Sombra

by Leslie McAdam

  I nod. I can’t say anything else, because I know he’s right.

  “After dinner, then,” he whispers. And it’s a promise.

  At dinner, I sit across from him rather than next to him, because we’re still trying not to give away what’s happening between us. I’m pretty sure we’re failing miserably, but I’d rather it not be too obvious. I’m counting on everyone distracting each other with the lively conversations on all sides.

  It’s hard to overlook the sexy beast across from me, though, because I light up just being in his presence. He draws me to him.

  Somehow we make it through dinner, wash dishes, and put them away. When everyone has scattered to watch television or sleep, I walk with Tavo hand-in-hand back to his casita.

  When we get to the door, he pauses. “Wait here.” After he steps inside, I hear the striking of a match. And then his low voice. “Kim. Come in.” He extends a hand. Behind his burning eyes, I see his shadows, but I don’t fear them.

  I’m welcome in the dark.

  He’s left the lights off and filled the room with candlelight. It smells like incense, and it’s arousing, like the incense is an aphrodisiac, although I don’t need one when I’m around Tavo. He closes the door and locks it.

  I stand in the foyer, uncertain, but he takes charge immediately. Standing behind me, pulling a tendril of my hair behind my ear, he asks, “Do you want to try this, amor?”

  “I do,” I whisper. “Do I need a safe word?”

  “Do you want one?”

  I run through possible words in my head. Cheeseburger. Novocaine. Palm tree. Frigorífico. “Can I just say stop?”

  His smile is reassuring. “Yes. And I immediately will.”

  Messing with his phone for a moment, he turns it to music and then plugs it into speakers. Deeply sexy music—Spanish guitar with a beat plays quietly. The perfect representation of the thumping intensity of Spain.

  Gesturing to the speaker, I say, “I love this.” I’m still whispering.

  His voice drips with honey. “Good.” He walks in front of me, and his dark eyes meet mine. “Ready?”

  I nod.

  “Strip. Slowly. But keep your panties on.” Tavo walks over to a chair in front of me and sits.

  My shoulders shiver. Goosebumps erupt, but it’s not a cold room. I’m just freaking excited.

  And nervous. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never tried to seduce a man. I’ve just been kind of … meh. But now? I want to drive him wild. I’m not totally sure how to do it, but I’ll follow his directions and strip, very slowly.

  Tavo’s sprawled on an armchair, watching me. The look on his face is one of absolute heat. He wants me, and he knows he’s going to have me. Tavo’s so magnetic he doesn’t have to say anything to seduce me. He can do it from across the room.

  My hair falls in my face as I raise my hands—fumbling a bit—to unbutton my blouse. I’m cognizant of my breathing, which seems louder than usual, although the music covers some of it. Even though I’m concentrating on my shirt, I’m aware of his eyes. I bite my lip and take my time. Undoing one. Button. At. A. Time.

  When I’ve unbuttoned the last button at the bottom, I let my shirt fall from my shoulders, down my arms, to the floor, and I wait.

  “Now your pants,” he growls, with a raise of one finger on the armrest.

  With a flick, I unbutton my jeans and unzip them. My hands slide down my sides to ease my pants over my hips and push them down my legs, and I step out of them.

  When I reach behind me to take off my bra, I catch his eye and reconsider. Perhaps if he’s in control of this play, I should let him tell me what to do. Seemingly pleased that I’m doing this right, he nods. I unhook it, so the straps loosen and drop down my shoulders and my arms, to the floor.

  While I like the new feeling of being in charge of my own self and my own body, being told what to do by Tavo is really fucking hot, especially when it’s my choice. I stand before him wearing sheer pale pink cheeky panties and nothing else. My nipples tighten and perk up, and my belly moves along with my inhalation and exhalation. I’m not used to my naked body being on display. My thighs are bigger than I’d like, and I have cellulite on my ass.

  He doesn’t seem to care.

  “Stand there. Let me look at you.”

  For a very long time he doesn’t move, he just gazes at me with a supremely satisfied look on his face. “You are so lovely, Kim, it’s almost indescribable. You are any man’s ideal. Supple, strong, soft, and so, so sexy.”

