Tell Me What You Want

  “Are you ready to play?” he murmurs.

  “Yes,” I respond, pricked by desire.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “No matter what it is?” he whispers as he comes closer to my mouth. I put my hands on his head and play with his hair.

  “Everything except . . .”

  “S and M,” he says, and I smile.

  He undoes my bra, and my ample breasts come free.

  “Give me your breasts,” he says in a throaty voice.

  Still straddling him, I take them in my hands and offer them to his mouth. When he goes to suck them, I pull away teasingly and he slaps my butt. We look at each other, sparks flying. Eric spanks me. It tingles. Not wanting another slap, I bring my breasts to his mouth, and he nibbles and sucks on my offering. This feels incredible.

  Suddenly, I feel his fingers sliding into my panties, and that electrifies me.

  “Stand up,” he says.

  I do as he says and then watch as he gets down and sits on the floor between my legs. He slowly pulls down my panties and untangles them from around my feet. He puts his hands on my hips and makes me flex my knees. I’m completely exposed to him.

  He gives me a look, inviting me to bring my sex to his mouth. When I do, I moan, exploding on contact. Eric grabs me by the hips and makes me press my vagina against his mouth. I feel so naughty in this pose. Eric is sitting on the floor, and I’m above him, moving my sex on his mouth. It drives me crazy. My orgasm rises in me while he holds on to my upper thighs and devours me with devotion. His tongue comes in and out of me, then surrounds my clit and makes me gasp and convulse as he nibbles at me with his teeth. A thousand sensations fill my body as I surrender. I’m his. My body is his. He lets me know he has taken me over. And when he finally places my clit carefully between his teeth and tugs, I scream with pleasure.

  Heat radiates from my sex to the rest of my body. Then that heat reaches my face, and I think I’m going to faint.

  “Get into bed, Jude,” he says as he stands up.

  Barely able to breathe, I do as he says. I want him to go on. “Farther up . . . over there. Open your legs so I can see what I want.”

  I do as he says, and he breathes excitedly. “Yes, sweetness . . . like that . . . Show me everything.”

  He pulls off his black T-shirt and throws it to the side of the bed. His biceps are impressive. Then his pants. I hold my legs open and watch as he gazes at the bounty I’m laying before him. I notice the gloves and a box of condoms beside me. Confidently, he puts on one of the gloves and straddles me.

  “Give me your hands.”

  He brings them together and ties them at the wrist.

  He kisses me and then raises my hands over my head, using one of the handkerchiefs to tie them to the headboard. It’s the first time I’ve let anybody tie my hands, and I’m nervous and excited. When he sees that I’m securely tied, he leans down and kisses one eye and then the other. A moment later, he ties the other dark handkerchief around my eyes. I can’t see a thing. I can only hear the music playing and imagine what’s happening.

  Naked and totally exposed to him, I feel his mouth on me. I want to move, but I can’t. His mouth descends on my breasts. He rubs my nipples until they become hard again and then uses his fingers to keep them excited. His tour of my body continues until he gets to my belly button and my breathing gets difficult. His mouth reaches my sex. He kisses it and opens my legs. His fingers play with my slit. His mouth again takes possession of me. I pant as my legs open completely so he can have whatever he wants from me.

  “I love how you taste . . . ,” I hear him say after he has plundered my swollen clit. I feel his breathing between my thighs and a smattering of sweet kisses all the way down to my ankles. The bed moves. I hear him get up, and then the music grows louder. My breathing is more agitated. I want him to go on, but I don’t know what he’s up to. A moment later, I feel the bed move again, and then his gloved hands begin to go up and down my legs.

  All I can do is moan. When he bends my legs and opens my knees . . . oh God! His mouth, demanding again, searches my sex for my clit. He nibbles at it and I scream. He toys with it and I gasp. I feel when he places it between his teeth again, but this time, he doesn’t tug. Instead, holding it prisoner between his teeth, he taps it with his tongue, and I scream again. His hands and his mouth are working me into a frenzy.

