That Afternoon She Returned to the Club Knowing What She Was There For

Steam filled the bathroom when Lorena finally turned off the cold-water tap. She pressed her forehead against the tiles and let the hot stream run down the back of her neck, down her back, over the inner curve of her thighs. She could still feel the throbbing. That dull beat, different from the pulse of her sex, had spent six hours reminding her of what she had done with Adrián in the club room.

She closed her eyes and saw it again: herself bent over the oak table, her glasses skewed, her knuckles white against the wood. Him behind her, quiet at first, and then no longer. The new sensation, that stretch that hurt and didn’t hurt, that boundary she hadn’t known she had and that he had crossed while asking her permission at every inch.

—Harder. Now —she had begged him, surprised by her own voice.

And he had obeyed.

The memory clenched her stomach. She slid one hand between her thighs without thinking. She was soaked, and it wasn’t just the water. Her fingers glided over her clit in slow circles, while the other hand moved up to one breast and pinched the nipple harder than she ever allowed herself to. Adrián had bitten there. Not violently, but without asking permission, and that had been more arousing than any caress in her life before.

What she found hardest to accept was not the pain of the first thrust. It was the orgasm. It had come on its own, with no one touching her clit, without her own fingers getting involved. Just the steady friction of Adrián’s body against that inner spot she had never known, that place that now claimed her as a new, ridiculous, dangerous hunger.

Her free hand slid back. She probed the ring with the pad of her middle finger, still sensitive, and the shiver made her clamp her thighs together. She pushed a little, only the tip. It hurt. It hurt and she liked it.

—Just like that, Adrián —she whispered into the steam, and the words escaped her so seriously that she felt ridiculous and obscene at the same time.

But she didn’t stop.

Every time she imagined asking Adrián to fuck her from the front, her mind dragged her back to her father’s office, to that phrase he had repeated all her life: “My daughters’ purity is not up for negotiation.” Her father had built half an estate empire on family alliances with ancient surnames, and the inheritance of the two sisters was tied to a silent pact no one named but everyone respected. Lorena needed that money. Not for the money. For her younger sister, Camila, who was headed toward the same fate and who, if Lorena didn’t make it on her own, would have no one to get her out.

She gritted her teeth. Rubbed faster. Her other hand kept insisting at her anus without daring to enter, and pleasure coiled up her back like a rope. If I lose control, if one day I ask him for the other thing, it’s all over.

—Fuck —she muttered through her teeth.

The orgasm folded her against the tiles. She had to brace herself with both hands so she wouldn’t slip. The water washed away the evidence, but not the obsession.

***

At the same hour, in his room, Adrián had a book open on his chest that he had spent twenty minutes without getting past the first page. His erection stood out under the waistband of his boxer briefs, each throb synchronized with the images that kept replaying in his head: Lorena bent over the table, her ass reddened by the palm of his hand, her moans held against his forearm, the exact moment when he stopped asking permission and simply pushed.

He could not forgive himself for coming so fast. Idiot virgin, he scolded himself for the umpteenth time. But the memory of Lorena’s face —first disappointed, then shining when he was hard again fifteen minutes later— filled his chest with something he couldn’t name. She had never done that either. They were two clumsy people discovering each other, without an audience, without any precedent of their own, and to Adrián that felt like the most absurd privilege of his life.

His phone vibrated on the bedside table. A message from the club group: “Reminder: next meeting in three days. Topic: eroticism in classical literature.”

He smiled crookedly. Three days. Three fucking days.

Next time he wasn’t going to start where they had ended. Next time he was going to make her come with his mouth first. He wanted to feel her thighs trembling against his ears, he wanted to know what she tasted like, he wanted to see how far she dared push his head. And then, with her already broken by pleasure, he was going to go in from behind again. Slow. Without finishing quickly.

His hand slid under the waistband. He didn’t need elaborate scenarios. The phrase “harder, now” looping in his head was enough. Lorena’s voice. The new voice, the one she had never heard in herself before.

—Lorena, fuck —he murmured, speeding up.

When he came, the jet hit his chest. And still, as his body loosened against the mattress, the only thing he thought was: if I taste her cunt with my tongue, there’s no going back. And that, for some reason, turned him on even more.

***

Adrián arrived in the room half an hour early. He walked around the oak table. He drummed his fingers on the edge, not hearing the sound. He pretended to look at the spines of the books and didn’t focus on any of them. There was only one image in his head, and it had gotten so deep inside him that he saw it superimposed over the shelves, the curtains, the ceiling: Lorena, her back arched, her nails in his nape.

The door opened with a soft creak. He turned so fast his heart slammed into his throat.

Lorena came in cautiously, as if the threshold itself might betray her. She shut the door behind her, and the click sounded to Adrián like a gunshot. She was wearing a pleated skirt to the knee, a white blouse, and glasses fogged by the cold outside. She took them off and wiped the lenses against the hem, without looking at him. There was no need. The air between them smelled of something about to catch fire.

—No one else is here —Adrián said, his voice rough. It wasn’t a question.

—I know.

That “I know” was all the permission he needed.

He crossed the distance in two steps. He grabbed her by the waist with one hand and buried the other in her hair. He kissed her like he had gone three days without breathing properly. Lorena moaned against his mouth, and the sound went straight to Adrián’s groin. He caught her lower lip between his teeth, and she clutched his shirt as if afraid he might back away.

