After our talk, we left the museum. I lost track of time and I’m pretty sure Amy did too. After that, we meandered around the city, checking out some of our old haunts. I felt thankful I had a rare Saturday off-day so we could spend time together.

As we walked along the marina, we held hands. Ironically, for all the girls I’d dated in my past, holding their hand was usually something I didn’t feel close enough with them to do. It was an intimate gesture, and one I didn’t hand out freely.

And the one girl who I felt close enough to that I wanted to hold hands with was the same girl who would be leaving in under a week. I looked over at Amy, her serene expression, the easiness and familiarity. In the past, I would have dodged and ducked anything too deep but I found myself wanting to hold her closer to me then merely holding her hand.

In a week, my life would be back to normal. Did I want that? Not really. Right now, things were still simple.

I avoided thinking about her inevitable departure. It’s what I did well, avoid anything that really mattered to me or had the potential to be. I didn’t need a psych major to know why. I knew all too well. Ever since Amy came tumbling back into my life, a very simple albeit meaningless one, we’d discussed my biological father, my family, her depression, some concept of a relationship between us and had our first fight. For me, that was a whirlwind in all things serious that I hated dealing with.

I never had serious conversations let alone serious moments with a woman I was with, period. But with Amy, we’d always talked about personal, intimate details about ourselves. Back then, it’d been refreshing, when it started out as me just trying to get her into bed. Over the course of our time together, I’d realized that Amy wasn’t going to go into the box that I put most women in. She kept defying my expectations and challenging me in ways that sometimes left me baffled, confused and uncertain about myself and everything about my life. Now, years later, same kind of conversations but now that we were a little bit older, maybe not any wiser, but we had history. And right now, I felt the weight of that history. The longest meaningful relationship I’d ever had was with this woman sitting next to me. That long gap between us didn’t matter. Some histories could never be forgotten or swept under a rug or put in a neat box to be left on the shelf to collect dust. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, though.

Hours later, we stopped at a late night corner restaurant and ordered some falafels. After we ate, we walked towards an open-air plaza while we people watched as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the cityscape of Barcelona.

Amy sat on the bench close to me, and she could not have looked more fuckable if she tried. Actually, the fact that she didn't have to try to look fuckable made her extra fuckable.

"I like this," she said, smiling. Our legs touched while we sat.

I looked around then back at her. We weren’t really doing anything, just sitting. “What do you mean by ‘this’?” I asked.

"Let's see." She held out her hand and started to count out numbers on her fingers. "One, I love being in Barcelona again. Two, I love being with you. Three, I love falafels, and they are the best here of any city I’ve ever lived in. Four, I love that I know who I am going home with, and five..."

She trailed off, and I could see a tear run down her cheek that she quickly rubbed off. I took advantage of the moment to lean across the table and catch her off guard for a strong kiss, which she reciprocated by bringing her mouth hard toward mine. I wrapped my hand around her head and pulled her closer to me, swirling my tongue in her mouth, wanting to taste every inch of her. Finally we pulled away to our respective sides of the table. Amy's chest was rising and falling deeply when she pulled away. Her hand lingered on my wrist. She wiped another tear from her face.

I smiled. "Squirt, why are you crying?"

She sniffled and started laughing. "It's stupid."

"It's not stupid."

"How do you know? You don't even know what it is."

"I know because whatever neuron connections made in that pretty little head of yours can't possibly be stupid."

She began to speak, her tone serious. Her grip on my forearm tightened. "Being here with you, this week, I really am enjoying myself. Like when I went to get coffee for you this morning, and I was smiling, thinking about bringing it back to you."

A heat radiated through my chest. Coffee this morning had been a small but appreciated gesture. I loved how much of a pleaser Amy was. It made me want to reciprocate however I could.

"That's…what you feel stupid about? Enjoying yourself this week?" I asked. “With me?” I tried not to make her sound silly, but of course we were fucking enjoying ourselves. We were a fantastic duo.

