The Young Stepmother Who Crossed the Line That Night

Iván parked the motorcycle in front of the dockside restaurant and handed the helmet to Lucía without looking at her. They’d spent half an hour in silence, both of them wearing helmets, her holding on to his waist along the road that skirted the bay. The kind of silence that clings to the skin when you get off a vehicle.

—Table for two? —the waiter asked, still not quite deciding how to address them.

—By the window, if possible —she replied.

They ordered fresh seafood and a bottle of very cold white wine. The evening light came in at an angle through the window and traced a golden line down Lucía’s neck.

—Didn’t you say zero alcohol with the bike? —she asked, frowning with a restrained smile.

—One glass, woman. Let me breathe a little.

—One. And don’t look at me like that, Iván.

It was a curious scene if you stopped to look at it calmly. He was thirty-three, she was twenty-five. Eight years of difference that family chronology had put on its head: Lucía had married his father the previous summer, so on paper she was his stepmother. In practice, she was a woman he couldn’t look at without feeling something tighten inside him.

They ate slowly. They talked about his childhood, about her university, about that trip north Iván had taken two years earlier and never quite finished telling about. Until Lucía remembered a question that had been gnawing at her since the night before, when his father had welcomed him home with a visual inspection that lasted far too long.

—There’s something I’ve been chewing on since yesterday —she said, setting her fork on the plate—. Why did your father look at you like that when he saw you? Up and down, like he wanted to make sure you were all in one piece.

Iván smiled with a grimace that never quite became a smile. He took a long swallow of wine, wiped his beard with the napkin, and spent a moment staring at the reflection of the harbor lights in his glass.

—It’s because of something that happened a few weeks ago. It’s not pretty.

—If you don’t want to talk about it…

—I do want to. I can tell you.

Lucía lowered her gaze for a second. Barely a blink.

—I was walking up a mountain road on foot, dusk already falling. I had my backpack over my shoulder and my laptop inside. A trucker stopped and asked if I wanted a ride to the next village. His wife and daughter were in the cab, so he told me to climb in the back, in the bed. I did as he said.

—In the bed? Alone?

—Alone. Until I wasn’t.

He paused, and the pause seemed far too long. Lucía leaned over the table.

—On a curve, two shadows jumped into the moving bed. The truck was climbing so slowly up the hill that all they needed was a jump. Their faces were covered with a scarf and the hood of their sweatshirt. They pulled out two knives. To me, they were nothing more than two silhouettes in the dark.

—Iván…

—The trucker didn’t hear a thing over the engine noise. I couldn’t shout, because if he stopped to help me, I’d have put them in danger. There were two of them. I took out the laptop and offered it to them. And the money, and the phone. I told them to take whatever they wanted.

She listened with tight lips and fingers clenched around the glass.

—But they wanted the backpack too. And inside it I had my journal, the one from the whole year of travel. I fought back. One grabbed me from behind and pressed the knife to my throat.

Iván pushed his beard aside with two fingers and revealed a thin, fresh scar, already almost white, just under his jaw. Lucía leaned over the table and looked at the mark for a moment before pulling her face back, as if it burned.

—I had no idea —she murmured.

—I kept insisting: “Take everything, but not the backpack.” And in the end they did. They took the computer, the phone, and the money, and jumped out of the moving truck. I stayed clinging to the backpack for the rest of the ride, unable to move, sweating like I was about to collapse right there.

Lucía’s eyes were glazed with tears, but she said nothing until he finished.

—That’s the closest I’ve ever come to death. Not even last year’s motorcycle accident comes close. Half a centimeter more and the knife would have opened my jugular.

She swallowed. She crossed her hand over the plates and rested it on his.

—We’re going back by taxi tonight —she said, voice breaking—. Drink whatever you want.

She raised her glass.

—To you, Iván. For still being here.

They toasted in silence. Iván drained half the glass in one swallow.

—Does my father know? —she asked, though she already suspected the answer.

—I told him I’d been robbed. Nothing more. And never tell him, Lucía.

—Never —she promised, looking him in the eyes.

***

The second course arrived with the bottle already half empty. Lucía asked them to leave it and not refill it, and topped off both glasses herself.

—Your turn —Iván said, recovering a little of his smile—. I’ve told you mine.

—That’s not fair. Yours is trauma. Mine is a teenage bad decision.

—Still.

Lucía drew a deep breath. She toyed with the stem of the glass, her nails drumming on the tablecloth.

—I came home from school and everything was empty. I heard my father on the phone in his office, writing down the name of a café. I hid in my room. When he left, I ran a pencil over the note pad to trace the address he’d written on top.

—Like on CSI —he said, trying to lighten the air.

