Deja whimpered, and Alejandro couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her anymore. He wanted to taste that sound.
She smiled against his mouth and spread her lips. The tip of his tongue swiped across her bottom lip before she sucked it into her mouth. He groaned, finally breaking and giving her what she wanted.
Alejandro pushed his fingers into her with hard pressure and made sure to drag the pads of his fingers along her g-spot as he retreated. She cried out in his mouth and so he did it again.
And again.
And again.
After a month of barely contained need, Alejandro let himself go, fingerfucking Deja as she suckled on his tongue. His dick was so hard it hurt, and he was humping himself into her hip. When he moved his thumb over her clit, her head fell back and she screamed aloud, spasming around his digits and shuddering underneath him.
Alejandro smiled against the soft rounded point of her chin as he moved his hand between her legs.
“Let me take pictures of you,” he said. Alejandro wasn’t the kind of man to make demands, but he could get very close if motivated, and Deja was the best motivation. He hadn’t ever thought about dusting his camera off, but now he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to aim it at Deja, to take pictures of her so she could see herself the way he did.
“Oh, fuck,” she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“Pictures, Deja,” he said again.
“Yes. Okay. Fuck. Right there,” she groaned.
He covered her mouth with his again and focused all his attention on getting her all the way off. They were moving so forcefully that the poster of Los Angeles above his couch was shaking. He hoped it wouldn’t fall, but he wasn’t willing to stop. He kissed and fucked her until she screamed into his mouth, her pussy clenched around his fingers and then gushed warm and wet into his palm.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close as she shivered. And then he moved his fingers to his own mouth and sucked them clean.
Just the taste of her was too much. He couldn’t have known that or else maybe he wouldn’t have tasted her, but he did, and then he came in his pants.
“Fuck,” he said as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
***
He was embarrassed, and Deja thought that only made him sexier. She couldn’t believe it was possible, but red-faced sweating Alejandro was somehow even better than starched shirt buttoned under his chin Alejandro.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” he muttered to himself, refusing to look her in the eyes as he stood from the couch.
“It’s a compliment,” she said, standing to follow him.
“Is it?” he asked skeptically, heading toward the bathroom.
“Very.”
She followed him, the post-orgasmic euphoria making each step lighter than the last.
At the bathroom door, he turned to stop her. “Let me just… clean myself up,” he said.
“What about me?” she asked innocently.
His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t I get to clean up?”
“Oh,” he said. “Yeah. Sorry, I’ll be quick.”
She shook her head and placed her hands on his chest. She tried to lean into him, but he backed away, hips first. She had to bite her bottom lip to stop from laughing. He was so adorable.
“What if we cleaned each other up?” she asked, not as innocently.
His eyebrows furrowed. She waited patiently for him to get the hint. When he did, his eyes widened, and he started to blush. “Seriously?”
“Unless you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” he said. “But I thought…I don’t want to rush you at all. I can change, and we can just like…watch a movie, or something.”
“We’ve already had sex, Alejandro,” she teased.
“I know, but I don’t want you to think I just invited you over to have sex again.”
Deja sighed. “This is why everyone has a crush on you. You know that, right?”
He ducked his head, and she could feel the heat of his body as he warmed up, and she warmed up right with him. “Are you going home over winter break?” she asked.
He lifted his head and cringed, the answer in his eyes before he replied. “Yeah. I bought the tickets this summer before we...”
He sounded apologetic, and she hated that. He didn’t have anything to apologize for, though his answer did make her sad. “When do you come back?”
His frown deepened. “The day before spring semester starts.”
She had to force herself not to frown with him. “It’s okay,” she said, even though it wasn’t. She pressed her hands into his chest and moved them heavily over his shirt, around his shoulders. “Want to take a shower with me before you leave?” she whispered against his lips.
Alejandro’s expression transformed from sad to excited so quickly that it made Deja’s heart race. His smile was intoxicating. So were his arms as they wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight against his body, no longer worried about the wet stain on his pants.
“Yes,” he whispered as he kissed her and backed into his bathroom. “Yes,” he said again as he slid his hands under her dress and pulled it over her head. He swallowed hard and nodded as he unclasped her bra and slid her underwear down her legs. “Yes. Fuck,” he groaned when she pushed his hands from her body and started to undress him in return.
Contrary to what her students and family believed, most days Deja felt like a weak, disorganized mess and lived in terror that people would see her for the fraud she was. But every minute she spent with Alejandro made her feel powerful and capable, and beautiful, something she didn’t know she was missing. It had only been a few weeks but Deja felt desperate to stay in the bubble of her time with him and now that she knew she couldn’t - that he would be heading home soon – she was determined to revel in the way he felt and the way he made her feel. She wanted to savor every inch of his naked skin and his red face as he helped her pull his boxers quickly down his legs.
“I swear I don’t always come that fast,” he said.
“We’ll see,” she teased as she turned toward the shower.