  I pant and try to close my legs.

  He won’t let me.

  His teeth are now on my labia, and I coil my back, moaning like a lunatic. I want more, and he gives it to me. Suddenly, I feel something being introduced into my sex. It’s soft, cool, and hard. He pushes it in carefully, turning it and taking it out and repeating the operation. I think I’m going to lose it, and my hips rise, yearning for more. His mouth returns to my sex as he continues to push it into me again and again.

  For a few minutes, my body is his body. I don’t want him to stop. When his mouth again searches for my engorged clit, I cry out with satisfaction as he tugs on it again. I love this. His soft-gloved hand traces my butt. He grabs it and pulls me tightly against his mouth. I’m going to shatter. Then one of his fingers plays with my asshole. He makes circles around it, and I ask for more.

  Whatever it was that drove me crazy before is now up against my anus. It excites me, but he doesn’t push it in. He just rubs it against me as if telling me one day that won’t be all he’ll do. And suddenly, I break out in an orgasm that completely overtakes my body, and I writhe with pleasure. He lets go of my legs.

  “I love how you taste, sweetness,” he repeats as I squeeze my thighs together and hear him tear open a condom.

  And now I’m burning with the most incredible desire I could possibly imagine. The bed sinks from his weight, and I feel his powerful body hovering above mine. “Open your legs for me.”

  His words are like music to my ears. I feel his hard penis against my stormy sex.

  “Tell me what you want,” he says. God! What a thing to say! I’m impatient, and I start to move on the bed.

  When I don’t respond, he insists, “Tell me what you want, or I won’t go on.”

  Blinded by the handkerchief, I’m also having trouble breathing again.

  “Penetrate me!” I manage as a response to his order.

  I feel his hands on my sex. So much heat! He touches me and spreads my labia to bring the totality of his penis inside me. My body curves. He doesn’t move, but I feel his heart beating.

  “Do you like it like this?”

  I nod. I can’t talk. My mouth feels so dry that I don’t think I can pronounce any words.

  I hear him sigh, and then he gives me a little slap on the butt.

  “Perfect, sweetness . . . Now it’s my turn.”

  I manage to contain a moan as my body begins to flame again. He softly pinches my nipples.

  “You’re drenched and willing . . . I love it.”

  The bed moves again. Without pulling out of me, he sits up on his knees. He holds me by the hips and begins to thrust.

  “Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” he asks.

  “Yes . . . yes . . .”

  My body is his again. I don’t want him to stop.

  His hands, now gloveless, squeeze my hips. I open my legs more and more. I come. Unable to see the scene, I imagine it, and that revs me up another notch. I’m putty in his hands, and I relish every moment. Then he leans into me, and after a final, savage lunge, I hear his satisfied groan.

  Moments later, and still gasping for breath, he gives me a forceful, dominating kiss. After he peels himself off me, he unties my hands. He takes them tenderly in his and kisses my wrists. He takes off my blindfold, and we stare at each other.

  “Everything OK, sweetness?”

  A little dazed and a bit bruised because of how deeply he went inside me, I nod nonetheless. “Yes.”

  I realize I just seem to say yes . . . yes . . . yes . . . but I can’t imagine saying anything else.

>   He gets up and strips off the condom.

  “I’m happy to hear that,” he says, but his tone is suddenly matter-of-fact.

  His odd coolness in moments like this disconcerts me. I watch him disappear into the bathroom. I hear the shower going and follow him, naked.

  He’s standing next to a toiletry bag when he catches my reflection in the mirror. Irritated, he closes the bag.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  His voice stops me cold. What’s going on?

  “I’m hot and I want to take a shower.”

  “Did I ask you to take a shower with me?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

  I look at him, confused.

  What’s the matter with him?

  I don’t respond, and turn around. Screw him! Then I feel his wet hand on mine.

