My Confession: What Happened That Afternoon at the Book Club

Hot water poured over Lucía like an electric caress, sliding down her shoulders and disappearing between her thighs. The slight, throbbing ache she felt in back there—that physical reminder of what had happened hours earlier in the club room—mingled with a tingle she couldn’t ignore. She braced one hand against the cold tiles and let the contrast with the water make her shiver. Her fingers, almost without permission, slid down to brush the swollen lips of her sex, already soaked for reasons the water couldn’t explain.

“Harder. Now.” She had begged for it, and Damián had obeyed. The memory of him burying himself in her ass over and over, opening her to the limit, dragged a low moan from her. What had been surprising wasn’t the initial pain, nor even the sense of fullness when he came inside for the first time. What had been surprising was the orgasm. A climax born from a place she hadn’t known she had, with no one touching her clit, with none of her own fingers involved. Only the constant friction of him moving there, where no one had ever been before.

Her fingers drew slow circles over the sensitive button, imagining they were his, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing compared to the pressure of Damián’s body against hers, to the broken rhythm of his breathing when she ordered him to fuck her harder.

—Just like that, Damián… —she whispered into the steam, as if he could hear her.

Her hips rocked, seeking more friction, while her other hand slid back. She brushed cautiously over the still-sensitive ring, and a shiver ran through her when the pad of her finger barely pressed at the entrance. She was tense, yes, but less than the first time. The water and her own wetness did the work of a natural lubricant, letting her explore that new sensitivity with a muffled moan.

How was it possible that something that had hurt so much at first now made her feel such insatiable hunger? Every time she remembered the moment he had emptied himself inside her, feeling the heat filling her from behind, her sex clenched, begging for more. But then the fear returned, cold as a sharpened blade. If she lost control, if in a burst of need she asked him to penetrate her there, where no man had yet been, her family would find out. Her father, who bragged so much about his daughters’ “discretion” as a bargaining chip for future business, would erase her from the inheritance without blinking. And she needed that money. Not for the money itself, but for the power it would give her to get her younger sister out of that suffocating fate.

Her fingers sank harder in front while the ones at the back kept teasing the entrance, not quite daring to go in. Pleasure coiled up her spine like a taut rope.

—Fuck… —she muttered through clenched teeth.

She imagined Damián behind her, his big hands on her hips, his hot breath at her nape telling her to relax, that he knew exactly how to make her feel good. “Really? That’s it?”, she had asked him when he came too soon the first time, and the look on his face—that mix of embarrassment and renewed desire—had excited her more than she was willing to admit.

The orgasm hit her without warning. She bit back a cry against her own arm. Her inner muscles clamped down hard, her legs went weak, and she had to brace both hands against the wall. She was panting as if she had just run a marathon. The water kept falling over her, washing everything away except the obsession already growing inside her.

***

Meanwhile, in his room, Damián was lying on his back on the bed with an open book resting on his chest that he hadn’t gotten past a single page in twenty minutes. His erection made a blatant bulge beneath the elastic of his boxers and pulsed every time he closed his eyes and saw Lucía bent over the table in the club room, the pink marks of his own fingers on her ass, the muffled moans when he finally dared to thrust in.

He couldn’t believe he had come so fast. Virgin shit, he scolded himself for the umpteenth time. Although the memory of her face—first disappointment, then renewed lust when he got hard again—excited him even more. There was something in the way she looked at him, as if she were discovering a whole new world through his body, that drove him crazy. And now, knowing they were both inexperienced, that they could explore each other without shame, the idea of the next club meeting had him on the verge of losing his mind.

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the heat in his cheeks. Next time he wasn’t going to limit himself to fucking her from behind. Oh, no. Next time he’d make her come with his mouth first. He wanted to taste her, to feel her thighs trembling against his head while she writhed under his tongue. And when she was undone enough, when she was soaked and the rest of her ready to take him again, then yes. Slow at first, like she’d asked, but this time without holding back until they were both screaming.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand and startled him. It was a message from the club group: “Reminder: next meeting in three days. Topic: eroticism in classical literature.” Damián smiled with a crooked, anticipatory grin. Three days. Only three fucking days.

His hand slipped under his boxers and wrapped firmly around his cock. He didn’t need elaborate fantasies: the memory of Lucía telling him “harder” while he drove into her was enough. He began to masturbate slowly, imagining it was the tight heat of her squeezing him and not his own hand. He could almost feel it: that initial resistance that then became suction, as if her body never wanted to let him go.

—Fuck, Lucía… —he murmured, speeding up.

The other hand closed around his scrotum as he imagined what it would be like to lick her until she trembled, how she would taste, sweet and salty at once. The mere thought brought him to the edge. With a grunt he came over his own stomach, the thick drops mixing with sweat. But even after that, as his body relaxed against the mattress, his mind stayed fixed on a single idea: next time he wasn’t going to hold back. Next time he was going to make her entirely his, even if it was only from behind. Something told him that if he tasted the rest of her, even with his tongue, there would be no turning back. And that, for some reason, excited him more than anything else.

