Chapter 11

“Nice guys finish last.”

Have you heard that one?

It’s true.

When Vanessa recovers, she takes my hand and leads me to the showers with a funny, dazed expression on her face. She hangs the robe on a hook, turns on the water, and pulls me into the steam.

We wash the chlorine off, then get slippery with body wash and shampoo. Vanessa lets me wash her hair before she takes her sweet time with me. I stand still, light-headed and half-crazy as this gorgeous woman runs her hands all over my body. She lingers on my chest and drags her fingertips over my abs. She scrubs the muscles of my back and squeezes my ass. With an evil little smile, she reaches down and soaps up my aching boner. She gives my balls a thorough lather, rinses me off, and turns off the taps.

For the first time in my sad and sorry life, my stars and planets finally get their shit together and align or do whatever it is that stars and planets do.

I know this, because at that exact moment, Vanessa Velasco gets down on her knees in front of me.

She takes me in her hand and gives my shaft a squeeze. Her touch is pure electricity. My nerve endings crackle.

“I’m out of practice. It’s been a long time.”

I try not to smile and fail. She’s staring at my dick like it might suck her back. I stroke her hair, brushing the wet strands away from her forehead and cheeks. “Maybe it’s like riding a bike,” I say. “Maybe you never forget.”

“Like riding a bike, huh?” She raises her eyebrow at me. “What if I fall down?”

“I’ll catch you, baby.”

Carefully, she grips the base in her wet fist. I watch as she lifts me toward her lips, closes her eyes, and kisses the tip like she’s taking a pull off a beer bottle. When she sucks gently on the head, I hiss. When she slides her lips down my shaft, a strange low groan rises from my chest. And when she takes me deep at last, every muscle in my body goes rigid.

The sweet, wet sound of her going down on me is pure music. I feel every part of her—the hard ridges on the roof of her mouth, the smooth insides of her cheeks, her wicked little tongue. The muscles of her throat close around me, tight and hot. When she reaches up to massage my balls, pleasure scorches me from the inside out. A breath away from coming, I take her wrists and push her gently away. My dick slides out of her mouth, slick and heavy.

Without saying anything, I pull her to her feet, get down on my knees, and spread her legs apart. She’s dripping wet. I swirl my tongue against her clit, then French-kiss her pretty pink pussy. I feast on her, holding nothing back. I press two thick fingers deep inside her.

She gasps and grabs my shoulders. Her legs are trembling. Her eyes are open. “Sal,” she whispers.

The walls of her pussy are slick and strong. I curve my fingers at the first joint and rub her G-spot. When she tries to wiggle out of my grasp, I hold her tighter and suck on her hard little clit. Her muscles flutter and contract. She’s fighting off another climax. Good. I drag her as close as I can to the edge. Then I pull out my fingers, slide them into my mouth, and drink her honey.

Panting, she watches me as I reach into the pocket of the robe and pull out the condom. With shaking hands, I tear it open and roll it on. The rubber strains around me. My whole body is hot and tingling like a sunburn.

Without speaking, I grab her, lift her off her feet, and pin her back against the tiled wall. Panting, she stares at me through narrowed eyes. I tease her slit with the swollen head of my cock. She pushes her hands flat against my chest and braces herself between my body and the tiles. I lower her onto my dick and when those pretty lips stretch around my head, she whimpers.

At the soft sound, I go still. My willpower is almost gone. I’m shaking. But I don’t go further—I don’t want to hurt her. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

She opens her eyes. Without a word, she reaches down between us and wraps her tiny hand around my shaft. Blinking through the pain, she takes a deep breath and slides me inside her tight cunt.

Holy.

Fuck.

I fight off my climax with the rage of a junkyard dog. It’s not easy. I’m not used to feeling good. I work like an ox. When I lift, I hit the iron until every muscle howls in pain. I eat just to make it through the day. I hardly drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t do drugs. I jack off as fast as I can. I have sex only when the need for release overpowers my ability to sleep or think.

The truth is, I’m not good at feeling good.

So I am not prepared for what happens next.

Hot, slick, perfect—Vanessa’s pussy grips my dick and pulls me deep. She kisses my mouth as I adjust my stance on the tile floor. I find my balance. When I thrust at last, my nervous system almost shuts down, unable to handle the pleasure.