  Shifting on my feet, keeping myself from crossing my arms over my chest, I stare him down, but there’s a smile behind my eyes.

  I’m loving this.

  Tavo does a little twirly motion with his finger. “Giro de vuelta,” he orders. “Despacio. Despacito.”

  A flame crackles on the wick of a candle.

  I turn slowly, as slowly as I can. My hair falls in my face, and I peer at him through it. I can’t help but mutter, “This is weirdly erotic, Tavo.”

  “Yes, it’s erotic, but it’s not weird. You have to understand what I see when I look at you. I see the poetic sway of your ass. The pretty little dimple under your butt cheek. The musical way your hips flare from your waist. So beautiful. I see your succulent thighs. All of you, Kim. All of you.”

  Nodding, I don’t say anything. I just let the compliments seep into me. Allowing him—anyone—to compliment and enjoy the way I look is another new and decadent feeling.

  “Enough with my pleasure. Now it’s time for yours.”

  A noise leaves my mouth. I think it’s the sound of my innocence joyfully fleeing, never to return.

  With a languid movement, he stands, strides to a drawer, and removes two pairs of handcuffs with soft lining.

  “You said no to these in class.” He shows me the key. “Are they acceptable now?”

  My pulse roars, and I nod. He sets the key on a dresser.

  “Give me your wrists.”

  Palms pointed up, I hold out my hands, and he slaps the end of a set of handcuffs on my right wrist, letting it click into place and the other end dangle down. It’s not too tight and not too loose, and it makes another thrill run through me.

  “Okay?” He’s looking in my eyes, searching, making sure I’m not freaking out.

  I’m so into this, he has no idea. It’s risky and naughty and fun. “Okay,” I whisper.

  Taking the other pair of handcuffs, he repeats the action, securing an end to my left wrist and letting the other side of that one hang down as well. Then he guides me with the pressure of his hand on my lower back to the waist-high table at the foot of his bed. He’s placed a pillow on it—I hadn’t noticed it before—and he points to it. “Bend over this, amor.”

  Now my pulse and my stomach are really going. I know I said I trust him, and I do, but what is this? What’s he going to do?

  “You can always stop,” he whispers.

  “It’s okay.” I’m not trembling, am I?

  “Then come here. Bend over this.”

  I lean down and press my breasts to the pillow, my ass bent over and sticking out for him, one-half of each set of handcuffs hanging off me. He takes one wrist and connects the other end of the handcuff to the iron bed and repeats on the other side. My arms are now spread wide. Grabbing other pillows from his bed, he wedges them under me so that I’m supported and comfortable except that my ass is exposed.

  As he walks by, he gives it a swat. I yip.

  “Silencio.”

  My head nods assent into the pillow. I turn my head to the side so I can see him in the candlelight.

  Standing behind me a moment, he pauses, and then slaps my other butt cheek, hard enough to sting. It feels good. Strange that a little slap would feel good, but it’s in an area where I have padding, and it doesn’t hurt. It just makes me feel. As he keeps doing it, I find myself loving the sound, too. It’s amazing. Sexual. Sensual. He slaps the low part of my cheek, where there’s no fabric. The sound of skin slapping on s
kin on the most intimate part of me. Even while he’s still fully dressed.

  Wetness seeps between my legs. I strain against the handcuffs, but that makes me claustrophobic, so I relax and let him do this. I let out a breath.

  I’m loving the attention.

  Kneeling behind me, he puts his strong hands on my ankles, and then slowly brings them up my legs until he reaches my pink undies.

  “Let’s take these off.” With a finger on either side, he peels them off my body. I step out of them, and he gets a good look. “You’re bare.”

  “I showered. I shaved.”

  “Joder. I need to taste you. I will. But first.” He stands, pads away, and returns. While he’s gone, I’m wondering what he’s getting. It could be anything from a whip to whipped cream. “Your skin is burning, Kim. Are you okay?”

  “I’m just fucking turned on, Tavo. I need you to move.”

  He chuckles. “I think you like the pause. I think that’s what your dream on the white fur means.”