  I pull away. “You know what? I hate when you get so nasty,” I snarl. “I understand our thing is just sex, but I don’t get how you can be with me and then, in a fraction of a second, change and turn into such an asshole. Why do you have to talk to me like that?”

  Eric closes his eyes and brings me to him. I let him wrap his arms around me.

  “I’m sorry, Jude . . . You’re right. Please forgive me.”

  But I’m still angry.

  I try to pull away, but he won’t let me. He picks me up and carries me into the huge shower. I feel his cock pushing against my leg. When I look at him, he brings his mouth close to mine. But I quickly turn away.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The cobra.”

  “The cobra?” he repeats, smiling.

  His confusion amuses me. My bad mood fades in a flash.

  “In Spain, when someone goes to kiss you and you pull away, it’s called ‘doing the cobra,’” I explain.

  That makes him laugh. And his laugh gets to me again. Without realizing it, my legs have circled his waist.

  “If I try to kiss you, are you going to do the cobra on me again?” he asks, keeping his distance.

  I strike a thoughtful pose. But then I feel his hardness.

  “No . . . not if you fuck me.”

  My God! Did I just say “fuck”? With his hand, Eric takes his penis and rubs it up against my sex. He leans me up against the wall, and I hold on to a towel rack.

  “What did you ask of me, sweetness?”

  My chest is heaving from all the excitement.

  “Fuck me!”

  He likes my words. They make him savage. Animal-like.

  Without a condom and without a care, under a waterfall, my flesh parts as he slides his marvelous, wet rod inside me. Yes! It’s the first time we’re skin to skin, condom-free, and it’s amazing.

  When I feel his balls grazing me, I grab him by the shoulders to make him move. But as usual, Eric doesn’t let me. He puts his hands on my ass and gives me a light slap so that I’ll look up at him. Then he begins to move, seeking our mutual bliss.

  The sound of our bodies coming together blends with the shower and consumes me. I close my eyes and let myself go as our breathing echoes in this magnificent bathroom.

  “Look at me,” he demands. “If you like my eyes, then look at me.”

  I open my eyes and target his.

  His jaw is tense, but it’s his blue stare that bewitches me. The effort I see in his face and his slightly parted lips arouse me even more. Then he changes the rhythm, and I scream as my head drops back.

  “Look at me. Always look at me,” he demands again.

  With momentarily glassy eyes, I hold on to his shoulders and look right at him. He’s begging me to come. He wants desperately for me to show him I’m coming, and when I can’t take it anymore, I bury my nails in his shoulders and an agonized cry of hallelujah escapes from my throat.

  “Yes . . . like that . . . come for me.”

  Spasms grip my sex and take me where I want to go. We’ve arrived at some kind of nirvana. After one final, bestial plunge, he pulls his penis from inside me and lets out a long hiss. Then he bites my shoulder to mark our efforts.

  12

  An hour later, still in bed, we make a meal of the strawberries. To my surprise, next to the strawberries and a new bottle of champagne, there’s a bowl of warm chocolate sauce.

  What a marvelous idea!

  My joy delights Eric, who can’t seem to stop smiling. He’s taken on the task of cleaning up the careless drops of chocolate that remain on my lips with his own. The soft contact feels a lot like a sweet kiss.

  My attention is diverted by a buzzing sound. His cell is open, and he’s just received a message.

  “Do you always have your phone on?” I ask.

  “Yes, always. I need to be on top of everything that’s going on with the business.”

  I pop another strawberry in my mouth. They’re out of this world.

  “I see you love chocolate.”

  “I do. And you?”

  He shrugs and doesn’t respond.

  “You don’t like sweets?”

  “Sweets like you, yes.”

  We both laugh.

  “You don’t keep sweets at home?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they don’t really do much for me.”

  “Do you live alone in Germany?”

  He doesn’t respond again.

  I want to get to know him, but he won’t let me in. Whenever I try, he closes down completely.

  His attitude has changed now, and he’s serious again.