"That's only half of it. I guess, I feel so silly because I have a great life back in Chicago by anyone's standards. My parents paid for my college. I live in a great part of the city. My friend and I are starting our own company. My parents are so proud of me for being successful and independent and making it on my own. But I think if I'm being honest with myself, I've felt a sort of nagging emptiness over the last few years. A voice that told me I would never be totally happy."

For as much shit as Amy and I gave each other, it was weird to hear her being so serious and thoughtful, which meant I needed to pay attention. "So…Barcelona cured your depression?" I concluded.

She chuckled, glancing up at me. "Goddamn it, Chandler! No! How hard do I have to spell this out? You help my depression. I love being with you. I like doing things that make you happy for no reason. I've never felt like that before with a guy. I like cooking for you so when you come home from your games you don't have to have an empty house. I like being there for you after your good games and bad ones. I like…you. I like being with you.”

A wave of emotion washed over me, inexplicable and unfamiliar feelings that I rarely entertained.

She watched me, waiting for an answer, a response. I raked my hand through my hair. "Amy, wow. I don't know what to say."

"How about say that I'm not crazy?” she asked, grabbing my hand, and grinning. “For thinking that I don't want this time to end."

“You’re not crazy,” I said, and meant it.

She smiled and rested her head against my shoulder.

I blindly watched people pass by, wondering what I’d be doing if Amy wasn’t here. And the thought of that made me sad too, and I was happy that she was here. I felt a closeness, something that connected us on a level I’d never had with anyone else. It didn’t scare me, but I wasn’t sure what to do with it, her words that had more power then she realized.

The sun had been down for a solid few hours and a chill had overtaken a nice, sunny day. Amy had left my apartment in such a hurry that she’d brought nothing but her purse. I got up, pulling her easily up onto her feet. She smiled, a little sleepily but it was cute, and she must have been quite relaxed.

“I don’t know what it is about you Amy,” I said, pulling her into my body. For warmth, because she was shivering. Her arm immediately looped around my waist. “You make me want to do things I’ve never done. Experience things that I haven’t.”

She smirked, glancing up at me. “Oh yeah? And what haven’t you experienced? You look like you might have an idea right now.”

In fact, I did and thought back to a fantasy of hers she’d told me, and I intended on wasting no time in complying with it.

"Follow me." I smirked, and wrapped my arm around her entire body, landing it on her left asscheek as we walked.

“Remember that church fantasy of yours?”

“No. You wouldn’t...” Her eyes went wide as we strode quickly through one of the gothic cobblestone pedestrian walkways, hidden in the backstreets of historical Barcelona.

“I would.” I took my hand out from being on top of her clothes and slipped it onto the raw skin of her ass, which was hot to the touch. I ran a finger around to her hipbone. I didn't need to reach lower to know what was happening between her legs.

"Fuck Amy, you're wet already," I stated. I could feel her quivering at my touch.

"Yes," she cooed, and that word was all it took.

I switched from 'find a cab' mode to 'fuck it, we are going to find a place to do it outside' mode. Even though the city was big and heavily populated, there were still pockets of secluded areas—if you knew where to look. I veered northward, the marina at our backs and moved us inland.

The Gothic Quarter was the oldest part of Barcelona and a major tourist attraction because of its medieval past—and lots of old, Spanish, Catholic churches. On a Saturday night, even this late, it was packed but only specific plazas were occupied. The area had miles of narrow, labyrinthine pathways that only the locals knew well and I knew exactly where to go. I looked at Amy. She gave me one of her curious looks but seemed to be going along without resistance. This was going to be interesting.

"Almost there," I said, and managed to take my hand off her ass for a minute so I could grab her hand and lead her quickly to a spot I’d visited when I first moved back to Barcelona.

"Where are you taking me?" She smiled.