  I don’t answer.

  “Suck on this.” He holds an ice cube against my lips, and I take it in my mouth. The cold feels refreshing, and I drool a little, the water dripping down my jaw. The warm room with candles and Tavo made me decompress, but this wakes me up immediately.

  He pulls the ice cube out of my mouth and draws it along my jaw. Then traces it in a winding pattern down my back until he gets to my ass. And he presses it between my ass cheeks and down into my pussy.

  I don’t think I’ve ever used the word pussy before.

  The cold only makes me hotter. The wet only makes me wetter. The waiting only makes my desire come alive.

  I’ve never been more vulnerable than I am right now with him touching every part of me and me unable to move—but I’ve never felt more wanted. It’s messing with my head, being restrained like this for his viewing, and I think that’s the point—this is what ceding control looks like when it’s done voluntarily. I want him to read my body, which is what he wants as well. It’s the ultimate exercise in trust, but I realize he’s trusting me, too. By showing me what he does behind closed doors, he’s showing me his shadow side, the part he’d never admit in Bar Marueco surrounded by his friends. It’s something he’d never discuss with anyone else close to him, but it’s part of him nonetheless.

  And I fall for him even more. It’s not logical, but I adore that he’s doing this. That he’s showing me himself. That he’s restraining me and spanking me.

  He smacks my butt, and I feel and hear his hand hitting my ass again. Slap. I gasp. Again. Slap. It stings. The other side. Crack. I wince and recover. The pain is minor, and the pleasure so much more. Each time, my flesh reverberates like the waves that form when a stone’s thrown in a pond. I’m wiggling. I’m now testing the limits. Straining on the handcuffs. I’d succumbed to them before, but now I’m pulling on them.

  Do I want out?

  His breath meets my back and what was once an ice cube is now his tongue.

  Hell no, I don’t want out. I want in. I want him in me.

  Tavo caresses my back, exploring, licking and kissing his way down my body. Taking his time. I feel he’s watching me and paying attention to the flickers of my body, because when I like something, he stays.

  “While dinner was wonderful, you taste better,” he murmurs.

  I’ve never felt more attended to. His fingers are light but have an intentional pressure. He’s feeling his way down my body, around, getting to know it better. As he makes his way down my spine and across my back with his mouth, he spreads my cheeks and licks the part of me that no one ever has.

  And fuck, it feels good. Intimate. Amazing. He swirls his tongue around and I writhe. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or not, but I’m loving it. His tongue moves down until he’s kneeling with his face between my thighs, licking my newly bare bits. The tension builds. The feeling gets better and better.

  I lean into his face. I’m getting into it. I’m feeling the swelling between my legs, the blood rushing, the sensations heightening—

  And he pulls away.

  Seventeen

  Tavo - Vainilla

  “Nooooooo!” Kim whimpers and squirms against the handcuffs. “Why’d you stop?”

  Stepping back in the semidarkness of the flickering candlelight, my eyes absorb her as she’s flawlessly bent over my table. Arms spread. Chained helplessly to my bed, entrusting me with her care—and pleasure. Feet planted wide apart on the ground. Tantalizing in every way.

  She’s given me power, and she’s letting me have my fantasy—which is to give her her fantasy. I’m not taking this offering lightly. I’m basking in her gift, drawing out this time with her, loving not only every minute, but every fraction of a second.

  Having her in my bedroom makes my heart soar up to the clouds, become one with the atmosphere and evaporate into the heavens. It’s not just that I can barely believe she’s letting me have my way with her—it’s also that I’ve kept these parts of me secret from so many. The sexually adventurous part. The part that wants to enjoy the sweet agony of the tease. And the part that desires to find every erogenous zone of her body and make it thrum.

  Letting these parts out to play is a freedom I’ve never experienced and had almost given up on—especially in my world of obligations and promises.

  More than just my fantasy, though, it’s the fact that it’s Kim.