—Like on CSI. I found him with another woman. I spied on them from the street, behind the glass front, feeling like the dumbest person in the world for not daring to go in and look her in the face.

—You were very young, Lucía.

—I kept it quiet for a whole year. A whole year of seeing him come home late and lying to my mother for him. I told myself I’d hurt her more by saying it. I ended up hating him. And in the end, he was the one who left us.

A tear slipped out, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand before it finished falling. Iván set down his glass and covered her hand with his, just as she had done before with his. They stayed like that for a long minute, without speaking, while the dock lights lit up one by one in the window.

—And don’t you think you’re more like your mother than you realize? —he asked at last.

Lucía lifted her gaze. She knew perfectly well where he was going.

—I know what you mean. And yes. I know.

—My father has “friends” too, Lucía. Not just friends. I’ve known for months.

—I know that too.

They held each other’s gaze just long enough for it to stop being a conversation between stepmother and stepson. Iván felt the heat rising up the back of his neck, and something else lower down, a dull tug between his legs that made him shift in the chair. Lucía pulled her hand away slowly, without looking away, and he saw her nipple press against the fabric of her dress as if she’d just touched it with her fingertip.

—Let’s call a taxi —he said, his voice a little lower than necessary.

***

Iván’s apartment was ten minutes from the port, in the upper part of the old quarter. Her father and Lucía lived half an hour away, in the family house on the outskirts. They didn’t speak in the taxi. She looked out the window, the reflection in the glass doubling her eyes. He looked at the taxi meter without seeing it, his cock half hard and pressing his pants, his hand clenched over his thigh so he wouldn’t take it to hers.

—Come upstairs for water —Iván said when the taxi stopped in front of his building—. Before we go on to my father’s house.

Lucía didn’t answer. She got out of the taxi and went into the building behind him.

The apartment was small and smelled of books and old wood. Iván went straight to the kitchen and filled two glasses with tap water. When he turned around, Lucía was leaning in the doorway, barefoot, her shoes in one hand.

—I don’t want to go home yet —she said.

—You don’t have to go.

He handed her one of the glasses. Lucía took it with both hands and drank slowly, never taking her eyes off him. Iván watched a drop run down her neck, circle her collarbone, and disappear under the neckline of her dress. He felt his jaw tighten on its own and his cock shove against his fly again.

—We shouldn’t —he said.

—I know.

Lucía set the glass on the counter. She took one step. Then another. Iván didn’t move.

—Your father… —he began.

—My father and yours are the same kind of man, Iván. And I’m not here for revenge. I’m here because I’ve been waking up soaked thinking about this for six months. Every fucking morning. If you tell me to go, I’ll go. But you’re not going to tell me.

Iván didn’t tell her to go. He took the glass from her hand, grabbed the back of her neck, and kissed her with his mouth open. She yielded all at once, as if she’d spent the whole dinner holding her breath, and slipped her tongue into his without ceremony. Iván tasted white wine and felt the tip of her tongue searching for his as if she wanted to eat him from the inside.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It turned into a half-mouth bite, teeth against lip, saliva on the chin. Iván pressed her against the kitchen counter, grabbed her ass over the dress with both hands, and lifted her two centimeters so she could feel his hard cock stabbing into her belly. Lucía let out a moan that scraped inside his throat.

—Fuck, you’re rock hard —she murmured against his mouth.

—And you’ve been staring at me half the night like you wanted me to put it in you right now.

—Because I do.

Lucía’s hands went up his neck and yanked his hair back just enough for her to look him in the eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen.

—Once —she said, breathless—. Just tonight. After that, we never talk about it again.

—Just tonight. And tonight I’m going to fuck you like nobody has ever fucked you in your fucking life.

—Promise me.

—I promise.

Iván slid the right strap of her dress down with one finger. Then the left. The fabric gave way to her waist. Lucía stood before him in a black lace bra, freckled shoulders, short breaths, and breasts rising and falling inside the cups. She fumbled for his belt and unfastened it without taking her eyes off his. She lowered the zipper, slipped her hand into his boxer briefs, and grabbed his cock all at once, without preamble, closing her fist around it with calculated slowness.

—Jesus —she murmured, weighing it in her hand—. It’s bigger than I thought.

—You’ve spent six months thinking about it.

—I’ve spent six months imagining it. Not the same thing.

She pulled his cock up over the waistband and started jerking him with a firm wrist, moving her whole hand up and down, squeezing under the glans every time she reached the top. Iván pressed against her pubis with a groan and bit the curve of her neck.

—To the fourth —he said, barely audible—. Keep that up and I’ll come in your hand.

—Not yet.

He lifted her by the waist. Lucía wrapped her legs around him and let herself be carried, biting his neck just above the scar. Iván walked down the hall with her hanging on, bumping into the doorframe, and when he dropped her onto the bed, Lucía already had her back arched and her fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling it upward.