Slowly, I thrust and pull back, again and again, learning how we fit together, memorizing the feel of her around me and all the ways she responds to my touch. Her legs are wrapped around my hips and she embraces my shoulders. The scent of her sweet pussy rises and mixes with the smell of the latex condom heating up between us.

When she kisses my neck, I close my eyes and try to catch up with the moment. More than anything, I want time to slow down. I want the camera to pan back so that I can watch myself as I make love to this beautiful woman.

“You feel so good.” Her warm whisper feels amazing. I want to tattoo the words on my skin.

You feel so good.

No one has ever said that to me. I don’t spread goodness. Only pain. Only regret.

I bow my head and stare deep into her dark brown eyes. We are fucking so hard that steam rises from our skin. Her lips are parted, and when I give her an extra hard thrust, her beautiful tits jiggle and she moans, deep and long.

I kiss her one more time. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She locks her fingers behind my neck, hanging on tight. “Oh God, Sal.”

I shove her body against the wall. When her pussy flutters around me, I realize she’s about to come again. Her abs contract and her nipples harden. When a third orgasm ripples through her body, I grab her hips and bury myself even deeper, kissing her and swallowing the gasp of pain that escapes her lips.

I throw my head back, close my eyes, and the darkness grips me. I pound my aching dick into her. One minute passes, then two. I’m moaning loudly. She says my name, again and again. In this moment, there is nothing in the world but Vanessa, her taste, her scent, her touch, her body.

Being with her is everything I hoped it would be, only better.

When I come at last, a carnival of lights explodes behind my closed eyelids.

We wash up, put on clean robes, and stumble into the lounge. I sit on the sofa and Vanessa climbs into my lap, stretching her legs on the cushions and resting her head against my shoulder. For once, all the tension I’ve bottled up has drained out of me. I wrap my arms around her and she sighs softly. I’m warm and every joint in my body hangs loose.

“So.” I kiss her temple. “Worth the wait?”

“I guess.” She shrugs.

“You guess?” I say. “Damn. Stone cold.”

We both laugh softly.

We talk about everything and nothing. Her words flow over me. I’m trying hard to listen to her, but I’m distracted by the smooth skin of her legs and the feeling of her plump round ass in my lap. I can still taste her on my tongue. Jesus. I’m getting hard again. I shift my weight beneath her, taking some of the pressure off my dick. She keeps talking. I could listen to her all night.

After a while, her voice gets drowsy. She slips from English to Spanglish to Spanish and back again. “I miss him sometimes,” she says.

And just like that, another ghost walks silently through the room. “How did it all go down?” I ask. “With Sleepy?”

She speaks entirely in Spanish. “I knew him from the neighborhood, but we didn’t get together until my cousin’s quinceañera. He asked me to dance in front of everyone.” She smiles to herself and I find myself in the weird position of being slightly jealous of a dead guy. She continues, “He was my first kiss. I was so embarrassed. Seventeen years old and I’d never been kissed. It happened right behind the church hall while they were serving the cake. I could hear my grandmother calling for me. ‘Where is Vanessa? Have you seen my granddaughter? She loves cake!’ ”

“Apparently she loves something more,” I say.

Vanessa laughs. “Afterward, we started texting. Soon I was sneaking out to see him. We’d drive around in cars—always a different car. I didn’t know whose cars they were. Never asked. We’d listen to music. Talk. Smoke out.”

I sit up and gasp. “Vanessa Velasco, I’m shocked.”

“Things happened. We were careless. Three months after my first kiss I missed my period. So I told him. We told my grandmother. She cried. The next day, Sleepy and I went to city hall and got married.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Did you know I got into all the colleges I applied to? Every single one offered me a huge financial aid package. But the baby was due in October. Sleepy was convinced he could get a job and make it all work. So I told all the fancy universities no. I committed to Cal State L.A. and made appointments for prenatal care.”

She grew up fast, just like I did. I stroke her hair, her cheeks, her neck.

“Sleepy and I were happy for three, maybe four months. Then we started fighting. He wasn’t looking for work. He was spending so much time with the homeboys. He started to spend nights away from the house. First one, then two, then whole weeks.” She shrugs. “I lost him, Sal. I lost him before I lost him, if you know what I mean.”

