The Day Darío Took Out the Belt Out of Jealousy

I got home after eleven, still tasting Bruno in my mouth and feeling loose-bodied, satisfied in that way that makes you walk slowly. Darío was in the living room, the lights low, a beer sweating in his hand. Our eyes met as soon as I crossed the threshold.

I saw the question before he opened his mouth. I saw the complaint clenched in his jaw. But I walked past without saying hello, took the stairs two at a time, and locked the door to my room.

I threw myself onto the bed faceup and breathed. I needed to disconnect from everything, from the weight of his silence, from the beer he wasn’t going to drink. I took out my phone and called Selva on video chat.

She answered on the second ring. The warm light of her apartment wrapped around her completely. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder, her black hair loose, falling over her collarbone, and that slow, lazy smile that always melts me.

—Vera… —she said softly, her voice husky with sleep—. I’ve been wanting to see you so badly.

—I sent you something —I whispered.

I sat up in bed and slowly took off my shirt, looking at myself in the small rectangle of the screen. I knelt on the mattress and took a photo of myself: my heavy breasts, nipples already hard, skin still marked faintly from the morning with Bruno. I sent it without thinking twice.

I heard the message arrive on her end. Selva opened the image and let out a low moan that the speaker sent back to me crystal clear.

—God, Vera… look at you. Those tits drive me crazy —she said, biting her lip—. I want them in my mouth all day. I want to bite them slowly until you beg me.

She took off her T-shirt in one movement. She cupped her breasts with both hands, brought them close to the camera, and pinched her nipples without taking her eyes off me. I felt the heat drop suddenly to my belly.

—Now touch yourself for me —she asked, her voice getting lower and lower—. I want to see you enjoy yourself.

I pulled down my underwear and lay back with my legs open in front of the phone propped against the pillow. I started slowly, two fingers brushing my clit in lazy circles, stretching out the waiting. Then I slid my fingers inside, unhurried, and let out her name in a sigh.

—Like that, slow —she murmured, and I saw her hand disappearing between her own legs—. Imagine it’s my tongue. That I’m licking you slowly, sucking your clit while I squeeze your tits. Imagine me there.

I sped up. I sank my fingers deeper, searching for that spot that steals my breath. She was doing the same on the other end, the image trembling slightly with the movement of her body, her broken breathing coming in ragged bursts through the speaker.

—I want to come with you —she said, her eyes fixed on the screen—. Tell me you’re thinking about my mouth.

—Your mouth… your tongue… Selva, I’m going to come —I moaned, arching my back against the mattress.

We came almost at the same time. Me shaking all over, a hot wave rushing through me as I repeated her name like a prayer. She bit her lip, her body trembling, moaning low and long until she went still.

We stayed there panting, smiling at each other across the miles.

—When I’m back in the city I’m going to eat you out for hours —she promised before hanging up—. Keep that in mind.

I lay there for a while staring at the ceiling. My body relaxed, yes, but my head was a tight knot that no orgasm could untie. Downstairs Darío was still there with his lukewarm beer and his unanswered question. I pictured him sitting there, turning over the scene of my arrival in his head, and felt something like guilt that dissolved almost immediately. We’d been clear from the start. Or so I thought.

***

The next day he couldn’t take it anymore.

He walked into my room without knocking, turned the key in the lock behind him, and stood there looking at me, arms crossed, his shirt still marked from the workday.

—One day you tell me this isn’t serious, that it’s just fun —he began, holding his voice in check—. And the next I see you come in smelling like someone else and you don’t even say hello. Is that how the game works now?

I sat up in bed and crossed my arms to imitate him, hiding a smile.

—You said it, Darío. “It’s not serious” —I reminded him, emphasizing every word—. So tell me why you’re getting jealous.

He came closer slowly, unhurried, measuring each step. His jaw was tight. Without taking his eyes off me, he yanked his jeans belt open, and the leather cracked when he folded it in half in his fist.

—Because even if I say it’s not serious —he answered, dropping his voice almost to a murmur—, I can’t stand the idea of someone else touching you.

He grabbed my arm and turned me against the wall without violence, but without giving me a choice. He pulled down my shorts and underwear in one motion, to my thighs. I felt his open hand before I heard it: the first slap landed hard on my ass, firm, measured, right on the edge where the sting starts to feel good.

—Stay still —he ordered quietly.

Then came the belt. He brought it down three times folded, one after another, not hard enough to truly hurt me, but enough for my skin to burn and glow red. I pressed my cheek against the cold wall and let the heat climb up my back.

—Hands behind you —he said.

I obeyed. I brought my wrists together at my waist and he tied them with the same belt, not tight, just enough so I couldn’t pull free. The sensation of not being able to move left me breathless for a second.

He turned me around again to face him. He lifted my shirt over my breasts and stood looking at me, as if deciding where to begin.

—These are mine these days too —he muttered.

He lowered his head and bit. Not gently. Firm bites, his mouth closing around my nipple, sucking hard, leaving a trail of reddish marks that made me moan between pain and desire. And when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he would slowly run his tongue over each mark, soothing it, kissing, licking, until the pain became something else.

He pulled back for a moment, opened the drawer of my nightstand, and took out two clips like the ones I use to hang underwear. He opened them in front of me, looking me in the eyes, asking permission without words. I didn’t look away. He put them on my nipples, one and then the other. The pinch was intense, a current that shot through me, but bearable. I moaned louder than I wanted to.

—My wife comes back in two weeks —he said against my neck, his voice rough, urgent—. Two weeks, Vera. I want to make the most of every second. I want you to remember me when I can’t do this to you anymore.

He bent me over the edge of the bed, my face against the mattress and my hands still tied behind my back. He spread my legs with his knee and entered me in one thrust, deep, without asking permission. He fucked me possessively, one hand digging into my hip and the other tugging just a little on the clips, just enough for every thrust to rip a sharper moan from me.

Every pull lit me up. The sting in my ass, the pressure on my nipples, his fingers marking my hip, all of it blended into one thing that drove me to the edge. He pounded into me as if he knew his time was running out, with that urgency of someone counting the days.

—Tell me it’s mine these days —he demanded in my ear.

—It’s yours… all yours, Darío —I gasped, and it was true as I said it.

I came hard, shaking all over, clenching around him until he growled. He held on a little longer, fingers sinking into my skin, and came after me with my name stuck in his throat, emptying into me until I felt flooded.

We stayed like that for a moment, his chest rising and falling against my back, both of us wordless.

Then he removed the clips with a care that contrasted with everything before, blowing gently over each nipple to calm the tingling. He untied my wrists, turned me around, and held me tightly against his chest. He kissed my forehead, my hair, my temple, murmuring things I couldn’t quite make out.

—Stay with me these days —he whispered, and for the first time it didn’t sound like an order—. Please.

I looked him in the eyes, still panting, my skin burning in three different places and a strange calm settling in my chest.

—These two weeks, just us —I told him slowly, so there’d be no doubt—. Whatever you want. But when your wife comes back, it’s over. I don’t want drama, Darío. I don’t want promises you’re not going to keep.

He nodded against my hair, still holding me, as if he wanted to imprint the shape of my body before the deadline ran out. And I let myself be held, knowing that in fourteen days that door would be locked for the last time, and that until then we were going to burn every hour we had left, without counting the marks or asking questions.