22. Gabriela
Chapter 22
Gabriela
C overed in Joaquín’s cum, my body still tingling with a mix of pleasure and confusion, I find myself on the bedroom floor, my emotions raw and my mind in turmoil. The urge to clean myself off in the adjoining bathroom is strong, but my messed-up head won’t allow it. There’s a sick satisfaction in having him all over me, a twisted reminder of just how much he wants me.
I scramble to my feet, quickly adjusting the skirt of my dress in an attempt to hide my torn tights. The state of my makeup doesn’t concern me; my sole focus is getting to my car. As I make my way out of the bedroom, I hurry through the hall and down the stairs, hoping to slip away unnoticed by Cora or Nat. The last thing I need is Cora stirring up shit with Joaquín, assuming he’s even still here. He did say he was going home too, and I desperately want to believe him.
The front door is in sight, and I’m almost within reach when a firm hand grabs hold of my arm. It’s Natalie—her speech slurred from one too many drinks. “We’ve been looking all over for you!” she exclaims, her words slightly muddled.
Panicking, I blurt out a lie. “Sorry, got caught up in something. Mireya’s care worker called, and I need to get home now. I’ll text you guys.” Without waiting for a response, I bolt out the door, racing towards my car without looking back.
Finally reaching the safety of my vehicle, I collapse into the driver’s seat, my heart pounding. I pull the visor down and look at myself in the mirror. My eyeliner runs down my face, and luckily it looks like it could be part of my costume. The state of my chest is a mess; Joaquín’s cum covers my neck and my cleavage. His name can’t be seen, but I know it’s there. A singular thought goes through my mind as I start the engine and back out of the driveway.
What happens from here?
* * *
It’s twelve thirty when I get home, and I rush past Mireya’s respite worker, Jazmin, when I enter the house, asking her for a few minutes to shower. I’m not normally short with her, but I really don’t need her asking questions. Once in the safety of my room, I toss my bag and phone on the bed and head straight to the adjoining bathroom. Reaching into the shower, I turn the water up full blast and let it run. The steam surrounds me once I step in, hissing at the sting as the water pelts against my chest.
The scent of my lilac and white tea body wash filled the air as I scrubbed my skin raw. Every trace of Joaquín is now off of my skin, and I can’t help the tears that fall. I’m still reeling from him edging me, needing to get off. I really need to get a vibrator if this is going to be a thing he does now, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to take it. My gaze shifts to the removable shower head, and I give in. Setting the water to gentle warmth, I switch the setting to a direct stream. I don’t have time to get off leisurely; I need to come now.
As the water hits my clit, I closed my eyes and let my mind replay Joaquín eating me out. The way his greedy tongue devoured me. I focus on the sensations, trying to find release, wishing it was him between my thighs. My breathing becomes erratic as my thighs tremble, the warmth of the water pulling me closer to release. “ Fuck, fuck, fuck ,” I whisper as the orgasm rips through me. With the steady rhythm of the water beating against my body, I allow myself to surrender to pleasure.
The familiar waves of pleasure crash over me, temporarily numbing the pain and confusion that I’ve been carrying. Everything else fades away, and I’m left with a brief respite from the chaos of my life.
The water loses its warmth, so I reluctantly turn it off and step out of the shower. I wrap myself in a towel, the momentary bliss now gone. This impromptu act of self-pleasure was a desperate attempt to find relief, and while it helped, I’m still left with a yearning for him. One I don’t think I’ll be able to satisfy by myself.
I dry myself off and get dressed, I can’t shake the lingering ache in my heart. The intensity of my desire for Joaquín has only grown stronger, and whatever happened between us at the party is only making me want him more. I need to know what this means, are we going to finally address our feelings?
Making my way back, I join Jazmin in the living room. “Thanks! I appreciate you letting me shower first.” She’s engrossed in her crocheting, but looks up at me to smile.
“Did you have a good time tonight?” I nod, sinking into the armchair across from her. “I’m so glad you felt comfortable enough to go out. It’s important to take breaks, Gabby. You’re still so young, and you have so much life to live.” Jazmin puts her stuff in her bag that sits next to her. “Don’t be afraid to ask me to cover a night shift for another night out. Heck, even a date.” Playfully wiggling her eyebrows at me.
I chuckle. “I’m not sure a date will happen anytime soon. But I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You never know. College is full of possibilities. Well, I’m going to take off, and I’ll see you on Monday morning.”
