Lasts

by C. L. Matthews

  “What’s the name for the reservation?” she asks him in a sugary tone, still avoiding my presence.

  Sy peers at me, his eyes dancing in mischief. He winks at me before looking back at the lady.

  “Esparza. Leia and Silas Esparza,” he enunciates.

  My heart gallops in my chest. He said Leia Esparza. The sound of it is too enticing.

  “My wife and I are on our honeymoon.”

  I try and control my excitement by biting my lip but can barely hold it in.

  She finally glances at me, the envy in her bitter eyes apparent.

  “Room three-fourteen,” she says sharply, handing him a little pamphlet and scan card.

  He turns to me with a big smile as we head to our room.

  Our room.

  A room where we will spend the next three days together. Three days of just us.

  This can’t be real.

  When we get to our room, the bags are already in place on the end of the bed. We unpack in silence. After we’re settled in, I’m still reeling over how this turned out, how I decided to just go with Sy and not question the fact that I shouldn’t be doing this.

  “I’m going to shower, and then we’ll go to the pool or something,” he mentions with a smile. He’s lighthearted. It’s odd to me, seeing him carefree in any sense.

  He hops into the shower, and I’m stuck here wondering if I should be brave and follow him or stay in the safety of the room. He wants me for three days. That means sex, right?

  Fuck fear.

  Making a quick disposal of my clothes, I walk slowly into the bathroom. When I get nearer, I hear grunting and a slick slap-like sound. My face flames, and my core aches for an orgasm. It hasn’t even been a day yet. Our fun time had been cut short when my dad had showed up, so I didn’t get off.

  “Fuck, Leia,” he growls.

  My heart races. Wanting him to be moaning my name from my actions, not his, I grip the curtain with newfound bravery. Inside, I see Sy jacking himself furiously, like he’s angry with his dick. And, god, it’s so hot. I’m sure I’m wet at the sight of this towering man, his hard abs, thick and toned legs, and steel rod of a cock.

  His gray eyes meet mine in shame. I can see it.

  “Let me help you,” I offer, stepping into the shower.

  The cold water hits my body painfully. At first, it shocks me, but I adjust quickly, my body flaming from my view. My nipples are hard, and Silas hasn’t looked away from them.

  “I didn’t want to start our trip with me taking advantage of you,” he admits, his voice sad. It’s almost like he’s disgusted that he’s insatiable. His eyes are so sincere and full of shame. “I shouldn’t want you this much.”

  “I’m glad you do,” I say, taking his face into my hands.

  I cup his strong jaw, feeling the stubble with my thumbs. I’ve loved this man since I was thirteen, lusted after him since then, too. Neither the love or lust waned. No matter how fucked up it is, I can’t seem to stop myself.

  His strong arms turn us, pushing me back against the shower wall, my legs wrapping around him in habit. He crushes his mouth against mine, both of our moans vibrating within our kiss. My tongue teases his, flicking in every which way, and he nips at me, taunting me right back.

  “I need you,” I barely get out as he’s impaling me on his cock.

  “Goddammit,” he groans, sliding in and out of me with ease.

  I feel each rib of him inside me. Each time he pushes, it feels like a euphoria I’ve missed. He’s pushing in leisurely, his hips and thrusts soft and long. His abs clench with every roll, and his chest heaves in tandem.

  “You’re perfection, mi corazoncito,” he confesses, adjusting so he can move hair out of my eyes.

  I tighten around him, my heart sailing as my body’s high is almost at its peak. This is the softest sex we’ve ever had, the gentlest he’s ever been with me. Times like these makes me feel loved, and without him admitting it, I’m doubtful it’s real. Todo en mi cabeza. All in my head.

  When I peer into his eyes, it’s almost as if he realizes it, too. His entire demeanor shifts, his face morphing into an emotion I can’t decipher. Instead of being gentle, he’s jackhammering into me, and his hips smack me with a force that I crave, too. It’s not softness I desire. It’s his hardness. It’s less confusing this way. This is fucking. This I understand. It protects my heart better. When he’s rough, it’s more difficult to be consumed by a man who can never be mine.

