Papi: Based on a True Story

by J.C. Valentine

  Just the prospect rips a string of moans and groans from deep within me. My back bows, my hips arch to deepen every aggressive thrust, and I hold onto the blankets with iron fists in an effort to remain standing. My legs are quivering like crazy, and my hamstrings are on fire, but none of that is enough to distract me from my goal.

  “Oh, Alejandro, yesssss,” I hiss as my orgasm begins to take hold and build.

  “Te gusta, eh?” There’s a hint of laughter in his voice that makes me smile. At least this time I heard what he said and the very little Spanish I retained actually translates. He wants to know if I like it. He’d better believe it.

  “Yeah, baby,” I manage. “You feel so good.”

  Bending over me, his chest to my back, Alejandro braces his hands on the bed beside mine and kisses the back of my neck, then sinks his teeth in ever so gently before moving to my ear. He skims the blunt edges of his teeth along the shell, his tongue curling around the edge before he whispers, “I want you to come for me, Mami. Right now.” Then he reaches around, two thick fingers finding my clit, and he rubs back and forth and around in circles, not so much coaxing my orgasm forward as he is demanding it.

  I don’t need any more persuasion. With a cry, I’m thrust into oblivion where sensation consumes my every cell. My eyes squeeze shut, and my breaths freeze in my lungs as I surrender to the pleasure Alejandro has wrought on me. He’s relentless in his ministrations, wringing every last drop from me as he continues to pump into me.

  It takes only a few heart-stopping moments for the orgasm to hit before receding once again, leaving me weak and shaky. But rather than collapsing face-first into the mattress like I want to, I hold on, giving the last tendrils of strength I have in me to Alejandro as he straightens his stance and strives for his own sweet release.

  However, rather than continue to take me from behind, he catches me off guard when he once again takes control of my body, using his hold on my hips to turn me around. I look up into his dark eyes, consumed with desire and passion and this deep hunger that I feel reflected in my own thoughts and emotions, and I know in that instant that I am beyond lost to this man. I don’t know how or when it happened, but he holds the power to hurt me in his hands.

  God, I really hope he doesn’t. After the year I’ve had, I don’t know that I’d survive it.

  But for him, I’m willing to go the distance, I’m willing to try. I have to. There’s no other choice. I’m already in too deep.

  It’s hard to believe it’s only been a few days.

  Wrapping himself around me, and me around him, Alejandro crashes us down onto the bed. Our mouths fuse together, feasting as if starved for one another. I’m so wet now that he slides inside of me without guidance, setting a furious pace that threatens to take me over the edge once again.

  Electricity lights a path through all of my cells, firing me up from the inside. I feel like a live wire, ready to combust even as I try to hold myself together. Alejandro will be my undoing, mark my words.

  Buried deep inside of me, he’s completely lost as he reaches for his own state of bliss, and while I am enjoying every second more than words can say, I am also committing every detail to memory in case it’s all I have to look back on one day.

  I hold onto the backs of his arms, feeling the raw power within. I listen to his heavy breathing, straining with each movement. I soak in the summery fragrance of his cologne, a faint backdrop to the musky scent of sex that now envelopes us. The strength of his thighs against the backs of mine. The way my feet hang over them, my calves pressing down as I cling to him.

  I never want this night to end.

  But I know it has to. Everything good comes to an end.

  When his breaths begin to shallow and become more labored, and Alejandro buries his face in my shoulder, I know he’s dancing the cliff’s edge of release. I hold on tighter, wanting to claim all of him, taking pleasure in the fact that he’s coming undone because of me.

  And then a moment of startling clarity explodes inside my head.

  “Don’t come inside me,” I tell him, and it takes work to keep the almost frantic tone out of my voice. “Don’t come inside me.”

  He doesn’t say anything, and I am left to wait and see if he’s listening as his hips jerk, losing their fluid momentum. His pace slows significantly, and it’s almost as if time stands still as his release takes hold. He gives one last thrust, pauses briefly, then pulls out, jerking himself off into the mound of matted up blankets.

  We remain tangled together while he catches his breath, but me? I measure the last few moments, praying like hell and cursing myself for being such an idiot.

  Ten years ago, my husband had a vasectomy. I never had a need for birth control. Until now. In our lust-filled haze, it never even occurred to me to use protection. I guess what they say is true: old habits die hard. The only problem is that while my husband could no longer get me pregnant, Alejandro most certainly can.

  Fuck.

  7

  After divesting us of our remaining clothes, Alejandro scoops me up as if I weigh nothing and climbs farther up onto the bed, arranging me along his side so we face each other and pulling the blankets over us so we don’t catch a chill.

  He’s thoughtful, I observe, which only endears me to him even more. Instead of me curling into him, though, he rests his head on my chest, his arm cinching tight around my waist so that we’re holding each other. The only difference is that he’s taken the more vulnerable stance this time.

  I run my fingers through his thick hair, down the back of his neck, press my lips to his temple, the side of his head, and so on. Loving on him because I just can’t seem to stop. In turn, his fingers trail slowly down the exposed half of my back, pressing gently into the indentations of my spine as though he’s counting each vertebra.