I understand her. Homeboy was out of reach, probably even to himself. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“He died in August. Brianna was born in October. She never met him.” Vanessa slides her fingers through mine. “Can I tell you a secret?”

I nod.

Her voice drops to a whisper. “When I’m sad, I like to imagine them passing each other in heaven. Him, going up. Her, coming down. He’d give her a big hug and tell her he loves her. Because he would have. In his own way.”

We’re quiet for a long time. From the way she shrinks into a small ball in my arms, I can tell she hasn’t told anyone this. “You must miss him a lot,” I say.

“Sleepy? Sleepy was…hard to live with. He kept so many secrets, and he never let me in.” She pauses. “But I miss Brian.”

Homeboy’s real name. Brian. I hold her close and kiss the top of her head. I can feel her secret sadness wash over me. She wipes away a tear with the sleeve of her bathrobe and slips back into English. “I overshare. Sorry.” She sniffles and shakes her head again. “Oh man. So awkward.”

“Not awkward,” I say. “Just honest. Real.”

“When I went on all those dates, that was my problem. I didn’t want to chitchat about TV shows or sports or movies. I hate small talk. So I would jump right into big talk—expectations, relationship stuff, regrets—and guys would listen and be polite, but they would never call me again. I was ghosted again and again and again. I think they were scared.”

I want to tell her it’s not that they were scared. It’s that they were pieces of shit who only wanted sex without having to pretend they weren’t pieces of shit.

“Men are so frustrating,” she continues. Her shoulders tighten up a little. “You’re all hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” I say. “Everyone knows I’m a lowlife. That’s no secret.”

She laughs a little. Her warm breath brushes my throat. “Maybe that’s why this arrangement suits me so well.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can be ourselves. The expectations are clear, and there’s a two-month expiration date. We don’t have to pretend to be anything we’re not.”

I nod again, but the truth is, I’m pretending right now—pretending that I’m not fucking falling for her with every passing second. “You’re cruising for a bruising,” my father used to say, usually to warn my brothers and me we were about to get a beatdown. We used to laugh at him and his weird old-fashioned sayings, but I think of that saying now. I’m cruising for a bruising. I’m going to find a way to let her down. I’m going to disappoint her—of course I will. I’m a piece of shit.

To distract myself, I slip my hand under her robe and slide it up her thigh. I kiss her little earlobe and whisper, “So if we’re not pretending, what are we doing?”

She closes her eyes and smiles. “Playing.”

I kiss her again before moving down to her neck. Her skin is smooth against my lips. She’s so soft, it’s unreal. “Playing?” I whisper. Another kiss. “Do you like to play?”

She leans back slightly and spreads her legs a little, inviting me in. When my fingers graze her pussy, she whimpers. I stroke her, lazily, until she’s slick again and her little clit is stiff. I circle it with the very tip of my index finger, sliding around in her silky wetness. She buries her face against my neck. Her little gasps grow faster. I push my fingers into her again and she grabs the front of my robe, squeezing the fabric tight in her fist.

“Do you like it when I play with you?” I ask quietly.

“Yes.”

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes.”

The only sounds in the room are her soft breaths, the quiet rustle of fabric, and the wet click of my fingers sliding in and out of her pussy. I stroke her clit with the side of my thumb, back and forth, back and forth.

“Sal,” she whispers. “This is crazy. I’ve never come…so many…times.”

When she says this, satisfaction rolls over me like a wave, and I realize my mission for the next two months has changed—I’m going to become the best lover this woman has ever had. When we’re done and she goes on with her life, I want her to look back on our time and remember the low-life thug who gave her so many orgasms she literally couldn’t believe it.

“Hermosa,” I whisper, “you are made to come.”

To prove my point, I make her come twice more—once on the end of my fingers, and once on the end of my tongue. Soon we’re sprawled out, half on the couch and half on the floor, the bathrobes long gone. Her whole body is flushed. Her cheeks are bright pink. Her skin is slick with perspiration. Her pretty nipples are puffy and tender from my relentless sucking and licking. I’ve left hickeys on her neck and up and down her inner thighs because the caveman inside me likes seeing my marks on her.

