CHAPTER 19
THE DANGER OF HAVING HER CLOSE
Lidia
The rain keeps falling as if the sky wanted to drown us both, but here, under the wooden roof of the bungalow, the world has shrunk to just the two of us.
Barbara stands in front of me, soaked to the bone.
Her white T-shirt clings to her chest, tracing every curve, every ragged breath.
Her dark hair falls in heavy strands across her face, and the water slides down her cheeks, down her neck, down to the collarbone peeking out from beneath the neckline of her shirt.
Her lips are parted, and her eyes… God, her eyes.
There is something in them that is no longer just tenderness or fear.
It is hunger. A hunger that has been dormant for years and that now, after this conversation, this run in the rain, and all the memories we’ve unearthed, awakens suddenly.
I feel the same. My wet clothes cling to my skin, cold on the outside and burning on the inside.
I feel my nipples hard against the fabric, my pulse throbbing between my legs, and a heat rising from my belly to my throat.
It’s been two years since I last touched her.
Two years of divorce, of silence, of pretending that what we had was just a closed chapter.
But here we are. And I can’t take it anymore.
I take a step toward her. Just one. The wooden floor creaks beneath my soaked sneakers.
“Lidia…” she whispers, her voice hoarse, broken.
I don’t let her finish. I can’t. I throw myself at her mouth like someone diving into the sea after years on the shore.
Our lips collide urgently, without tenderness at first, with that visceral need that has been burning us the whole walk.
Her mouth is cold from the rain and hot on the inside; it tastes of salt and of her, of the Barbara I knew and never forgot.
I moan against her lips without realizing it, and she responds with a low, deep sound that vibrates in my chest.
Her hands move up to my face, holding my cheeks tightly, as if she’s afraid I’ll slip away again.
I grab her waist, pulling her against me.
Our wet bodies press together, the damp fabric rustling between us, and I feel her breasts against mine, hard, trembling.
The kiss deepens. Our tongues meet, entwine, explore each other desperately.
It’s been years since I kissed her like this, and damn it, it’s as if time has stopped and sped up at the same time.
“I’ve missed you so much…” she murmurs against my mouth when we pull apart for a second to breathe.
Her words pierce me. I gently bite her lower lip, tugging on it, and she gasps. My hands slide down her back, gliding over her wet T-shirt, until they reach the curve of her ass. I squeeze it, pulling her closer to me, and I feel her hips move instinctively, seeking friction.
“Barbara…” I whisper, and my voice sounds so desperate I barely recognize it.
We don’t stop. The kiss becomes slower, more intense, more deliberate.
Now we savor it. Now we explore. My tongue traces her upper lip, then travels down her neck, licking the raindrops still sliding down it.
She tilts her head back, offering me her throat, and moans my name.
Her hands slip under my dress, pulling it up over my bare thighs, digging her nails into me with that mix of tenderness and desperation that has always been so hers.
“Let’s go inside,” she says between gasps, without pulling away completely. “My bungalow is right here.”
I nod without a word. We stumble forward, never stopping our touch.
I kiss her neck while she searches for the key in the pocket of her shorts, which now weigh twice as much from the water.
She opens the door and we stumble inside.
The bungalow is dimly lit, illuminated only by the gray light streaming through the window and the constant sound of rain pounding against the structure.
She shuts the door with a push, and we stand there, looking at each other again.
Water drips from us onto the light-colored wooden floor, forming puddles at our feet.
“You look beautiful like this,” she says, her voice deeper than usual. “Soaked, with your eyes shining… Damn it, Lidia, I don’t know how I managed to go so long without this.”
I move closer again. I pull her T-shirt over her head in one swift motion.
The damp fabric resists a little, but falls to the floor with a soft thud.
Her breasts are free, perfect, her nipples dark and hard from the cold and from desire.
I lean down and take one into my mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder.
She moans loudly, arching her back, and her hands tangle in my wet hair.
“God… yes…” she whispers.
Meanwhile, my fingers move down to the button on her shorts.
I unbutton them, unzip them, and slide them down her hips along with her panties.
Everything falls to the floor. She stands completely naked before me, her skin glistening with water, with those curves I know by heart—curves that have changed a little over the years but remain perfect to me.
My hands trace her thighs, moving up her hips, and she trembles beneath my touch.
“Take your clothes off,” she asks, almost pleading. “I want to see you. I want to feel all of you.”
I obey. I slip off my dress with trembling hands, and when I’m completely naked, she stares at me for a second as if she wants to commit every detail to memory.