Adrián had no intention of backing away.

His hands dropped, lifted her skirt, and before she could close her legs he was already kneeling. He yanked down her underwear with a firm pull and spread her thighs with his hands to open her up.

—Fuck —he whispered, and the scent flooded his mouth with saliva.

Lorena was drenched. Adrián looked at her for a second: the shiny fold, the hard, pleading nub, the dark pink entrance throbbing faintly, as if it knew it was about to be devoured. No man had been there before. No man had tasted that. And the idea of being the first lit something in him that was close to rage.

—No... we can’t —Lorena stammered, but her hands were already in his hair, pushing his head toward her.

Her words meant nothing.

Adrián didn’t answer. He stuck out his tongue and licked her from bottom to top, slowly, until he found the clit. Lorena’s legs trembled at once, her hips jerking on their own. He repeated the movement, this time with more pressure, circled the clit with the tip of his tongue and then sucked.

—God, Adrián…

Her voice broke. Adrián didn’t answer. He parted her lips with two fingers and pushed his tongue in as far as he could, until he brushed the thin barrier she still kept. Lorena screamed. Her nails dug into his scalp.

—There, don’t stop!

Adrián worked the clit in fast, precise circles, feeling the inner muscles contract around his tongue, trying to drag him deeper. One last firm lick and Lorena exploded. She soaked his chin, his lips, her whole body trembling over him. He didn’t pull his face away. He drank every drop. He licked until she collapsed against him, panting, her hands still gripping his hair as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.

—Adrián…

He lifted his head. His lips were shiny, his chin wet. He looked into her glassy eyes.

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

Lorena didn’t answer. She let herself fall against his chest, and Adrián kissed her temple, lowered his hands along her sides, unbuttoned her blouse button by button with that slowness that was almost cruelty. Her nipples showed through the bra before he pulled it down. When he freed them, he leaned in and caught one with his lips. He sucked hard on it, nipped just enough to make her gasp, and moved to the other without hurry.

—I want to taste all of you —he murmured against her skin.

Lorena groped for his belt with clumsy fingers. When he was about to push her toward the table, she got there first. She closed her hand around his erection over his pants and squeezed. Adrián held his breath.

—Wait —she whispered. The new smile, the naughty one, the one he still didn’t know—. If I do it now, you’ll last longer when you put it in me from behind. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Adrián’s brain went completely foggy. He nodded wordlessly. Lorena knelt, and he lost his breath when she opened his pants and took his cock with both hands. She looked at it for a moment, almost curiously. Then she ran her tongue over the tip, collecting the shining fluid.

—Mmm. You’re ready already —she said, with a purr he had never heard from her before.

She wrapped her lips around him. She wasn’t experienced. But the enthusiasm with which she took him in, the way she massaged his balls while her tongue traced his veins, made him lose his footing. Adrián tried to warn her. He started panting her name, two broken syllables. She looked up at him and took him to the base.

—Lorena, I’m goin—

The orgasm hit him hard. She didn’t pull away. She swallowed with a satisfied moan, licked up the rest as if she didn’t want to miss a single drop, and got to her feet, running her thumb over the corner of her mouth.

—God —Adrián murmured, still dazed.

He lifted her by the waist and sat her on the edge of the oak table. The cold wood made her shiver. Adrián laid her on her back, let her legs hang open, and knelt between her thighs. He ran two fingers through the soaked fold, gathered them wet, and brought them to the back entrance, massaging the ring carefully.

—This time I’m not coming so fast —he promised, voice rough.

Lorena nodded, biting her lip. He pressed the tip in. The stretch was slow, almost unbearable. Adrián didn’t give in. He pushed centimeter by centimeter, letting her adjust, her gasps filling his ears.

—More —Lorena begged, her nails scratching the wood—. Please, Adrián.

He obeyed. He sank all the way in with a single movement. Lorena screamed. Her body tightened around him so hard Adrián had to stop for a second, breathe, swallow.

—Fuck, you’re crushing me —he growled. He began to move with long, deep, controlled thrusts.

Every time he pulled out, the cold air brushed her sensitive entrance. Every time he went in, the heat swallowed him. Lorena no longer thought. She felt. The initial pain gave way to something dark, deep, a pleasure she didn’t know how to classify. The orgasms came in a chain, one after another, her body shaking while Adrián held her by the hips, fingers dug in.

—I’m coming —he warned, voice broken—. Inside.

Lorena nodded, unable to speak. When the first spurt filled her, her inner muscles contracted in another orgasm, and she arched her back as if an electric current had gone through her. Adrián emptied himself into her completely, growling her name like it was a password.

When he finally collapsed on top of her, sweaty and panting, Lorena wrapped her arms around him and felt the hot semen dripping inside her, marking her in a place that was not yet quite his.

—That —Adrián murmured against her neck, kissing her skin—. That was…

He didn’t finish the sentence. It wasn’t necessary. Lorena closed her eyes and allowed herself, for the first time in many years, not to think about her father, or Camila, or what would happen the day she decided to ask Adrián for the other thing. For the first time, the reading club was just that: a place where two people who didn’t know what they were doing were learning together, and where no one would interrupt them for another three days.