***

The air in the club room was charged, heavy like the silence before a storm. Damián arrived first, as always, but this time it wasn’t because of his habit of punctuality: desire had dragged him there before the hour. He paced in circles around the wooden table, fingers drumming on the polished edge, his head clouded by images of her. Her body trembling beneath his. The muted sound of her moans. The way her nails had dug into his back. The memory left him hard, and the pants fit uncomfortably tight.

The door opened with a soft creak and Damián spun around, his heart pounding against his ribs. Lucía entered cautiously, as if the threshold itself might betray her. She closed the door with a click he felt in his chest like a gunshot. She was wearing a pleated skirt that clung to her hips as she moved and a white blouse that left little to the imagination over her lace bra. Her glasses had fogged from the street’s steam, and she took them off with trembling fingers, wiping them against the hem of her skirt without looking at him. She didn’t need to look at him for him to know she was as excited as he was. The air between them smelled of electricity, of something about to catch fire.

—No one else is coming today —Damián said hoarsely, taking a step toward her. It wasn’t a question. It was a warning.

Lucía swallowed. Her knuckles went pale from how tightly she gripped the glasses frame.

—I know.

That was all the permission he needed.

He crossed the distance between them in two steps and grabbed her by the waist while his other hand sank into her hair, tugging her to his mouth. The kiss was brutal, hungry, a clash of teeth and tongues that asked for nothing: it took. Lucía moaned against his lips and the sound vibrated straight into Damián’s crotch. Her hands tangled in his shirt, wrinkling the fabric as if she were afraid he’d let her go. He had no intention of letting her go. Not now. Not with the taste of her—sweet, with a hint of mint—driving him mad.

Damián’s hands dropped, traced her hips, and ended up gripping the hem of her skirt. He yanked it up. The cold air brushed the hot skin of her thighs, but she didn’t have time to react: he was already on his knees. The tips of his fingers hooked into the elastic of her white underwear and pulled downward. Lucía gasped and instinctively closed her legs, but he growled and forced them apart with his hands, opening her for him like a feast.

—Fuck —he whispered, voice breaking, when her scent hit him like a punch.

She was soaked. He could see the shine on her swollen lips, the dark pink of the entrance throbbing as if it knew what was coming, and above it, nearly hidden among the folds, the small, pleading button.

—No… we can’t… —Lucía stammered, but her hands were already on his head, fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him in. There was no conviction in her words. Her body said exactly the opposite.

Damián didn’t answer with words. He stuck out his tongue and dragged it from start to finish in one long, slow stroke. Lucía’s legs trembled. A broken moan escaped her, her hips jerking forward uncontrollably, as if her body knew what it needed before her mind did.

—God, Damián… —her voice cracked when he repeated the motion, this time with more pressure, closing his lips around her clit and sucking hard.

She arched. A shattered sound tore from her throat. Her thighs closed around his head, trapping him, but Damián didn’t resist. He drove his tongue deeper, exploring every fold with almost religious devotion. He could taste her, salty and sweet at once, and knowing no one had tasted her before drove him insane. She was his. All of it—her body, her moans, the way she writhed under his mouth—was his.

With a growl, Damián parted her lips with his fingers, exposing the glistening entrance. The temptation was too much. Without warning, he buried his tongue inside her as far as he could. Lucía screamed, her nails raking Damián’s scalp while her hips shook against his face, seeking more, always more.

—There! There, don’t stop! —she begged, her voice broken, while he worked her clit with the tip of his tongue, drawing quick, precise circles that brought her to the brink.

He could feel her inner muscles clenching, as if they wanted to drag him deeper. And then, with one final firm lick, Lucía exploded. An orgasm coursed through her whole body, her legs trembling, her thighs trapping Damián’s head as liquid heat bathed his tongue, his chin, his lips. He didn’t pull away. He drank every drop, licking and sucking until she collapsed against him, gasping, her fingers still tangled in his hair as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.

—Damián… —his name came out like a trembling whisper, a prayer.

He looked up. His lips shone, his chin was stained. His eyes, dark and full of lust, found hers, glazed and unfocused.

—I’m not done with you yet —he promised, hoarse, and slowly stood, dragging his body against hers so she could feel how hard he was.

Lucía didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She just let herself fall against his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat while the aftershocks of the orgasm kept running through her, preparing her—without her knowing—for what would come next.

***

Lucía’s body was still trembling when Damián held her against his chest, feeling her breathing slowly settle. The air remained charged, thick with the scent of her arousal. With slow, almost reverent movements, he slid his hands down to the buttons of her blouse and undid them one by one while his lips sought hers in a soft but possessive kiss. Lucía moaned against his mouth when he brushed her bra; her nipples were already hard with anticipation.