  His hand rises up my stomach, cupping my breasts, trailing up to my throat where they belong. There’s not many times where his hands don’t find their mark.

  His one palm grips my throat while the other continues to touch me. It trails down my stomach to my hips. When he makes it to my pussy, he flicks my clit, causing me to squirm. As he pinches it harder, a scream escapes me.

  “You like that, my little heart?” he grunts, his voice husky and ragged. “You like when I touch your cunt? When I fuck you and take what’s mine?”

  He leans his forehead against mine, our chests heaving in sync. He circles my clit roughly, forcing an orgasm from me. My stomach aches with the force, but still, he fucks me like it’s his last dying wish.

  “Tell me, tell me you like my big cock in that tight, little hole,” he demands, his breathing labored.

  “Yes,” I pant, my legs aching from squeezing him so tight.

  His left hand trails my ass, and he squeezes. It slowly reaches its target, and his forefinger rubs slow circles against my asshole. He tips my chin, the fierceness in his gaze one I can’t deny.

  “Yes, what?” he commands as he hits my g-spot.

  I moan loudly, unsure of what he’s asking. My eyebrows hike up, confusion overtaking the momentary bliss between my legs.

  “Use that dirty little mouth, mi corazoncito, the one you tease me with by calling me Daddy.”

  His voice is deliriously sexy. A hymn in a church, a lullaby late at night, a fucking symphony played only for me. Does he not realize how he unnerves me with his thick accent?

  “I-I…” I stumble over my words. When Sy’s buried deep inside of me, it’s hard to concentrate.

  “Why can’t I resist you?” he interrupts my skittering thoughts. His voice is small, almost like he wishes he had answers that I can’t give. “Why do you make me want to be a better man, one who deserves you? Yet, I want to fuck you like an unhinged prisoner until this addiction goes away.” His finger penetrates my tight hole, and it sends me over the edge again. “When will this ache go away, mi cielo?”

  “Fuck!” I screech. My pussy pulses and aches, exhausted from the onslaught. “Sy!”

  “One day, I’ll fuck you here,” he promises all while fingering my ass, “and you’ll love it.”

  His hips smack against me as the water rains over us. He jerks right before I feel his hot heat emptying inside of me. It’s something I’ll never get used to, something I crave and can’t imagine not having. When it leaks down my thighs like hot sin, my stomach clenches. Does he fuck my mom without condoms?

  My heart deflates with suspicion. Goddammit.

  “Get off,” I mumble, my voice defeated. I want to shove him away and pretend he didn’t tell me he fucked her last year.

  “You’re the one on my cock,” he corrects.

  I shimmy, hoping he gets the memo and lets me down. I can’t be in here with him. Can’t imagine him with my mom and all the other woman he fucked—and the possibility of him not using condoms. At this rate, I’m going to get pregnant or get an STD. Shit, this needs to stop.

  “Are you going to tell me what just happened?” he prods, lifting me and then letting me down.

  “I can’t do this,” I whisper, turning to leave.

  I’m not entirely sure of what I’m saying. No, I’m sure. I don’t want to let him go yet. You’d think after all the pain, I’d be smarter. Obviously, that’s not the case.

  Sy turns me back to him, his eyes analyzing me. He wipes the water from his eyes then
runs a hand through his wet locks. “Do what, exactly?”

  “Keep fucking you without condoms, fucking you in general. You’re married, remember?”

  He closes his eyes, squeezing them so tight that I want to stop him. It can’t be comfortable.

  Why do I want to comfort him when he’s the source of my undoing, the source of all my fucked-upness?

  “What if I get pregnant, Sy? What the fuck are we supposed to do then?” I cry, my stomach hollowing out at the narrative.

  “That pretty mouth is going to get you in trouble,” he bites, baring his teeth.

  “Really,” I groan.

  He puts his hands up in surrender, “I do not know. Watch you grow our child and look fucking sexy while doing it? Be a beautiful mamá, and raise that child to be at least half the woman you are…”

  “Do you not hear yourself?” I yell, interrupting him. “YOU’RE FUCKING MARRIED! To my mother no less! We can’t do this. As much as I want three days to be yours, and as much as I want to come around your dick as many times as possible, we can’t.”