When she leaves, I’m left alone again, and I find myself unable to escape the thoughts of Joaquín. His touch, his taste, the way he made me feel alive. It’s all I can think about. I try to push the memories aside, to bury them deep within my mind, but they persist, haunting me like a relentless ghost. After locking up the house, I head back to my room and flop onto the bed. Mindlessly scrolling through social media, I get a text from Cora.
Did you get home okay?
Yes, I’m good.
I know that excuse you gave Nat was bullshit. What happened?
Nothing. Are you still with Thiago?
Yeah…
Can you ask him to give you Joaquín’s number for me?
A few minutes go by and a text comes through with an attached number.
Thanks. Tell Thiago that if he doesn’t get you home safe, I’ll kick his ass.
I don’t tell her he helped chase me down at the party. She likes him too much, and even though he goes along with what Joaquín says, he’s never touched me.
I input the number and start a new text message.
What are we now?
Let me guess, Thiago gave Cora my number to give to you? Man, he’s so whipped. I don’t know what we are. There’s still a part of me that hates you.
I can’t help the tears that form in the corners of my eyes. I don’t hate you. In all of this, I’ve never hated him.
But I also want you so fucking much that it hurts. So I don’t know. I know that's not what you want to hear, but that’s all I’ve got.
We’re never going to move on from this.
I meant what I said, though. You’re mine.
Did you end up going home?
You can avoid the truth with other questions all you want. You know you’re mine, Gabriela.
Yeah. I’m home.
He sends me a picture of him lying on what I assume is his bed. He’s shirtless, and I can’t tell if he has bottoms on. I zoom in on the photo, taking in every detail of him. The flecks of amber in his brown eyes, the way his curly hair looks when it’s still a little damp. The perfect fullness of his lips, and I immediately think back to how they felt on my body.
Do I get a picture too?
I roll my eyes and snap a quick picture, angled down of me in my tank top and underwear. My hair’s still wet from my shower, but it’s already waving at the roots. I attached it and hit send.
Already washed me away. Kinda pisses me off, but you being braless and in your panties helps.
Fuck, I’m hard again already. Want me to come over and paint those pretty tits again? Did you end up getting off?
Do I tell him I came in the shower, thinking about his mouth and how his tongue felt? How I wanted it to be him making me come?
No, definitely no.
You did, didn’t you? Tell me, did you get off in the car before you drove home? Or did you wait until you got home?
I’m typing out my response when a notification at the top of the screen shows that he’s video calling me. I bite my lip and consider not answering it. Looking over at the clock, it’s nearing two in the morning, and I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow.
But I don’t have the strength to ignore him.
My finger hovers over the green button, letting out a sigh, and pressing down.
Joaquín’s face and upper body appear on the screen, and I let out a groan as I see his blankets covering his lap. He said he was hard, and I want to see him so badly.
“Tell me how you got off.”
“Why do you care now? You didn’t seem interested in me getting off when you were covering me in your cum, then leaving me there by myself. Maybe I found someone to finish what you started.” The shift in his demeanor is exactly what I was expecting. Anger flares across his face.
“You better be fucking lying. I told you nobody but me touches you.” I watch as he angrily throws the covers off and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing?” I let out an exasperated sigh as he mumbles to himself in Spanish.
“Getting dressed, because I apparently need to go kill someone for touching you.” He sets his phone down, allowing me to watch him get dressed. Joaquín was naked under his covers, his cock still semi-hard as he pulled up a pair of black joggers. He snatches a grey shirt from the floor and pulls it over his sculpted, tattooed chest and stomach. My mouth dries as I sit and watch him, wondering what it would feel like to have him on top of me, inside of me.
“You gonna tell me who, or do I need to come and fuck it out of you?” Snatching the phone from where he propped it up, he licks his lower lip and bites it a little.
My brain: option two... pick option two.
“So you need my address, then.” I sass back at him. “Or are you bluffing?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Gabriela.” He lets out a groan, rolling his eyes.
“Go to bed, Joaquín. You know I didn’t let anyone touch me. I left without washing you off, just like you told me. Your cum stayed on my body until I got home and showered. Then I used my showerhead to make myself come to the thought of you eating me out. You. No one else. There, happy? Good night, asshole.” I hit the end call and tossed my phone next to me.
I get up and turn off all the lights and crawl under the covers, wishing that he was under the covers with me. That will never happen, though. Before I drift off to sleep my phone pings. I groan as I grab it, pulling up the text message.
Goodnight, Hermosa.