  “Jude . . . we need to talk. For me, this is about one thing and one thing only: sex. This is how I play. When we’ve gone out together, I’ve let you see what I like. In the office, when we watched your supervisor and your friend, I gave you the first clue. At Moroccio, when I took you out to dinner, I gave you the second clue. At your place, when I showed you how to use that vibrator, I gave you the third. Conventional sex bores me. Doesn’t it bore you?”

  I don’t respond.

  “Sex is a game, Jude. A game that allows for curiosity, sensation, and everything and anything you want. I get a kick out of making you feel good, and when I see you burning with desire, it drives me crazy. But your inexperience with good sex . . .”

  “My inexperience with good sex?” I say as I take off my robe. What is he saying? Where is this lecture going? “For your information, I’ve had magnificent sex.”

  “Forgive me if I doubt that,” he says with a cold laugh.

  “You’re so conceited!”

  I fold my hands into fists, wanting to punch his lights out.

  “C’mon, Jude. I have no doubt your experiences have been satisfactory. What I’m saying is that they will never be like the experiences you’ll have with me. I mean, c’mon! You blushed when you said, ‘Fuck me!’”

  “It’s vulgar. It’s gross.”

  “No, sweetness. It’s nothing like that. All that happened is that desire and curiosity spoke for you. Desire and curiosity allow us to be uninhibited. In the shower, you gave in to desire and curiosity. You told me what you wanted. You asked me to fuck you because that’s what you wanted.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “What bugs me most is that you enjoyed everything we did. You enjoyed the vibrator, and you very much enjoyed saying the word ‘fuck.’ Your problem is that you deny it all. You lie to yourself.”

  Exasperated and indignant, I refuse to answer him. How did everything change so quickly? I don’t look at him as I put on my underwear and bra. I just want to get out of there. Out of that suite. Out of that hotel and out of his life. Eric watches me without moving from his perch on the bed. I look for my jeans and T-shirt, and once I’m totally dressed, I find myself standing in the middle of the room.

  “Nothing we’ve done together can be changed now. But from this moment on, you will go back to being Mr. Zimmerman and I will be Miss Flores. Please, I want to go back to my normal life.”

  With that, I turn around and leave.

  I need to forget everything th
at’s happened.

  13

  That Sunday, I’m exhausted.

  I want to forget about Eric, but my vaginal muscles still ache, a constant reminder of everything that happened the day before.

  At quarter after eleven, I finally get out of bed, and the first thing I do is talk to my dad. It’s a Sunday-morning routine. Besides, today is the Euro Cup Final, and I bet he’s going nuts.

  “Hello, little girl.”

  “Hey, Papá.”

  After we talk for about ten minutes about Curro and the Euro Cup, my dad changes subjects.

  “Are you all right, my love? You seem down.”

  “I’m fine, Papá. I’m just very tired.”

  “Little girl,” he says, trying to stay light, “you have only two weeks till vacation, right?”

  He’s right. My vacation starts July 15, and the reminder perks me up.

  “Exactly, Papá. It’s just so close, I can’t help but be impatient.”

  I can feel him smiling. That comforts me. He had a really rough time when my mom died two years ago, and seeing him do OK is a great relief.

  “Are you coming by the house for a few days?”

  “Of course, Papá.”

  “Oh . . . the other day, Lucena, Bicharrón, and I went to sign up for the Puerto Real Motocross. You’re going to love it.”

  My father and his two lifelong friends love to participate in this event every year, and I won’t deny them that joy. It’s something we’ve been going to since I was a little girl. They spend all year talking about it, and as soon as I arrive in Jerez every summer, they get so excited.

  “Perfect, Papá. We’ll be there.”

  “And by the way, I spoke with your sister yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know, love. She seemed quite down. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know anything, Papá,” I feint. “You know how hysterical she gets about everything.” Then I try to change the topic. “Where are you going to watch the game today?”

  “At home. And you?”

  “At a bar with Azu and some friends.”