She giggled when he wrapped his body around her from the back, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. She shivered at all the skin-to-skin contact, the way the hard planes of his muscled body felt against her soft curves.
“Condoms are in the bedroom,” he whispered into her ear, following the words with his tongue.
Deja groaned. “We’ll get there.”
Deja normally spent Saturday and Sunday trying — and failing — to get her life together. She spent hours catching up on grading and course prep, while cleaning her apartment and washing her clothes. She didn’t rest, though, and when she did, she usually felt terrible for it or she was sick and had no choice.
But as she and Alejandro stepped into his shower together, she did something her parents and sister and mentor and friends had all been trying to convince her to do for years: she gave herself permission not to work. If she only had a week or so before Alejandro left for over a month, she wanted to spend as much time with him as she could. She wanted to fill her mind with as many memories as she could, hoping they might hold her over while they were apart.
It had been far too long since she’d given herself permission to put herself first and her anxiety spiked for a second, but then Alejandro’s hands began to knead her breasts, and suddenly there wasn’t any room to mentally berate herself. There was only Alejandro.
WINTER BREAK
14.
Deja liked to spend the first day of winter break cleaning her apartment, since she usually had to give up keeping her apartment in order right around final exams. But it was the first day of winter break and Deja had other, better things to do. Alejandro had a red-eye flight home tonight, and he and Mike were heading to the airport in three hours, so they were making the most of their limited time together.
“Fuck,�
�� Alejandro hissed and then moaned.
Deja smiled as she tightened her hand around the base of his dick and concentrated on lowering herself onto him as slowly as possible. She wanted to ride him until their emotional wheels fell off, and based on the way his muscles strained and trembled underneath her, he wanted that too, but Deja had given this a lot of thought while grading her final essays and exams and taking in all the last-minute extra credit assignments and fielding the angry and sad emails about grade changes, and she had decided that if the two of them were going to spend a month and a half apart, she wanted to make sure he remembered her. A lot could change in six weeks, and she didn’t want one of those things to be Alejandro’s feelings for her. So, she lowered herself onto his dick, squeezed her pussy tight around him – gritting her teeth because he felt so good - and then lifted just as slowly, only to repeat it all again.
Even though they only had a few hours left, Deja forced herself to pretend as if she and Alejandro had all the time in the world, and she fucked him slower and slower until they were both one entwined, sweaty, shivering mess.
“Deja, fuck,” Alejandro said before muttering a string of Spanish at her.
She was happy that she was riding him reverse cowgirl with her hands on his shins. If she’d been facing him and could see that adorable way he bit his lip when he was trying not to come, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to stick to her plan.
He grabbed her waist and pumped his hips upward, desperate to get deeper and deeper inside her. “Not yet,” she moaned, circling her hips to accentuate the point.
“Deja, just fuck me. Please,” he begged.
It was music to her ears. Maybe if the really had more than a few hours she would have continued to torture him – and herself – and ignored that outburst, but the reality of their time constraints and the pull of her own need made her crumble. She laughed, ground her pussy down on him and then moved her hips up and down in short, jerking motions.
“Deja!” His hiss was delicious.
“I’m fucking you,” she giggled, and then her breath gave out in a weak rasp at the last word. “This is what you wanted.”
“Faster,” he said, accentuating that word with a jerking pump of his hips that made them groan in unison.
Deja’s head fell back, and she shivered as he slid a hand up her sweaty back.
If he wanted, Alejandro could have flipped her onto her stomach and fucked her into his mattress. He’d done it more than once. But just as much as she wanted him to remember her, he seemed to want the same.
Deja turned her head to look at Alejandro over her left shoulder.
He was doing that lip bite thing as he watched her ass bounce up and down on his dick.
She shivered and clenched around his shaft, pulling a moan from his lips. He hadn’t shaved in almost a week, and his five o’clock shadow had grown into the thick starter beard. She wished that she could watch it grow longer over the break, to feel it over her naked skin, especially between her legs, at its different lengths, but she couldn’t so she focused on the here and now. And right now, she loved the way it accentuated his perfectly angular jaw and his inky eyelashes.
When he turned his eyes to hers and dug his fingers into her waist, she loved the way his new dark beard made the flash of his tongue stand out even more.
“Baby,” she whispered to him.
“Yeah?” he grunted.
“Do you want me to go faster?” she purred, rolling her hips above him.
He rolled his eyes. She tightened her pussy around him. His head fell back to the pillow and groaned from deep in his soul. “Yes. Fuck. Yes.”
“Say it,” she whimpered damn close to coming herself. She rolled her hips again.
Alejandro bit back a high-pitched moan as he nodded desperately, “Okay. Fuck. Fuck me faster. Please.”
She smiled down at him, not that he noticed, because his eyes were clenched shut. “Okay,” she said and turned forward, ready to really get to work.
She moved her hands from his shins to the bed for better purchase and then circled her hips in a wider circumference. Alejandro’s sharp intake of breath spurred her on and she moved above him faster and faster, harder and harder.