Then she gently pushes me toward the large bed that occupies the center of the bungalow.
I fall backward onto the mattress, and she climbs on top of me, straddling me.
Her warm skin against mine, cold from the rain, is a sensation that makes me moan.
We kiss again, this time more slowly, savoring our reunion.
Her breasts brush against mine, her hard nipples graze my skin, and I lift my hips, seeking contact.
I feel her wetness against my thigh, and it drives me wild.
I haven’t felt this in years—haven’t felt her like this—and desire burns inside me.
“I need to touch you,” I murmur against her mouth. “I’ve been dreaming about this for so long…”
I slide my hand between us and find her slippery, hot, swollen.
My fingers glide easily between her folds, and she lets out a long, deep moan that sends shivers down my spine.
I start moving them slowly, drawing circles around her clitoris, then sliding down toward her entrance.
She moves against my hand with gentle movements at first, then more urgently.
“Lidia… fuck… like that…” she gasps, her voice breaking.
I slide two fingers inside her carefully, feeling her tighten around me.
She’s so wet it’s slippery. My thumb keeps caressing her clit in slow circles while my fingers slide in and out at a rhythm I know drives her wild.
She leans forward, resting her hands on either side of my head, and her breasts hover right above my face.
I kiss them, lick them, gently bite one of her nipples while I keep fingering her.
Her moans fill the air around us, mingling with the sound of the rain. She moves faster, seeking more depth, more pressure. I feel her inner walls contract around my fingers and I know she’s close.
“Don’t stop… please…” she begs, and that word on her lips makes me feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time.
I pick up the pace, curling my fingers right where I know it drives her wild.
She throws her head back and comes with a muffled cry, trembling on top of me, squeezing my fingers tightly.
I feel every contraction, every wave of pleasure that washes over her, and I don’t stop moving until she collapses onto my chest, breathing heavily.
But we’re not done. Not by a long shot.
I turn her over carefully, and now I’m the one on top.
I spread her legs with mine and move down her body, kissing every inch of skin: the valley between her breasts, her flat stomach, the curve of her hips.
When I reach between her legs, I look up at her.
Her eyes are half-closed, her cheeks flushed, her hair tousled on the pillow.
“I want to taste you,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I want to feel you in my mouth after so long.”
I don’t wait for an answer. I lower my head and run my tongue over her center, slowly, savoring her.
She’s sweet, hot, and the taste drives me wild.
She moans loudly and her hands tangle in my hair again, guiding me.
I lick her clitoris in circular motions, then suck on it gently, varying the pressure.
I slide my tongue inside her and she arches, pushing against my mouth.
“Shit… Lidia… yes… just like that…”
I devour her hungrily, intensely. My fingers join my mouth, two again, sliding in and out while my tongue keeps working on her clit.
I feel her tense up again, her thighs trembling around my head.
When she comes for the second time, she does so screaming my name, clenching the sheets with her fists, and I keep licking her slowly, prolonging her pleasure until she goes limp, breathing in gasps.
I climb on top of her again and we kiss. This time the kiss is gentler, more tender, filled with everything we haven’t said to each other in years. Our hands intertwine above her head and our bodies move together, seeking friction, seeking more.
“Now you,” she whispers against my mouth. “I want to make you feel the same.”
She turns me over easily and positions herself between my legs.
Her fingers gently part me, and her mouth descends.
When her tongue touches my clitoris for the first time in so long, I think I’m going to explode.
I moan loudly, arching my back, and she smiles against my skin.
She licks me patiently, knowingly, remembering exactly how I like it.
She slides two fingers inside while her mouth sucks, and I lose track of time.
All that exists is her tongue, her fingers, her hot breath against me.
I come hard, trembling, screaming her name, and she doesn’t pull away until the last spasm runs through me. Then she climbs on top of me and hugs me, our sweaty bodies, still damp from the rain, mingling on the bed.
We stay like that for a long while, breathing together, listening to the rain still falling outside. Her hand slowly caresses my back, tracing circles that relax me and turn me on at the same time.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” I whisper against her chest. “But right now… right now, this is all I want.”
She kisses my forehead, then my lips, gently.
“Then stay,” she replies. “Stay tonight. And tomorrow… we’ll see.”
I close my eyes, feeling her warmth, her scent, her presence after so many years. The rain keeps falling, but inside the bungalow it’s just the two of us, naked, entwined, and for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t seem so far away or so impossible.