I tried not to get my hopes up, but like most thingsin life, the hope sneaks in. I felt acute disappointmentwhen I hadn’t heard from them and poor Vera had to putup with my moping around the apartment for days onend.
That was until Friday afternoon, when I got a phonecall from the manager. They wanted me to meet them forlunch at Fioris Café on Monday, which it technically isright now, to discuss an urgent matter.
It’s no wonder that I can’t sleep. I only pray it’s justmy nerves that are having their way with me, that thereis no real reason for the sense of foreboding that I have.
Vera turns over in our bed, her hair spilling aroundher face, her breasts nearly coming free of the delicatestraps of her top. Her skin is white silk scattered withcolorful art. I’d never really found tattoos sexy until Imet her and saw the way they shaped her, how theyrepresented a million stories, emotions, expressions.
Her eyes slowly flutter open and she stares at mewith this hazy, sleepy look. “What are you doing?” sheasks softly.
I slip the letter back in the drawer. I know she’sseen me reading it before. She’s never asked what it is,but I can tell she knows it means something to me and Irespect that. I would gladly show her the letter, but thereason why I’m reading it may be unnerving for her.She’s been a bit on edge lately, like someone is ready topull the rug out from under her, and I don’t want to giveher anything else to worry about.
My fears are just that—my fears. She shouldn’thave to shoulder them.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I tell her with a small smile. I getoff the chair and stretch, my arms high above my head.Her eyes widen appreciatively at the sight of me. I’vestarted sleeping in the nude.
She pulls her eyes away long enough to ask, “Areyou nervous about tomorrow?”
I nod, letting out a small sigh, and come over to thebed, climbing back under the covers, which is comprisedof just a sheet now in these hot August nights. I lay myhead on the pillow and stare into her eyes, pushing backstrands of silk hair behind her ears. She gives me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worryabout it. I’m sure whatever they want to talk to youabout is a good thing.”
“I hope so,” I admit.
“I know so.”
I grin at her. “You seem to know so much in themiddle of the night.”
She cocks a brow. “Didn’t you know? I’m at mybest at this time. Want me to show you?”
I can never say no to that. Her lids become heavy,mouth full, wet and parted in anticipation. Thatsuggestive look is all I need to become hard.
She leans over and kisses me softly. My tongueexplores her mouth in a luxurious fashion, slowlybuilding a hot need between us. While my hand slips tothe back of her neck, pulling her toward me, her fingerstrail from the rough stubble on my chin down my chestand the firm ridges of my stomach, and wrap around mystiff cock.
I groan, closing my eyes to her grip as she makes afist and lightly skims the length of me up and down.
“If you keep doing that,” I manage to say againsther mouth, “the show will be over pretty quickly.”
She chuckles and pulls away, her lips skirting mychin, neck, chest. “As long as I give you a good show, Idon’t mind.”
Normally when one of us wakes up in the middle ofthe night feeling amorous, a sleepy, hazy form of sextakes place. One of the best kinds of sex. But if she’swilling and wanting to give me a blow job, I have noinclination to stop her. A true gentleman never stops awoman from doing what she desires.
Her lips slide down from my stomach to the tip ofmy shaft, and she takes me whole and deep into hermouth. I don’t know where Vera learned her skills—andI never want to know—but I’m eternally grateful forthem. With her mouth, tongue, and hand working inunison, I succumb to the sensation, the warmth floodingthrough my limbs. My fingers curl into her hair, grippingtight.
When her other hand goes to my balls, cuppingthem with just enough pressure to drive me wild, I can’thelp but yank at her hair. “Fuck,” I whimper. “Oh fuck,Vera. Fuck yes. More.”
She picks up the pace, and I begin thrusting my hipsup, my cock going as deep into her throat as possible,her lips enveloping me like a velvet glove. I come hardand she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop until there’snothing left in me.
I’m left panting on the bed, the waves bringing medeeper into the mattress, my hands letting go of her hair.I hear her swallow and wipe her lips, like thewonderfully bad girl that she is, and I open my eyes tosee her smiling at me in the dim light. She looks awfullyproud of herself, as she should.
“Your turn,” I tell her, trying to get up, but shepushes her hand into my chest so I’m lying back down.
“You can deal with me tomorrow,” she says, takinga sip of water. “I’m exhausted. Your cock takes a lot ofwork there, big boy.”
I can’t help but grin at her flattering choice ofwords. “You spoil me.”
She smiles like she knows it’s true then kisses mequickly on the lips before rolling over on her side so herback is to me. I scoop my arms around her waist and pullher into me, not wanting to fall asleep without her in myarms.
A few moments pass and our breathing lengthens.Outside, a car putters down the street. Everything else isquiet.
“I love you,” I whisper into her ear.
My voice seems to echo in the room. She’s already asleep.
Chapter Two
“So Mateo,” Pedro del Torro says as he spoons sugarinto his black coffee and gives it a methodical stir. “Doyou have any idea of why we might have asked you heretoday?”
I am sitting across from him and the diminutiveAntonio Ramos in one of Madrid’s more prestigiouscafés. Nothing but the best for these two, althoughAntonio has only been the general manager for aboutthree years. As Atletico’s owner, Pedro flaunts his powerand money like it’s no one’s business, more so when theteam is doing well, like they have been.
I give them a shrug and a half-smile. “Because youfind me charming?”
Pedro breaks into an easy laugh, one that I can’t tellis for show or not. He takes a sip of his coffee and nodsappreciatively at it. “The coffee here never lets medown. That’s why I keep coming back for more.”
I stare at him, knowing I have to humor hisindulgences before he gets down to business.
“You, Mateo,” he goes on, “seem to be the same.Reliable. The kind of person that doesn’t let anyonedown.”