I pile the sofa cushions on the floor and lay her on top of them. Just for the hell of it, I go down on her some more, sucking on her lips and tonguing them while they’re inside my mouth. When I tease the rim of her pussy opening with little licks, she tightens up and more hot liquid slides out of her, shiny and sweet.

I watch as she reaches down between her legs and begins to stroke herself, rubbing her pink clit with two fingers of one hand while sliding the middle and ring fingers of her other hand in and out of her opening.

I’ve lost count of how many times she’s come tonight.

But that doesn’t matter.

She’s still horny.

I can understand. After five years without sex, I was an animal. Nothing was too much. The two hookers that Ruben hired for me understood my situation and tag-teamed me the whole night after I got out. By morning my balls were like mashed plums but I still couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

Vanessa can’t stop.

Her lips are parted and her pupils are dilated like she’s hypnotized by the sight of me tearing open another condom. Her hands work her pussy in perfect rhythm and I realize, for the past five years, this is how she’s taken care of herself.

“Is that how you like to touch yourself?” I ask quietly.

She nods.

“That’s hot.”

I reach down. I take the end of my cock in my fist and jack it lightly, just halfway down the shaft and back up, twisting my wrist on the upstroke. I do it again.

“Is that how you like to touch yourself?” she asks.

“One of the ways.”

“We’re good at touching ourselves, aren’t we?”

I smile. “There are worse things to be good at, baby.”

Her eyes widen as I move her hands out of the way. Just because I can, I cover her pussy with my mouth and lick all the fresh, sweet liquid off her lips. I slide over her and cast a big shadow over her body. She wraps her arms around my torso and raises her hips. I position my cock at her opening and without pausing, thrust into her so deep that we both groan. She’s so tight, the wet crush of her pussy would be painful if it wasn’t so goddamn amazing. I freeze and take a deep breath. Every nerve ending in my body is raw. Unlike my first orgasm, this one was a long, slow build. It’s going to be a monster.

Vanessa runs her fingernails lightly over my back and looks deep into my eyes. “Are you okay?” she whispers.

All of my muscles are pulled tight and trembling like the string of a bow. Am I? Am I okay? Playing with this woman is like dancing on the edge of an abandoned well. Sooner or later I’m going to fall.

Heart pounding in my ears, I lean down and kiss her again. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I lie.

She blinks as she searches my eyes. I have nowhere to hide from her. Without saying another word, she flexes her internal muscles and squeezes my dick. The pleasure is so sharp, I howl like a wolf and collapse down on her, laughing a little as I try not to crush her with my weight.

“Fuck,” I say. “You’re ruthless.”

Smiling, she runs her fingers through my hair and kisses my chin. “Don’t you forget it.”

I raise myself up again and look down at her. On her back, she looks a little younger, and in my shadow, her dark eyes almost glow. I give her one quick thrust. She inhales sharply and bites her lip.

“Okay?” I ask softly.

She nods.

I rest my hands on either side of her head. I pin her hips with mine and when I thrust again, there’s a bounce to the cushions that intensifies the friction between us. She spreads her legs wider. I pull out almost to the rim of my cock head, pause, and swing my hips forward hard. This feels so good I almost want to cry. The inside of her pussy is tight and slick. The muscles at her opening grip the base of my cock like a fist. At the very tip of my cock, she’s scorching hot. I have a big dick—I’m not bragging, it’s big, that’s what I have to work with—so I can feel the way every inch of her cunt grips me. It’s a secret she’s shared with me. A secret no one else alive knows.

I thrust again and again and again. I shut my eyes tight—I can’t look at her or I’ll come immediately. I lean back and give her a deep, hard fucking. A dozen thrusts. Two dozen. Three. I hammer her sweet little pussy until my body is one raw, exposed nerve. Still, I hold back. Pressure swirls in my balls until the desire to come is so powerful I can’t breathe. Air is trapped in my lungs and I can’t inhale or exhale. I can only thrust. I can only fuck.

“Open your eyes.” Her voice is clear.

I do it. I look into her face.

She can see me—all of me.

I can’t hide.

The orgasm thunders out of me. Every muscle, every nerve ending ignites with pure pleasure. Seconds pass, but time slows down. I’m still coming, locked tight in the grip of the moment. I grab her arms like a drowning man.

“Yes, Sal,” she says, “just like that. Let go.”