Iván ripped his shirt off. He kicked off his pants and boxer briefs in one movement, stood naked in front of her, his cock pointing at her belly, and Lucía propped herself on her elbows to look at it. She ran her tongue over her lower lip without even noticing.

—Come here —she said, tugging his forearm.

Iván let himself fall onto the bed and Lucía shoved him onto his back against the mattress. She swung one leg over him, kissed his mouth, kissed his beard, kissed the scar on his neck with almost religious slowness, and then started going lower. She bit his nipple, the line of his stomach, the hip bone. When her breath reached his cock, Iván already had his head thrown back and his hands gripping the sheets.

—You don’t have to… —he started.

—Shut up. I’ve wanted to do this for six months.

Lucía grabbed the base with one hand and took him into her mouth halfway in one stroke. Iván let out a sharp gasp and his hips moved on their own. She pulled back slowly, sucking from base to tip, licked the glans with a flat tongue as if it were an ice cream, and took him all the way in again, this time to the hilt, until he felt the tip of her throat close around him.

—Fuck, Lucía, fuck…

She looked up at him from below with his cock in her mouth and shining eyes, and kept sucking him with a steady rhythm, one hand following her mouth, the other massaging his balls. Iván put a hand on the back of her neck without squeezing, just to feel her, and noticed her swallowing, breathing through her nose, the saliva beginning to drip from the corner of her mouth.

—If you keep that up I’m going to come in your mouth —he warned, hoarse.

Lucía yanked him out abruptly, held him pointing at her face, and smiled with wet lips.

—Not tonight. Tonight you come inside.

Iván grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her over. Lucía fell onto her back on the mattress, laughing softly, and he climbed on top of her. He unhooked her bra with two fingers, ripped it off, and bared her breasts. They were small, white, with dark nipples already hard. Iván took one fully in his hand and sucked her nipple with his mouth open, circling it with his tongue, biting just hard enough to make her moan.

—Harder —she asked—. I’m not made of porcelain.

Iván bit her nipple until she moaned higher and pinched the other between his index finger and thumb. Lucía arched her back and dug her nails into the nape of his neck.

—Yes, fuck, yes.

Iván pulled her dress up over her hips until he took it off entirely. Lucía lay there in black lace panties, with the light from the street coming through the blinds and drawing light and dark bands across her skin. He slipped a hand under the elastic, ran his fingers over her cunt without pressing, and found her soaked to the groin.

—Look how wet you are —he murmured, his mouth against her neck—. You’re dripping.

—I’ve been like this since you grabbed me in the kitchen.

He pulled her panties down with his teeth to mid-thigh and then with his hands to her ankles. He took them off completely and threw them on the floor. Lucía spread her legs without being asked. Iván stayed for a second looking at her, breathing heavily.

—Jesus, what the fuck do you have.

—Eat.

Iván dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, grabbed her by the thighs, and dragged her to the edge of the mattress. He lifted her legs onto his shoulders and buried his face between her legs without another warning. He ran his tongue from bottom to top, slowly, flat-tongued, collecting everything she had on the outside, and tasted salt and woman soaking into his beard.

Lucía let out a low moan, clutching the sheets.

—Fuck, Iván…

—Shut up.

He worked her with his tongue without hurry, holding her thighs to keep her pinned to the bed when she tried to move. He traced circles around her clit without touching it, penetrated her with his tongue as far as it would go, came back up, caught her clit between his lips, and sucked slowly. Lucía covered her mouth with her hand, then moved it away, then gave in and started moaning without restraint, her voice coming out raw and full.

—Put it in me, put it in with your tongue, like that, like that, fuck, don’t stop…

Iván slid two fingers into her while he sucked her clit, curling them upward to search for that spot inside. Lucía opened wider for him, pressed herself against his face, started rocking her hips against his mouth uncontrollably. She pulled his hair when she felt herself getting close, drove her heels into his back, stopped breathing for three seconds, and came against his mouth with a dull cry that stayed trapped inside her. Iván felt her cunt tightening around his fingers in waves and kept sucking her clit until she shoved his head away because she couldn’t take it anymore.

—Stop, stop, fuck, I can’t, stop.

Iván climbed up her body, kissing every inch of her. He kissed her stomach, bit one breast as he passed, licked the hollow between her clavicles. When he reached her face, Lucía took his jaw in both hands and licked her own taste from his lips with her tongue.

—Now you —she murmured—. Now fuck me.

Iván positioned himself between her legs. He grabbed his cock with his hand, dragged it up and down over her cunt, soaking it in her, and brushed her clit with the glans two, three times. Lucía gave a full-body shudder each time.