"I haven't been to church in a while. Have you?" I smirked and winked at her. I swear I saw the air go out of her when I said those words.

"Oh God. We're going to…right here? Oh God." She moaned.

The few streetlights gave us just enough glow that we would make out the outline of the steeple of the church that we were passing by. The old-fashioned rock wall looked like it was honestly made in the year 1400.  

"But how will we be able to get in…"

Amy trailed off as she saw me back up and took a running start to get onto the brick. Using my arms, I pulled my body up and looked into the courtyard. It was not a huge space, but it had plenty of room for what we were about to do. I smiled as I flipped my body up and around the brick wall, then reached my arm down. She immediately figured out what my strategy, and reached her arms straight up. I wrapped my hands around her forearms and pulled her up.

I paused as I held Amy in the air, realizing that I had a perfect view of her cleavage. My boner pressed against my jeans and into the rock. Rock on rock.

"What are you looking at?" she whispered.

"Your boobs."

She rolled her eyes a little. "Will you just pull me up? Someone walking by might see us."

“You don't have to tell me twice.”

I pulled her body up, then jumped down into the inside of the courtyard. "Jump." I said, smiling.

"Catch me with your mouth, please," she whispered as she licked her lips.

I looked up and smacked my lips. "You know I can see everything between your legs right now?"

She jumped, unafraid, and I caught her easily, but didn't put her down. Instead, I held her in my arms, enjoying the feel of her bare thighs on my forearms as her skirt ran even farther up her ass. Her eyes caught mine before I set her down on the ground. She let out a breath of air as she hit the ground.

When she turned around, her brown eyes had a fire in them that even I hadn't seen, burning even more than they were yesterday. I didn't think it was possible that I could want someone more after hooking up with them all week, but that's how I felt with Amy.

Her eyes spurring me on, I grabbed her hips and backed her into the brick wall of the old gothic church. I interlocked the fingers of both my hands with Amy's and spread them out to either side of her body.

"I'm going to make a religious woman out of you yet," I whispered.

"If you fuck me as good as you have so far, I'll believe anything you want me to," she whispered back. I bit into her neck greedily lapping up her skin, running my tongue down to her shoulder. "On the other hand, you make me believe that anything is possible, Chandler."

Fuck me if she didn't know exactly how to egg me on. I pressed my body harder into hers, and she moaned as my kisses trailed down her white v-neck shirt. My greedy mouth licked between her breasts, wanting to taste her nipples. A wave of heat passed over my body and without thinking, I grabbed either sides of the ‘v’ of her shirt and before I could stop my hands, ripped her shirt right off, revealing Amy's lack of bra. Her mouth already open, she expelled a nasally moan before staring at me.

"Chandler. You ripped my shirt."

"The better to lick you, my darling," I growled in a low voice as I ran my tongue between her exposed breasts. She arched her back and palmed my head, massaging my scalp as I dragged my tongue down her stomach before reaching for her black skirt.

"You better get this off too before it ends up ripped like your shirt."

"Oh God, Chandler," she wiggled out of the short thing, revealing her lack of panties to me again.

"You, Amy, are a very dirty girl." I smiled up at her from my knees.

"What are you going to do about it?" she challenged, through glazed eyes.

"I'm going to shut you up so you'll have to stop thinking for a few minutes."

"I'm always thinking. You know I can't shut my brain off."

I gave her one last glance before I tasted her. "We'll see about that." My tongue spiraled down the skin of her hips until my mouth landed between her trembling legs. The angle was awkward, but nothing would stop me from tasting her sweetness. She arched her hips forward aiding me, I lifted up one leg and held it over my shoulder as I swirled my tongue on her clit. She leaned back against the brick wall to balance herself. My mouth wrapped around her wet slit, sucking and tonguing and lapping her up.

"For the love of God, that feels amazing," she whispered.

My mouth busy, I couldn't respond, but the fact that Amy was still forming coherent words disappointed me.