  “Yes, we can,” he growls, hauling me back up, stuffing his already hard cock in me. He thrusts, my head softly hitting the back of the shower. Smack. Thrust. Smack. “You. Are. Mine.” He jerks into me continuously, making me throb. My body hums with satisfaction while my mind battles the emotions. Get me off this rollercoaster. How can something so wrong feel so goddamn right? It shouldn’t, but it does. I feel complete with him inside of me.

  “Sy,” I reprimand on a moan, my pussy gripping harder with each thrust. “This is wrong.” I push against him, but he just comes back with a bite and growl.

  “Three days.Tú. Eres. Mía. You are mine. Three fucking days is all you have to give me. Okay?” he nearly begs, and my heart pounds in victory.

  I shouldn’t say yes, I shouldn’t agree. But as his cock jerks inside me, his cum filling me again, I fall into it.

  “Okay,” I submit breathlessly. I’m going to lose myself after these three days, nothing good will come of us pretending this will last. I’m now seeing that.

  Lasts are only an illusion, no one will truly be your last everything, especially when they won’t give everything up for it. He was my first, but he’ll never be my last, not when he’s not even my now.

  Perception.

  The way you kill me.

  And how I take it all, knowing the damage.

  Because what I take from it makes the lesson worthwhile.

  He’ll never give everything up to be mine, and I am weak and immature to see it any other way.

  Sy pulls out of me, and then he’s falling to his knees. He hikes my leg over his shoulder, holding my ass with his left arm. With his other hand, he holds open my folds and starts licking from my hole to my clit in long and languid strokes. Swirling his tongue, he has me shaking with lust. My body can’t handle this many sensations. Every lick makes me cry out.

  “Oh, Sy,” I moan, my hands gripping his head.

  I shove his face closer, wanting the bite of his teeth against my sensitive skin. He nips, licks, and sucks until I’m a weak and whimpering mess. The shower water drenches him, making me worry for his breathing.

  That thought flees when his hand finds my asshole again and plays with it. While his finger penetrates me from behind, his mouth slurps and grinds against my front. There’s nothing sexier than a man who takes what he wants, but a man who’s left his seed behind and still licks my pussy after, that man is a keeper.

  But he’ll never let me keep him.

  The shower has long frozen my skin, but I don’t feel cold at all. The heat of us fucking is too hot for this shower to cool us. The mixture of both overwhelming warmness and freezing cold water is intoxicating in its overwhelming-ness.

  Pulling his head back a little, he stares up at me. “Come for me, mi corazoncito. Scream for me.”

  When his mouth wraps around my clit one last time, I do. The release is so intense that I’m shaking from head to toe, barely able to keep myself from falling. He licks me until my legs give out and twitch from the motion. He stops with a chuckle. He’s the only thing keeping me up.

  “Bien, niñita,” he praises, lowering me to my feet.

  He stands, soaping up his hands, lathering me up, and cleaning me. His lips brush mine, soft, gentle, and caring. It’s a side of him I’ll never get used to. It’s like he’s emotionally invested with me, but as soon as he realizes it, he backs off. He might hate how sweet he can be, but I soak that shit up every time it’s offered.

  Because I’m stupid and madly in love with him.

  I’m getting emotional whiplash, but I’ll keep taking it. In my heart, I know it won’t last.

  We won’t last.

  I’m just counting down the days ‘til the end.

  Love isn’t measured in age.

  It’s not even measured in time.

  It’s unexplainable.

  And that’s what makes it beautiful.

  Even if it only lasts these few days, I’ll live forever knowing this was our moment, our little glimpse of love. He may never say those three words, but his soul whispers to me each time we connect, and that’ll have to be enough.

  “Mierda!” I yell, gripping my head in defeat. He knew. He knew I’d go searching for Silv. He knew I’d go to the man I love.

  How, though? What led him to believe I’d be involved with him?