  In the absence of sex, it’s so quiet. The most peaceful silence I have ever known.

  Home—that’s what this feels like. Alejandro feels like home.

  Once again, I am floored. How can this man have come to mean so much in such a short amount of time? Am I that much of a hopeless romantic, or is it something more? Soul mates, perhaps?

  You’re a fucking loon, Julie, I admonish myself, because it occurs to me that I might be falling in love, and it’s just too damn soon for that.

  Wiping the thought out of my mind, I take the time to absorb every single moment. I love the way Alejandro feels in my arms and the way I feel in his. Strangely, I feel almost protective of him. Or maybe I feel protective of us, as if sheltering this moment from any outside sources that might threaten to take this slice of serenity away from me.

  Time passes slowly, but also too fast for my liking. Neither of us is eager to move, to draw a conclusion on tonight. Maybe we are both experiencing the same nostalgia and worry that this thing happening between us won’t last. It reminds me of that analogy about the candle that burns twice as bright only lasting half as long.

  I kiss the side of his head again, grip his hair between my fingers a little tighter, and sigh a little deeper. Turning his face up to mine, Alejandro meets my eyes, and there’s a ray of peace yet solemnity lurking in them.

  I reflect on how we didn’t use protection. About how it never even occurred to me. The potential repercussions. “You make me crazy,” I tell him.

  He huffs a laugh and, placing a gentle hand on the back of my head, he brings my face down to his for a sweet kiss. I hope I make him crazy too. It just wouldn’t be fair for this to be one-sided.

  The passion between us stirs, creating a slow-turning whirlpool in the air between us, but neither of us acts on it. Rather, we continue to taste and savor one another with the kind of calmness that can only follow the kind of ravenous hunger we attacked each other with just moment before.

  Hitching a leg over his hip, I wiggle as close to him as I can get, leaving no room for air between our heated bodies. “You fit perfect right here,” I point out, referring to the way my hips cradle him as thoug
h he’s the missing piece to my puzzle. “I think you should stay right here forever.”

  “Hmmm…no.” He chuckles. “I can’t stay. You know that.”

  “Yeah.” Sadly, I do. Once Alejandro’s job is up here, he’s heading back home. Yesterday I would have said that it was okay, that I preferred to keep him at a distance so it wouldn’t interfere with the dynamics of the life that I now find myself in and am still continuing to adjust to.

  Now? I hate the very idea of him being away from me for even a single second. I want him in my bed, beside me, tonight. Tomorrow night. And the night after that, and the one after that.

  It’s just further proof that sex makes people crazy.

  I shouldn’t be thinking this way, long-term, but I can’t help myself. No matter how much I’d like to claim that I can be a casual relationship kind of woman, the hopeless romantic inside of me desires companionship on the deepest level possible.

  If only I knew how to pump the breaks, slow shit down and give myself some time to think, to settle in. But my heart is speeding out of control, leading the race without me, the driver, having any say in where we’re going.

  I am helpless in my desire. I don’t really care.

  Sometimes, you just have to go with the flow and see where life takes you. Take the risk. Does that mean I might get my heart broken again? Definitely. But I’m also painfully aware that you don’t always get to choose your path in life, and if you avoid every twist and turn on the road, you’ll end up missing out on some of the most amazing things. So, even though I’m guarded, even though I’m afraid of what lies ahead, I’ve decided that I’m going to take it a step at a time and just enjoy the ride while I’m on it.

  Maybe it will turn out horrible. Or maybe it will be the best damn experience of my life. Only time will tell.

  “Are you going to get in trouble for being out so late?”

  I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s late, but not terribly so. The problem is that I left the kids with my mother, and she’s a worrywart. If I stay out too long, she’ll think I’m lying dead in a ditch somewhere, but it’s not late enough to cause much concern yet.

  “No, but I should probably head out soon to be safe.” The idea of leaving is abominable. Every cell in my body revolts, but I shake it off, knowing I can’t stay any more than he can. Why does time have to be so finite?

  Alejandro grunts, a sound that I take to mean he’s not crazy about the idea of me leaving either. “I can’t believe this all started with a dating site.”

  I laugh. “Me either.” Who would have thought that the first man I chose to meet I’d have so much chemistry with?

  “I’m glad you didn’t turn out to be a man.”

  “I’m glad you’re not a serial killer.”

  I stroke his hair again. Every bit of tonight is being committed to memory, not a single detail left out. If I never see him again, he’ll be burned into my memory for a lifetime.

  “What if your roommate comes back?” I ask, glancing at the door.

  Alejandro’s fingers dance over the curve of my hip. “He can sleep in the hall.”

  Well then. I shake with laughter.

  “Mami?”

  “Yeah?” My voice is nothing more than a whisper.

  “I have to leave tomorrow.”

  My heart speeds up. “I thought you were here for a while?”

  “We finished the job today.”

  I swear I hear the proverbial shoe drop. “When will you come back?”

  “I don’t know. It depends if my boss needs me here or if he’ll send me somewhere else.”