His fingers dug into her waist and then he huffed out a relieved breath, followed by a long, desperate moan. Deja kept moving her hips and Alejandro’s hands started to guide her on top of him. Her pussy stroked and clenched around his shaft until their grunts and moans met the wet slapping of their bodies coming together over and over again.
When Deja’s orgasm came, she lost the rhythm of their sex as her hips stuttered, and her thighs shook.
Alejandro picked up the slack.
He thrust up into her with shallow strokes, letting her ride out the waves of her release on top of him until her body’s spasms began to slow, and then he eased her onto the bed. He turned her onto her back and swept the curly tendrils of her hair from her face.
She reached wrapped her arms around his waist and spread her legs wide to pull his hips closer.
He stroked her cheek with one hand and used the other to guide his dick back inside her. And even though he’d just been begging her to fuck him faster and harder, he fucked her in long, achingly deep, slow strokes. And even better – or worse - his eyes never strayed from her face. Deja had nowhere else to look but back at him as he made love to her tenderly until the force of his own orgasm made him bury his face in the crook of her neck.
She felt his shouted release against her skin as he filled the condom between them.
Six weeks was a long time, but Deja wanted to believe that it wasn’t too long. She wrapped her arms and legs around Alejandro and held him close, hoping for the first time ever that winter break didn’t last too long.
15.
Week One
Deja was sitting in her home office at the desk she rarely used to write and mostly to stress about writing. She had a small stack of books piled high on her right — books she’d started reading but hadn’t finished yet — and a folder of earlier iterations of the first and hardest chapter of the book she was really trying to write on her left. She opened the latest version of the chapter on her laptop and forced herself to take slow even breaths.
Her most frequent writing advice to her students was that a messy first draft was your friend because it was always easier to revise than confront a blank page. She fundamentally believed in that advice, but over the years, she’d started to wonder if that advice could work for everyone else but her. But she knew that couldn’t be true, because she remembered writing these chapters of her dissertation and feeling a kind of freedom. Sure, she’d camped out in the grad student computer lab in her alma mater’s main library at the computer in the far south corner for nearly ten hours a day, every day for close to three months, but she’d loved it. She’d been certain that her brilliance was hitting the page in a way that would change the field of Sociology and she’d felt so hopeful about the rest of her career.
Her dissertation wasn’t perfect, but her committee believed in the cheesy adage that “the best dissertation is a done dissertation,” but they believed in her and her work. She’d walked out of her dissertation defense certain that she had a damn good basis for that groundbreaking book she knew she was writing. Nearly three years later, she couldn’t even fathom what had made her think that at the time. When she looked at her dissertation now, all she could see were flaws she didn’t know how to fix and holes in the research she didn’t have the expertise to fill, and it made her want to cry.
Toni would have said she’d developed a phobia about her research, and she needed to see a therapist about it and talk to her mentors. Marie would have agreed but then reminded them of the last time they’d all tried to find local, culturally sensitive therapists covered under their insurance. Then they’d all be sad.
Deja knew Toni was right, but she had no idea how to scale the wall she’d mentally built between herself and her writing and her current coping m
echanism for it was to just run away. The only problem was that, with her third-year review looming, she didn’t have anywhere else to run. When she turned in her portfolio next fall, she needed to be able to say that she’d made some progress with her book and had at least a couple of articles under review at journals in her field.
Her phone rang.
She thought she’d put it on do not disturb, but apparently that was yet another thing at which she’d failed. Her low self-esteem didn’t care that it was an accident. She grabbed her phone from the desk as a new self-loathing mixed with her insecurity briefly before dissipating when she saw Alejandro’s name.
“Hi,” she breathed into the phone.
“Hi,” he breathed back.
In the background of his call, Deja heard what sounded like a party and then the click of a door closing and then quiet.
“Are you busy?” he asked.
Deja’s eyes skittered to her laptop. The answer was yes. She should have said yes. She knew that, but she silently pressed her laptop closed. “Nope,” she said. “What’s up?”
It sounded like he sighed, and Deja was certain that she could hear a smile in his voice. Or maybe she just wanted to hear that. “I needed to hear your voice.”
“Yeah?” she asked.
“Definitely. I miss you.”
Deja had to bite the inside of her cheek for a bit to stop from screaming. This man couldn’t be real. “I miss you, too,” she mumbled.
“How much?”
“What does that question mean?” she asked with a laugh.
“What are you wearing?”
“Really?”
“Sí. Sí. I’ve been dreaming about you,” he said in a husky voice that reminded her of the way he sounded first thing in the morning; memories of the few times they’d spent the night together. Her sex responded immediately, clenching around air in a wet rush.
Deja stood from her desk chair and headed toward the door. “What kind of dreams?” she asked, her own voice a bit deeper as well.
There was a smile on her face as she flicked the lights off and pulled her office door closed behind her.
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