  In such a short period of time, she’s become my vault where I keep my innermost self. She knows how much my music means to me, all my wishes for the future, and the ties to home. Despite being surrounded by friends and family all my life—in the bars, at the dinner table, in class—I’ve never trusted anyone more than her. I’ve never felt closer to a single person than I do to her. I’m falling for her so hard it’s like I’m at the bottom of the gorge in Ronda looking up—I’ll never get out.

  Before I answer her, my gaze lingers over the shapely, but uninterrupted line of her body extending from her leg to her shoulders.

  It doesn’t hurt that she’s so fucking beautiful, either.

  I want to make her feel sacred.

  Or desecrated.

  That’s certainly what my hard dick thinks. Keeping my pants on is the only way I’m preventing myself from being already inside her.

  But I want this tension. And so does she, judging by the way she fidgets. Up on tiptoes and down again. Shaking her arms. Popping her calf muscles out as she wiggles her ass.

  I wipe away sweat on my brow, and my words are so low they’re almost silent. “Cálmate. This is your dream.” My words also remind me that I’ve yearned for this interval, this mindfuck, since my now-weeping erection doesn’t like to be rejected.

  “What about my dream?” Kim strains against the handcuffs, and I put my hand on her back to soothe her—and to keep myself from rubbing against her.

  “Like me, you want suspense.” The tips of my rough fingers make her back twitch and vibrate.

  “Yes …” She waits for me to say more.

  “This is me giving it to you.”

  I step back.

  The whimpering noise that comes out of her bewitching mouth is so distracting, so satisfying, my thoughts scatter on the floor. I pick up the thought of gratitude that she’s not just letting me have my fetish, it’s hers too. Pride that she’s mine. Nervousness that I can make this as good for her as I hope it will be. And determination that no matter what, I’ll see it through until she’s fulfilled and spent.

  I come back to her and trace my finger down her neck, between her ear and her shoulder, very slowly. She tilts her neck into my finger, and I kiss the exposed part of her neck like a vampire. “You give me your most tender parts,” I whisper. “I intend to repay that trust with as much satisfaction as you can bear.”

  Vigorously, she nods.

  “How are you doing? Want to move?”

  “Yes,” she whispers. “I want to hold you.”

  I need skin to skin contact, too. With a tug, I strip
off my shirt, grab the key, and unlock her, leaving the handcuffs on the bed. Once she’s free, she stands straight, and I kiss and massage each wrist in turn. Moving suddenly, she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me, plundering my mouth with her tongue. I raid her mouth right back. Although I know I taste of her, she doesn’t seem to care, and I like it.

  With her mouth still on mine, I scoop her up in my arms and take her to my bed, laying her down. I step back.

  She looks up at me with those hazel eyes, which are now dark and deep. “What?”

  I shake my head, suppressing a grin.

  “What are you doing, Tavo?”

  “Enjoying the view.” My finger follows along her jawline, and she lifts up her chin.

  Her plump lips curl into a pretty, but knowing smile. “What are we going to do next?” She scans the room, casting about for my next move—which gives me the idea. I find the blindfold we bought the other night and place it over her eyes with care. She lies so still as I do it, but I can feel her excitement in my bloodstream.

  “Is this comfortable over your eyes?”

  “Yes.”

  And again, I’m taking in her body—the fact that she’s so wet I can smell it. That she’s so gorgeous, and she’s really in my bed. That she’s as open to play as anyone I’ve ever met.

  That she’s mine.

  My heart swells. Other parts do, too—impossibly. “Before I find the ribbons, lie on your front,” I say.

  She turns over, letting me see her bubble butt, her nipped-in waist, her side-boob. I take a bottle of olive oil, last year’s still-green vintage, and rub some between my hands, then begin to give her a full-body massage. My hands are scratchy, I know, but the oil smooths it over, and I monitor the pressure. Not too much. Not too little. I listen to her body with mine. After I make my way down her arms and back and along her legs, I slip my hands between them.

  And rub. I play with her clitoris, watching the way her hips move, the way she tilts into my hand. It’s bare and soft and lubed and quivering. I’m feeling the heat, the pressure, the changes as she gets more and more engorged with blood. More and more turned on. Like my guitar, I strum her body, bringing out the music, creating something new.