  Suddenly, I feel like I’ve been used. Maybe it’s my naturally suspicious mind. He’s gotten what he wanted, and now he’s taking off in search of greener pastures. I want to hit him. I want to hold on tighter. Desperately, I try my best not to assume the worst.

  My silence spurs him on. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Will you wait for me?”

  The question is a balm to my fragile heart. “Should I?”

  “Will you?”

  It doesn’t escape my notice that he didn’t answer my question, but I consider it. I already know my answer, but I play it cool in an attempt not to appear too eager or agreeable. I don’t want to be that woman, the one who shows all her cards to her detriment.

  “That depends. Will you?” I refuse to commit myself to someone who could very easily run off to be with another woman. He travels the country for his job. He could have women waiting for him in every state. How would I know?

  “Sure.”

  “That wasn’t very convincing,” I tell him. “Am I your woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then yes, I’ll be here.” I’ll probably look back on this one day and regret it, but I find it impossible not to speak my heart. It’s the most honest part of me, and I don’t want it to be quiet. In times like this, when every minute counts, it’d be foolish to withhold even a single word.

  “Okay, Mami.”

  We hold each other for a long while, chatting about everything and nothing: music, work, kids, family, and friends. His trip home and what’s waiting for him there.

  Then it’s time for me to leave.

  After we’re dressed, he walks me outside to my car. Each step closer is like a death knell in my head. I don’t want to go. I find myself wishing for a miracle, for time to stand still. Just a little longer, I plead with whomever might be listening up there beyond the starry night sky.

  If there’s an answer, I certainly don’t hear it.

  I’m shaking by the time we reach the driver’s side door, the cold air cutting through my clothing like a sharp blade. My teeth chatter, prohibiting coherent speech, but there’s nothing to say that hasn’t already been said back in that room.

  I don’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to me to go. I want him to stay.

  Stepping into me, Alejandro wraps his arms around my shoulders and curves around me, bowing my back as he hugs me tight to his chest. His height pushes my head back, straining my neck and cutting off my air supply. It’s uncomfortable, and yet I’d rather pass out from lack of oxygen than ever allow this moment to end.

  Just a little longer.

  When he pulls back, we look into each other’s eyes for several heartbeats. No words are needed. Except three that threaten to push from my throat.

  No. It’s too soon.

  “You’d better come back.” My words float on the night air, a threat as much as a plea. I don’t want to hear his reply, afraid of what he might say. My gut says this is the last time we’ll see each other, and that’s terrifying. So I grab hold of his face with both hands and pull him down to me, and I kiss him for all I’m worth. I push everything into that kiss: my desire, my passion, my heart.

  Don’t leave.

  “I should go.”

  His eyes dart between mine, glinting in the faint light of the parking lot. “Drive safe.”

  “I will.”

  “Promise me.” He pecks my lips with his.

  “Promise.”

  He smiles, and there’s a touch of sadness to it that creates a twinge in my chest. Without another word spoken between us, I turn around, open the car door, and then I’m on my way.

  Now I know what bittersweet truly means.

  8

  Two weeks later…

  Alejandro was on a plane the very next morning. He texted me the moment he touched down and every moment, day and night, for days afterward. We did some heavy flirting, expressed our longing for one another—then Alejandro made a confession.

  I just want you to know…

  I’m in love with you

  I must have stared at those words for hours. Of course I said it back. He said what my heart had been screaming since that night at the hotel. Now that the words have been said aloud, they’re sinking in deeper by the day.

  The only problem is, I haven’t heard from him in days. One day, out of the blue, Alejandro just stopped responding to my texts. It’s
as if he’s dropped off the face of the planet. My thoughts have gone crazy more than once with every worst case scenario it can drum up. Then I have to temper them with assurances that he’s fine. Maybe he lost his phone. Maybe he’s busy.

  Maybe he doesn’t want me anymore.

  Maybe he never did.

  Maybe Alejandro is a playboy like my shitty husband.

  Or maybe I scared him off. During one of our many late-night texts, we discussed our kids and our future, and in a roundabout way, we ended up discussing the night we had sex. When he realized we were completely unprotected, he had a mini-freak-out moment just like I had. He recovered quickly, however, and told me that he’d be happy if I ended up pregnant, and then he launched a day’s long game of making me sweat. At random times throughout the day, I’d open my phone to a message that read:

  Mami…

  You pregnant

  Or

  Mami…

  Do you want a girl or a boy?

  Or

  Mami…

  You’re going to make me a dad soon

  To say he got me flustered is an understatement, but as the days passed, I started to warm to the idea of one day having a baby with him. A little Latino baby with his glittering chocolate brown eyes and that devilish smile.

  I want this man more than my next breath—but he’s gone. And I’m not going to make a fool of myself by reaching out to him again.

  No matter how much I try to imagine never seeing him again, it feels wrong. I’ve learned to listen to my instincts closely. They know things my head and heart don’t. So even though I have my doubts, the bigger part of me is saying no, he’ll be back. Just you wait and see.