them. Rebeca arches her back with a muffled moan as Martina slides her fingers deep inside.
“Ah…” Rebeca throws her head back, digging her nails into Martina’s back. “More, please…”
Martina starts moving them vigorously. In and out, over and over. The wet sound of her fingers sliding in and out fills the room, mingling with Rebeca’s moans and the distant patter of rain. Rebeca opens herself wider and begins to move her hands in time with Martina’s rhythm.
“Like that… fuck, like that…” Rebeca moans, her eyes closed and her lips parted.
Martina speeds up, and her thumb finds Rebeca’s swollen clitoris, rubbing it in quick circles. Rebeca trembles all over, and her thighs tighten around Martina’s hand.
“Don’t stop… please…” she begs.
Martina doesn’t stop. She lowers her head and takes a nipple into her mouth while her fingers move inside her harder. Rebeca screams, and the orgasm hits her suddenly, brutally. Her body convulses, and her inner walls squeeze Martina’s fingers tightly. Martina keeps moving inside her, prolonging the pleasure until Rebeca trembles and sobs.
When the last spasm leaves her, Martina slowly pulls her fingers out. She brings them to her own mouth and licks them, looking her in the eyes. Rebeca watches the gesture, breathless.
“Come here,” she whispers, pulling her closer.
They kiss again, and Rebeca savors herself on Martina’s tongue. Rebeca reverses their positions with a force that surprises them both. Now she is the one on top. Her hands slide down to Martina’s pants and tear them off almost violently. When Martina is naked, Rebeca wastes no time. She spreads her legs and lowers her head.
Martina moans loudly as Rebeca licks her and runs her hands through Rebeca’s hair. Rebeca devours her with the hunger that has built up over six years. Her tongue enters her, pulls out, circles her clitoris, and then sucks on it hard.
“Rebeca… fuck…” she moans, pulling at her hair.
Rebeca searches inside her while her tongue continues to work on her clitoris. Martina arches her back, and Rebeca begins to move inside her hard, without mercy.
“More…” Martina begs, her voice breaking. “Please… harder…”
Rebeca obeys. Her fingers thrust in and out violently. Her mouth sucks on the clitoris relentlessly. Martina feels the orgasm approaching, intense, and her thighs tremble. Her nails dig into Rebeca’s shoulders.
“I can’t…” she gasps. “Rebeca, I can’t take it anymore…”
But Rebeca doesn’t stop. She picks up the pace, curling her fingers, and shortly after, Martina explodes with a long, guttural scream, while Rebeca keeps moving inside her, prolonging the pleasure until Martina sobs and begs her to stop.
When she finally stops, Rebeca climbs on top of her and kisses her. Martina, exhausted, hugs her tightly, burying her face in her neck.
“Six years…” Martina whispers against her skin. “Six fucking years, and you’re still the only one who’s ever made me feel this way.”
Rebeca closes her eyes, caressing her bare back.
“And you’re the only one who makes me forget the world.”
Chapter 12
Dawn enters the bedroom with a soft light, filtering through the curtains with that distinctive hue of mornings on the coast. The storm from the night before has left the air clean, humid, still permeated with that scent of wet earth rising from the street and seeping through the cracks of the half-open window.
Rebeca opens her eyes slowly.
For a second she remains motionless, trapped in that confused state that exists between sleep and wakefulness, where sensations arrive before thoughts. The first thing she perceives is silence. A deep silence, interrupted only by the distant murmur of a car passing through the still-sleepy street.
Then comes the awareness of her body.
The sheets tangled around her legs.
The lingering warmth on the mattress. And with it, the memory of another breath sharing the same pillow.
Rebeca turns her head toward the right side of the bed and sees the empty space. The pillowcase is slightly wrinkled, and the comforter is completely disheveled.
Martina has gone back to her apartment, and that certainty pierces her chest with an unexpected pang. Or maybe not.