I was going to make her stop thinking.

She ground her hips hard against my mouth in quick shakes, my tongue finding the rhythm with her. My hand cupped her ass. I noticed she was standing on just the one foot, on her tiptoe, her leg shaking. I grabbed hold of that leg and swept it onto my shoulder to join the other, so the only thing she had to grab onto was the brick wall behind her.

Oh, and my mouth. My mouth was anchoring her down. I almost forgot that little fact.

While continuing to flick her clit with my tongue, I hooked a finger inside her. She cried out. She ground against me with her pussy and my mouth fought back.

I hooked two fingers inside her. She screamed so loud I prayed that the church didn't have a priest inside it. Because if he came out and saw what Amy and I were doing…hell, I don't know. He'd probably want to rescind his celibacy vow and join us.

But Amy was all mine.

My weird fantasy in the middle of going down on Amy, fingers inside her, brought me more inspiration to my fingers and tongue. How long had I waited for this moment? Fantasized about doing something this dirty, this laced with heat and emotion with Amy? And here we were at long last.  

I licked and flicked and fingered her and she let out an indecipherable noise that sounded a little like a screaming kid trying to yell English and Spanish at the same time.

It was the hottest noise I'd ever heard.

Inspired, with my other hand, I grabbed hard on Amy's breast. She screamed again and came like I'd never seen or felt her before. She spurted out onto my face and I greedily lapped her up as she orgasmed for what seemed like minutes.

Finally she came back down to earth, her chest puffing. "Oh. My. Fucking. God. Chandler. Chandler." She spoke each word as a sentence between breaths.

I unlatched her legs from my shoulders and set her down on the grass. Her knees were weak, and I had to hold her to keep her standing. She wrapped her arms around me and leaned on my chest as her body continued to convulse. I stroked her hair and smiled.

"I didn't even know that was possible," she said.

"Me going down on you without your feet touching the grass?" I smirked and used my forearm to wipe her juices that were still left on my face.

She laughed. "No. The fact that I…you know. On your face."

She smiled from the eyes and ran a finger down my shirt. My clothedness was in stark contrast to her nakedness. She looked up at the moon and let out a laugh that turned to a sigh.

"You are by far, the most ridiculous man I've ever met."

"Well thanks. And if my hard cock is any indication, we aren't done fucking in this church courtyard." That put a smile on her face, and I instantly smiled back. "You do think too much. I have a new motto for you. For us." I let my mouth graze on her ear and spoke in a deliberately quiet, grizzly voice. "Less thinking, more fucking."

"Oh God, Chandler. You are going to make me come again right now. Just standing here.”

“You’ve been a good girl during all this, so I think I’ll allow that.”

“Shut up, Chandler, it’s your turn now.”

She squatted, yanked my pants down to my ankles, and looked back up at me with this twisted as fuck look. It was then that I knew Amy had equal parts devil and angel in her.

And it was also right then and there that I knew I loved her.

I wanted this dirty sweet girl in my life for the rest of time. My brain was onto problem solving a whole new conundrum that I’d never thought of before, when suddenly I felt her swallow my cock whole, and any coherent thought that I’d had totally dissipated.

I had to grab hold of the old brick wall for balance as she took me inside so deep. Her hands were wrapped around my legs.

After I have no idea how long—could have been 30 seconds or five minutes—before she let herself off my cock and gasped for air.

“How am I doing?” She breathed throatily, and flashed her eyes at me.

“I think…I’ve reached…maximum hardness level,” I said, barely getting the words out.

“Mmm. Level of difficulty reached? Maximum.” She giggled as she used her wrist to wipe away some of the precum that was dribbling from her lips.

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and brought her to her feet. I kicked off my pants but kept my shoes on. My shirt came off, too.

“Turn around, baby.”

She put her hands on the wall and faced her gorgeous ass at me, all mine for the taking. Her boots helped to even out our height differences at least slightly.

