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The sky is a lovely azure as night creeps away. I'm snuggled in his jacket when Franco pulls up to the docks in Cabo de Blanco. The scent of him has saturated all over my body from all the dancing we've done. His essence has evaporated into my skin, and found its way into my bloodstream, reaching to my heart. And I want him badly. It's as if we've made love. Each touch while we danced was a promise. The Spanish guitar is still in my ears.
Eyes heavy from lack of sleep, I whimper. "But I didn't want to return. We should've stayed … " I think back for the name of the town, but my mind is muddled, borderline placated, "we should've stayed wherever the hell we just left."
"Says the woman who earlier complained as if she still has a bedtime. No, we had to return. I've gotta show you something, Jelly. But if you'd like, we can go back tonight," he takes my hand, leading me off the boat.
Tonight … This one word holds so much weight, and hope for a future. I'd return with Franco to this world we've made each and every night of my life, all the while dreaming the day away. Sauntering up the pier, I start to do a bit of the flamenco that the gorgeous women taught me. It's as if I'm tipsy, in a state of perpetual bliss, though we stuck to club soda all night long.
Franco turns around. With a smile on his face, he walks backward for a second to enjoy the show, as I claim the pier as my own red carpet. His chiseled contours are even more handsome as he grins while turning away. "I take it you enjoyed yourself, si?"
"Si!" I shout, allowing my hips to hypnotize him as Franco glances back at me once more.
At the end of the dock, Franco says, "now, for the reason why we had to return."
He takes my hand. My bare feet submerge into the cool wet sand. We head in a direction that's even further away from his place and the inn.
As we walk, I tell him, "But you've showed me so much. I don't even think I could tip you enough." Was that just verbal diarrhea? Tip him … Blame it on sleep deprivation and my brain moving in overdrive, but I lick my lips. Hell, I've been doing it all night, wanting one single taste of him. I'd called him a punk but the ball has been in my court to make a move. Who's the punk now?
"Good. Now, you'd think I'd honestly take you out on the town...errr in another town, without showing you the best part in my own neck of the woods? I've saved the best for last, Jelly."
His thumb grazes across my chin. When Franco doesn't scoop me into a kiss, my heart almost combusts. Instead, his thumb guides my face toward the sea. I am instantly blown away by a sight commanding all of my attention.
Sprinkles of gold begin to highlight the dark blue waters. With its beauty, the sun astounds me, too.
"Isn't it a view, si? During each summer, I must've been the first kid up in the morning." He tells me, fingers interweaving with mine. "When you return home to... To your friends, who showed you the best parts of Spain?"
My hip juts out and I bump his, in jest. "Don't be so damn cocky."
"Not cocky. Just confidence." Again I end up in his arms. The touches have been subtle as night blurred into morning. And each moment, Franco's large frame encased mine while we left Cabo de Blanco for the festival, I lost a bit of myself and gained a piece of him. They say that happens during sex. Giving away just a tiny portion of you to a man. As my head lays on the taut plane of Franco's chest, the air filtering through my lungs could never be more clear than this moment. So, unlike with sex, and offering myself to a man, to no return, I just hold onto Franco, and know without a shadow of a doubt that regardless of what happens next, he has, too, gifted me a priceless piece of him.
CHAPTER 18
Franco
THE TORMENT OCCURED all night long. Her soft body just outside of reach when she danced the flamenco. The world's most gorgeous Spanish women were at her side, but all I saw was her. All I know, and want to know, is her. The silk of her skin, the warmth of her, the goodness of Angelique's essence within my grasp as we danced the night away. But I've been strong enough not to take advantage of her. The way her hair just doesn't want to lay down after a good wind has been begging me to tug. My fingers are beginning to ache from holding them in bald fists, and I've already conjured the feeling of taking hold of her dark hair.