  Zaely, Silv, and I are super subtle when around one another. We keep looks, grazes, and affection to the bedroom we share.

  Either way, I’ll have to pay for abandoning my post, for betraying the crew for him. I’m not sure what it’s going to cost me, but I’m prepared to pay the price. Anything for him. Anything for them.

  I head back to my house to watch out for my sisters. Three more days pass without a word. This gives me the conclusion that Danté is the reason, and whenever he gets out, I’m fucked.

  Instead of calling beforehand, I pick up Silv, kiss him feverishly, and then head to his home. He wants to see Zaely immediately.

  As I drive, he turns to me, a forlorn grimace on his face. I want to kiss it away, to assuage that expression and give him a new one, a happier, more carefree one.

  “How did he find out?” Silv asks, his brows drawn together, wrinkling his forehead.

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” I grumble, not wanting to discuss the implications.

  If there’s a chance in hell, Danté will take his fury out on him, I’m not risking it. I’ll always protect Silv.

  “No clue? What aren’t you telling me, amante?” Lover.

  Shivers overtake me at that name, he only uses it in order to get what he wants, usually in the bedroom. I feel myself aching, my pants getting tighter. It’s like he knows before seeing himself. He reaches over the center console, massaging my thigh before rubbing my erection.

  “N-Nothing,” I breathe out, stumbling over the word.

  “Quiero que estés dentro de mi,” he groans in my ear, his voice husky. I want you inside of me. His breath and the barely there touch of his lips has me disoriented already.

  I’m dizzy with lust. It’s been weeks since we’ve fucked and longer since I’ve been inside of him.

  My foot hits the gas a little too hard, and I nearly hit the back end of another vehicle.

  “Te deseo,” he purrs, like I’m not already close to busting a nut, simply from his hands. I want you.

  He continues his ministrations, driving me insane until we arrive at his place.

  “Go inside. Make sure no one is around. If you don’t poke your head out, I’ll know it’s clear,” he says, giving me one last squeeze and a quick kiss.

  In response, I give him a you need be careful glare. We’re out in the open.

  “Entiendo.”

  “Bien.”

  As soon as I get out and open the door, I’m bombarded with limbs.

  “Sy!” Zaely squeals jumping into my arms.

  Danté’s not out yet, so everything’s safe, for
now. Silv is okay, for now. He’s healing. And Zaely doesn’t know it yet, but he’s waiting for her… for us to reunite. Outside.

  “I was so worried about you and Silv. I’m just so grateful you’re both okay,” she cries.

  Tears of relief and happiness stream down her beautiful cheeks. I swipe at them, holding her close to me for a moment longer before going to get Silv.

  They don’t know that I can understand their love for each other. At first, it made me rage in jealousy that I wasn’t theirs and only theirs. They are and will always be each other’s first.

  Silv is too stuck in his head to realize it, but Zaely does even if she doesn’t fully understand it yet. I’ve come to accept that I won’t be their last, and one day, I hope they see their love for one another and accept it. That they’ll be their own lasts.

  They’re not sick.

  They’re not broken.

  They don’t need fixing or help. They’re special.

  They’re different, and that’s what makes them unique.

  All they need is to open their minds and to stop allowing labels and boundaries clog their love.

  Until then, I’ll enjoy the music we make with our bodies, the way I play their bodies as my own instruments, strumming them softly or roughly depending on whichever chord needs hitting. They’re beautiful. They’re harmony. They’re everything symmetrical, and I’ve been blessed enough to see them in their transcendence. Maybe I’ll be able to watch them rise and conquer their fear and the stereotypes, labels, and hatred from people accustomed to the social norm.

  I want that for them, and I love them enough to let them go. Whenever they're ready, I'll set them free.

  I let her go and make my way to the door. On the other side, the other love of my life waits all beaten and strained. I open it up to his disheveled raggedness. He’s perfection.

  His eyes rake my frame slowly, and when our eyes meet—his deliciously green, mine gray—he bites his lip. My cock is already hardening in my shorts, and the ache to have him again is extraneous.

  Zaely bounds past me and into his arms in the next second.