The sentence hangs in the air.
Martina leans in a little closer.
“This what?”
The distance between their faces is minimal now. Martina can feel the heat radiating from Rebeca’s skin, the perfume she’s always found impossible to ignore, the electricity that seems to run through the air every time their bodies get too close.
Rebeca should pull away. She should push her away. She should remember all the reasons she just listed—and just as many she hasn’t dared to admit yet. But she doesn’t. The seconds begin to stretch out with an almost unbearable slowness. Martina expects rejection. However, instead of pulling away, Rebeca raises a hand. Her fingers close around the back of Martina’s neck and pull her toward her with unexpected force.
The kiss explodes between them with an intensity neither of them tries to contain. Martina moans against her mouth; a low, broken sound that vibrates in Rebeca’s chest. Martina’s hands slide down her sides, digging into Rebeca’s waist and pressing her harder against the wall. Rebeca responds by arching her back, pressing her hips against Martina’s, feeling the heat spreading between her legs like a fire.
The world seems to disappear for that moment, and when they pull apart to breathe, Martina looks into her eyes and says:
“Let’s go somewhere else…”
*
The night in Santander envelops them as they walk in silence along the boardwalk. The Cantabrian Sea breathes to their left, dark and choppy, with waves crashing against the rocks in a murmur that seems to amplify the frantic beating of their hearts.
Rebeca feels her heart pounding in her throat, in her temples, between her legs. The kiss from the alley still burns on her lips, throbs against her skin. Every step they take together makes the sexual tension twist deeper into her belly, turning into a burning knot that makes it hard for her to breathe. Martina walks beside her without touching her, but her presence is a constant brush.
Shortly after, the cold sand sinks beneath their shoes. A rock wall shields them from the promenade; the sea is just a few meters away, close enough for the sound of the waves to drown out any noise they might make. Martina turns first. Her eyes shine in the dim light, dark with hunger, something that hurts and excites her at the same time.
Martina pushes her passionately. Rebeca’s body crashes against the cold stone; a shiver runs down her spine, but the heat rising from her sex immediately counteracts it. Martina wastes no time. Her hands slide under the leather jacket, move up her sides, grip her waist tightly. Her nails dig through the fabric, scratching furrows that Rebeca will feel tomorrow like tattoos of possession. Rebeca gasps, arches her back, and her own hands respond with equal urgency. They slip under Martina’s clothes, scratch the warm skin of her abdomen, slide down to the hem of her pants, and pull them down urgently.
The clothes become a barrier that turns them on even more, an obstacle that forces their fingers to move with greater precision, more desperately, more intensely. Martina undoes the button on Rebeca’s pants and her hand sinks inside, beneath the fabric of the soaked panties, to find the wetness that was already waiting for her, hot and slippery. Two fingers slide mercilessly between the swollen folds, pressing against the clitoris with fast, hard circles, without mercy. Rebeca bites Martina’s shoulder to keep from screaming, and her teeth dig into her clothes, leaving a deep, wet mark.
Martina growls against her neck, an animalistic sound. Her fingers thrust in and out with a brutal rhythm. Her palm rubs her clitoris relentlessly, crushing it, torturing it. Rebeca spreads her legs wider and digs her nails into Martina’s back, tearing through the fabric and the skin beneath. Martinaresponds by biting her earlobe, sucking hard until the skin reddens and throbs, until Rebeca feels the pain like a bolt of lightning shooting straight to her sex.
The sea roars. The wind lashes them, tangling their hair. But they hear only their ragged breathing and the obscene, wet sound of Martina’s fingers moving inside her relentlessly. Rebeca feels herself falling apart, the pleasure rising like a wave she cannot stop. Her hips move on their own against Martina’s hand, seeking more depth, more pressure, absolutely everything. Martina slides in a third finger, stretching her, filling her to the limit, and Rebeca arches her whole body, letting a broken moan escape her throat.
“Fuck me, damn it, fuck me until I can’t take it anymore,” Martina begs her.