—I’m not leaving you dressed —Damián murmured against her lips—. I want to taste all of you.

She nodded, and with trembling fingers she unbuckled his belt, as if she needed to touch him, to make sure this was real. When he pulled down her bra and freed her breasts, he couldn’t help groaning. He leaned in, took one nipple between his lips, and sucked hard before nibbling just enough to make her gasp. Lucía arched her back. Her nails sank into his shoulders while her other hand slid downward, stroking him with perfect pressure, as if she knew exactly how to drive him wild.

—Ah, fuck! —Damián growled, pulling back for a moment to look at her with darkened eyes—. Like that, just like that…

He didn’t stop licking and sucking, moving from one breast to the other while his fingers toyed with the one not in his mouth. Lucía panted, her hips shifting by instinct, seeking something more, anything. He wasn’t in a hurry. He wanted to savor her, mark her. When he finally pulled away, his lips shining with saliva, he left a trail of wet kisses between her breasts and looked at her with a lazy smile.

—Now lie down on the table —he ordered, rough—. I want to fuck you from behind again.

Lucía swallowed, cheeks flushed, but instead of obeying at once, her fingers closed around him. Damián held his breath.

—Wait —she whispered with a wicked smile he hadn’t seen before—. If I do that for you now, you’ll last longer when you put it in me from behind… Isn’t that what you want?

Damián’s brain clouded over. The idea of those lips wrapping around him, that warm, wet mouth taking him to the limit before sinking again into her tightest place… Fuck. He nodded with a grunt, unable to form a word. Lucía didn’t need any more invitation. She knelt in front of him, hands working the belt and fly with an urgency that drew another moan from him. When he sprang free, hard and throbbing already, Lucía looked at him for a second before licking the shiny drop that appeared at the tip.

—Mmm, you’re ready for me already —she purred, before wrapping her lips around him and sinking down slowly.

Damián cursed under his breath. His hands tangled in her hair as Lucía took him deeper, her throat relaxing around him. She wasn’t experienced, but the enthusiasm with which she applied herself, the way her fingers massaged while her tongue traced his length, had him on the edge in seconds. He tried to warn her, gasping her name, but she only looked up at him with those bright, determined eyes and took him to the base.

—Lucía, I’m gonna…!

The orgasm hit him like a train. She took every spurt without blinking, swallowing it all with a satisfied sound. When she finally pulled away, she licked her lips as if savoring the last trace of it, and Damián stared at her dazed, still pulsing.

—God… —he murmured, helping her up—. That was… fuck.

Lucía smiled, proud of herself. Before she could say anything, Damián grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the wooden table. The cold surface made her shiver, but the heat of his body covering hers made up for it. He arranged her on her back, her legs hanging off the edge, open in invitation. Damián wasted no time. He knelt between her thighs and his fingers slid between her soaked folds.

—Perfect —he growled, gathering the wetness before bringing it to the other spot, massaging the tight ring carefully—. You’re going to feel me inside you again, Lucía. And this time I’m not coming so fast.

She nodded, biting her lip while he pressed the tip against the back entrance. The stretch was slow, almost unbearable, but Damián didn’t give in. He pushed centimeter by centimeter, letting her adjust, their gasps filling the silence of the room.

—More! —Lucía begged, her nails scratching the wood—. Please, Damián…

He obeyed. He sank all the way in in one fluid motion. Lucía screamed, her body tightening around him, so tight he had to stop for a moment, breathing deeply.

—Fuck, you’re… you’re squeezing me —he groaned, starting to move with long, deep thrusts.

Every time he withdrew, the cold air brushed her sensitive entrance, only to be replaced by searing heat when he came back in. Lucía couldn’t think. She could only feel: the initial pain giving way to a dark, deep pleasure, her nerves lighting up every time he hit a spot inside that made her see stars. The orgasms caught her off guard, one after another, her body shaking while Damián held her by the hips, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate.

—I’m coming! —he warned, voice shattered—. Inside you, Lucía!

She nodded, unable to speak, her inner muscles clamping down around him when the first hot spurt flooded her. The second orgasm hit her with brutal force, her back arched while Damián emptied himself into her, growling her name like a prayer. When he finally collapsed over her body, sweaty and gasping, Lucía could only wrap her arms around him, feeling the heat drip from her, marking her from the inside.

—That… —Damián murmured against her neck, kissing her sweaty skin—. That was fucking perfect.

And while he breathed against her collarbone, Lucía closed her eyes and wondered how much longer she would be able to keep up this double life. The discreet daughter, the dutiful reader, the bargaining chip for her father’s business. And then this: the woman who let herself be marked from the inside in the empty room of a book club, counting the days until the next meeting.