As the morning sunrays gust over our skin, I hold Angelique tightly. I beseech Dios, begging Him, Ángelique mantener lejos de mí – Angelique, keep away from me …
Angelique is special, too special for the likes of me. I've only been in love once, and in this day and age puppy love doesn't even make the cut. If I pursue her the way my cock has been begging all night, I'd ruin the one good thing I have going right now. So I pray for this friendship instead.
Evidently the lord is in agreement that Angelique should be mine, because each time I steer the conversation or my touch back to neutral grounds, Angelique's body cries out for me. She burrows her head within the crook of my neck.
Less than a second later, I tell her I'm not cocky but confident while grabbing her jaw line. The warmth of her sweet breath brushes across my lips, so feminine and soft, even before I can kiss her. An urgency torpedoes around us, yet I hold onto resolve. Not allowing my manhood to lead, but a deep desire that's been brewing within the pit of my abdomen washes throughout me.
As our tongues mimic the waves near our feet, give, take, Angelique's legs jump around my waist. That makes my cock strain against my jeans, harder than it's ever been before.
My palms slam down on her ass, squeezing it just enough that she moans. My legs plant wide, ready for her generous ample amount of curves.
A momentary reprieve from those intoxicating lips, has me taking a deep breath of air. And I take control yet again, asking, "Are you sure?"
She whimpers against my lips as I hold her, legs planted wide.
"Jelly, c'mon you gotta call the shots right now." I give her full reign before all the blood from my brain rushes down. My gaze tells her that I really, really enjoy how far we've come. At least I hope, because if I open my mouth again to do anything other than kiss that mouth of hers, it will be because my dick has declared itself executive chef.
"I'm ready," she gasps.
With that, I carry Angelique to the sliding doors that lead into the back of her bungalow.
She pulls the keycard from the pocket of my jacket. One hand still holding Angelique, I free the sliding glass door that leads into her bedroom.
As we step into the room, I can't help put pause, and drink in every portion of Angelique from head to toe. She's got more shape than many women, and only a real man like me can truly satisfy. So my eyes devour this rare jewel which I in no fucking way deserve, as she stands there in her dress. Those pearly teeth of hers scour her bottom lip. I want to ask if Angelique is sure once more, but then I catch her sincere gaze. I step up to her, inhaling a mixture of her sweet perfume and my spicy cologne, the essence of us. I touch the lapel of my blazer, and swiftly pull it from her shoulders. Then, craving the taste of goodness yet again, my mouth takes to the honey in her own. All the while we were out, my mind imagined being with her, my cock searching as I listen intently to her body, decoding the precise spot to caress while digging deep into her tummy.
This rare jewel, which I don't deserve, allows me to undress her, slowly and meticulously. My fingertips blaze across the warmth of Angelique's skin and settle on the sides of her breasts for a moment. Instead of palming those bulbous mounds, those, I will get to soon. I then continue to slide the dress down her curvaceous hips before letting the material land in a heap at her feet.
I rub my face with anticipation. In just a matching pair of light pink bra and short-cut panties, Angelique places her hand over her waist, where there are a few stretchmarks. Mouth curving at the edges, I kneel before her. My lips what she sees as imperfect and my actions in the form of kisses to her waistline let Angelique know that she's exceeded my expectations. I lay my head across her soft stomach, and say, "Angelique, you're more beautiful than you know."
Her fingers go to my hair, twirling around the curls. And though my dick is just about ready to call the shots, I stay there for a while. Then I arise, no words needed because she, in this moment, has become the most striking treasure in the universe.
Fingers tingling with eagerness, I pause, a chef in reflection and prepared for his first taste. It's as if all my scenes but taste have been consumed. Touching her. The sweetness of her scent. And goddamn, the sight of her is everything.
Those breasts, rising and falling within the confines of her bra as Angelique waits. I step behind her, my hand grazing the back of her neck as I push her hair to one side. Angelique's bra snaps, freeing large breasts that make my palms itch for a touch. From behind, I pull her close to me, firmly and intently. Then I look down at those erect nipples, hard and dark brown. I glance across the way at the mirror on the dresser.