—Put it in already, Iván, please, put it in.

He entered her slowly, with a restraint that cost him his life to hold. Centimeter by centimeter, looking into her eyes. Lucía stayed with her mouth open and no sound, and only when Iván reached the hilt did she let out the air in one long exhale.

—Fuck, how thick you are.

—Don’t stop.

—I’m not stopping.

He started slowly, with long thrusts, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back in to the base, propped on his elbows on either side of her head. Lucía gripped his forearms, eyes half closed, moaning low with every push. Then Iván began to build rhythm, harder, deeper, and the bed started creaking against the wall. Lucía hooked her legs around his waist and dug her nails into his shoulder blades every time he went a little deeper.

—Like that, fuck, like that, harder, break me.

—Like this?

—More.

Iván sat up, propped himself on his heels, and grabbed her legs by the ankles. He lifted both legs until they rested on his right shoulder and started fucking her at that angle, his cock coming in from above, straight and deep every time. Lucía let out a cry that she half smothered with the back of her hand.

—Fuck, fuck, there, not there, there, fuck…

—Do you like how your stepson fucks you, huh?

—Shut up and keep going.

—Say it.

—I like how my stepson fucks me, there, happy?

Iván bit her calf and slowed for a second just to make her suffer, and then sped up again. Lucía pinched her own nipples with both hands without taking her eyes off him. Iván bit the curve of her neck, right where she had looked at his scar minutes earlier, and felt her grip him with her thighs.

—Iván, I’m not going to make it through another…

—Yes, you are.

He turned her without leaving her, dragging her against the mattress with his cock still inside. Lucía ended up face down, her face buried in the pillow, and he lifted her hips until she was on her knees, ass up and back arched. He leaned over her for a second to bite the nape of her neck.

—Brace yourself on your elbows and don’t drop your ass.

—Yes.

Iván took her by the hips with both hands and started driving into her from behind, this time without restraint. The sound of his hips colliding with her ass filled the room, dry, rhythmic, like a continuous slap. Lucía moaned into the pillow to muffle what was coming out of her, but it escaped anyway. Iván gave her right cheek a smack, first to test, and she clenched tight around his cock.

—Again —she begged, muffled.

Iván gave her another, harder. Lucía let out a long moan. The red handprint stayed marked on her skin. He grabbed her hair with one hand and pulled a little back, forcing her to lift her head from the pillow.

—I want to hear you.

—Fuck me, fuck me, like that, like that, don’t stop, don’t stop…

This time it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t fast either. It was the exact rhythm that made Lucía start trembling again sooner than she expected, her whole body tensing, thighs clamping around his cock, her cunt pulsing in beats that Iván felt one by one.

—I’m coming, I’m coming again, fuck, I’m coming…

Iván didn’t slow down. He grabbed her waist with both hands, drove his cock all the way in, and held it there, moving his hips in small circles, while Lucía came with her mouth against the pillow and her back arched. He felt her tightening around him in waves, soaking him to the base, and held on as best he could.

—Now you —she murmured as soon as she could speak, still trembling—. Come inside, come inside me, Iván, I want to feel it.

Iván thrust three, four, five more times, each one deeper and slower, and on the sixth he sank to the hilt, gripped her hips like they were the only solid thing in the world, and came inside her, biting his lip so he wouldn’t say anything they couldn’t later take back. He felt every pulse of his cock emptying into her, and he felt Lucía clench with her thighs so she wouldn’t lose a single drop.

They stayed like that for a long while, not separating, breathing slowly back to normal. Iván over her back, his forehead between her shoulder blades, his cock still inside and softening little by little. When he finally pulled out, he felt semen running down Lucía’s thigh, and she let out a low moan, almost a complaint, as if she missed something.

—Come here —she murmured.

They both collapsed onto their sides, her pressed against his back, Iván’s arm crossing her stomach. The light from the blinds still marked them with parallel bands across their skin.

—Once —Lucía repeated into the pillow, without turning around.

—Once —Iván answered, his hand sliding down her stomach again, unable to help himself.

Neither of them sounded very convinced. Iván’s fingers slipped back between her legs and found her still soaked, slippery with him and with her. Lucía opened a little without saying anything.

—Again? —he murmured against her ear.

—Again.

But before that, they stayed still for a moment. Lucía turned toward him and pressed her forehead to his neck, right above the scar. She stayed there, breathing against his skin, saying nothing more.

After a while, she spoke quietly.

—Your father isn’t going to find out.

—No.

—And neither will my mother.

—Neither will she.

Iván kissed her hair. Lucía closed her eyes and swung a leg over his hip to keep him close again. Outside, the boats in the harbor rocked softly with the tide, and inside the room both of them knew perfectly well that this would be the first of many nights they would never tell anyone about.