She turned her head and watched me smiling, I grabbed her hips, then pushed my hard cock into her pussy bit by bit. She reached an arm up to caress my hair without looking, and I helped guide her onto my scalp. Her wetness allowed me to slide in this time with relative ease.

My cock felt golden as it was swallowed up by Amy’s pussy. As if I weren’t emboldened enough, before I started, Amy turned her head to me and spoke a few words.

“Do whatever you want with me, Chandler. I’m yours. This pussy is yours.”

I damn near came in her just from hearing those words. Luckily, I didn’t, and soon I was pounding away at her from behind.

Her body noted every movement of mine, however small it was. My hips slammed into the flesh of her ass, producing a slap every time we contacted. I ran my hands over ever part of her body I could. I gripped her hair and pulled her head back, wanting to smell her, touch every square inch of her skin, and likewise overcome every square inch of her with my presence.

To this day, I have no idea how long we lasted for in this position. I remember we changed and I fucked her in the grass in missionary. Reverse cowgirl. Amy’s choice—I knew she loved that one.

Like the circle of life, though, after an hour, we were back in the position we started in and our bodies were covered in sweat. In my head, I replayed her saying the hottest words anyone had ever said to me.

Do whatever you want with me, Chandler. I’m yours. This pussy is yours.

They were the hottest words not just because they were hot words but because it was Amy saying them.

We took a moment to catch our breaths, lying on the grass and looking up at the sky but I wasn’t quite done with her. I reached around once more to caress her clit, and she cried out, louder this time again. She moaned just a little, and that sent me over the edge.

“I’m coming,” I growled.

“Inside me,” she yelled.

I came so hard, I was straight up woozy afterwards. I rested inside her, leaned on her as we both panted, exhausted.

I wrapped up Amy from behind. Her body was so easy to wrap up, fit so naturally into me that way. She leaned back into me.

“I fucking love…”

I stopped myself short. Love you? Was this really the time for that?

I don’t know. I’d never said the L word to anyone. Was a church courtyard after an hour-long fuck really the time to say something so serious and life altering?

“I love you, too, Chandler,” she said, before looking up at me with panic in her eyes. “What I mean is, I love you like an amigovio.”  

My heart was beating like crazy. At a loss for words, I glanced back up to the sky. Being here, naked, with the person I’d connected with most in the world, ever. Period.

The moon was three quarters full, and the stars were talking to me, I swear. I even saw the sun to our left in the courtyard, and the message was clear. Time to say the fucking words.

Wait a second, the sun?

I glanced back to where I had seen the sun, but it was actually an older man in a priestly looking robe with a flashlight.

“¿Hola? ¿Ustedes que hacen aqui?!”

Amy saw the guy too, and frantically grabbed her clothes, and tried to fit back into her skirt. However, I’d ripped her shirt and she had to put it on backwards to cover her chest. Her face was beet red with embarrassment as she tied the loose ends at her lower back and nape to keep the back closed. I threw on my pants and shirt, then went over to the man and said hello.

“Perdon, estamos perdidos. ¿Dónde está la salida?”

He flashed his light at the exit gate with a disapproving frown, shaking his head. When he saw Amy though, he perked up. “Dios mio,” he gasped, his eyes got a little wide.

“Si,” I answered him. “Es mi diocita.”

The man nodded, as though he suddenly understood. He said a few other things but went to open the gate. He gestured for us toward it, and to leave. I didn’t waste any time and took Amy’s hand and got us the hell out of there. I heard a loud ‘clank’ behind us. Thankfully, at whatever hour of the night it was, the streets were mostly empty.

Amy leaned into my side. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him what you were to me,” I said to her.

“You told him I was your amigovia?” she said, sounding puzzled. “To a priest?”

“No. I told him something else. Something I just decided.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That you are my goddess,” I answered.

She smiled.

We held hands and walked home through the old fashioned gothic streets of Barcelona.