Rebeca obeys without thinking. Her right hand moves down quickly, unzips Martina’s pants, and sinks inside. She finds the soaking heat, the swollen, slippery lips, and two fingers thrust straight into her with force. Martina lets out a muffled moan against her neck while pushing her hips forward to take more. Rebeca’s thumb rubs Martina’s clit in fast, hard circles. She slips her other hand under her clothes, moves up to her breast, and squeezes the nipple through the bra, twisting it until Martina gasps and digs her nails into her hip.
Rebeca feels Martina’s inner walls contracting around her fingers, the rapid pulse, the heat soaking her palm and dripping down her wrist. Both of them tremble. Both of them bite. Their nails leave deep grooves in each other’s skin, and the orgasm hits Rebeca first.
Martina feels every detail. She feels the wetness flooding her hand, the violent trembling of Rebeca’s legs, the way her body arches as if it wants to merge with her—but that doesn’tstop her. She keeps moving through the orgasm, prolonging it, wringing out successive tremors until Rebeca is almost sobbing with pleasure, and tears mix with sweat on her cheeks.
Only then does Martina let herself go. The orgasm shoots through her like lightning. Her hips grind against Rebeca’s hand, and the two of them hold each other tightly.
They stay like that for a few seconds while the sea continues to roar. The wind cools the sweat on their temples. But the desire doesn’t die down completely. Martina slides her hand back into Rebeca’s pants, this time more slowly, and Rebeca responds by digging her nails into the back of her neck, pulling her in for a deep, slow kiss. The caresses grow more intense again, and the wave of pleasure rises between them once more. Rebeca bites Martina’s lip until she tastes the metallic flavor of blood, and Martina responds by scratching her back, leaving a long, red mark across her skin.
They come again, almost at the same time, their mouths locked in a kiss that tastes of salt, blood, and sex. Martina’s chest rises and falls against Rebeca’s. Their foreheads press together, and the scent of the sea mingles with that of their bodies.
Time stands still in that secluded corner of the beach. And between them, the desire to stay like this forever grows once more.
Chapter 17
The sound of the sea fills everything, like a deep breath that seems to keep time with the irregular beat of the night. The waves reach the shore with a soft murmur, break against the damp sand, and retreat back into the darkness of the water, leaving behind a faint glow under the moonlight filtering through scattered clouds. The Cantabrian Sea exhales a salty, fresh, almost biting breath, and that scent mingles with the trace of desire that still lingers on Rebeca’s skin.
Rebeca allows herself to walk slowly, in silence, with the cold sand slipping through her fingers with every step and the dampness caressing the soles of her feet with an almost electric sensation, a tingling that travels up her legs and tangles itself in her heart. The night air brings with it the clean coolness that always appears when the city begins to fall silent, but that coolness cannot erase the heat that still burns beneath her clothes, in the places where Martina has touched her, scratched her, claimed her.
Their fingers are intertwined as she walks beside her. That simple contact—the warm pressure of her hand, the familiar texture of her skin, the light brush of her thumb caressing the back of Rebeca’s—sends a shiver running through Rebeca’s body from head to toe. It’s not a chill caused by the cold, though the sea breeze seeps through the folds of her jacket and makes the hairs on her arms stand on end. It’s clearly the echo of theirragged breaths, the salty taste of Martina’s skin on her tongue, the way their bodies have sought each other out with a need that not even the years have managed to extinguish.
Every time she recalls what happened just a few minutes ago, her chest fills with a dizzying mix of emotions she doesn’t know how to make sense of. Desire. Guilt. Relief. And a dangerous happiness she shouldn’t allow herself to feel, but which spreads inside her like ink in water, staining everything a dark, addictive red that floods that page bearing Martina’s name.
They walk in silence for a few meters, watching the moon’s reflection on the water. The sky is clear, and the stars seem to have multiplied across the dark horizon, as if the night had decided to unleash all its brilliance just for the two of them. Martina gently squeezes her hand. The gesture is almost imperceptible, but Rebeca feels it as if it had been amplified inside her chest, an extra heartbeat that syncs with the rhythm of her own.
