The curtain reopens and Vera steps in wearing a bra and panties. She pours shampoo into her hand and motions for me to lean down. Her hands are firm and unhurried as she washes my hair, then the rest of me. The numbness eases with each stroke of the washcloth. By the time she nudges me under the spray to rinse I’m feeling almost like myself again.
She reaches for the knob to turn the water off, but I stop her. Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I hold on, my face buried in her shoulder. There’s so much I can’t say. Not because I’m ashamed, but because I simply don’t have the words. If I were a poet or an artist I might be able to express myself in some tangible way. My hands begin to rove in the only way I know to show what I can’t say. I cup her breasts in both hands, drawing a gasp from her. Her head drops back against my shoulder. I work the bra clasp and in seconds my hands are full of her bare flesh. My dick pulses. I need it now. Hard and fast.
I slide a hand down between her legs. Slipping one, then two fingers inside her wet heat, I can feel how she wants me too. Her hips move against my hand. She reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck. The view down her body is magnificent. Kissing and biting her neck, I bring her to the brink of orgasm. I need to be inside her so bad I rip the fabric separating us. She turns in my arms and I lift her so her back presses against the tile. Her legs grip my waist. She pulls me down for a kiss so desperate it steals my breath. I didn’t imagine she could need me as badly as I need her right now.
She tears her mouth from mine. “Inside me. Now.”
“Condom.”
“Told you. Don’t need it.”
“Sure?”
She nods. That’s all the encouragement I need.
Gripping my dick, I find her entrance and flex my hips up and into her. The sensation is almost overwhelming. Something urgent and primal takes over. My thrusts are deep and punishing. She urges me on with her cries. The sound of the water is drowned out by the harsh slap of flesh on flesh. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders, setting something off inside me. I come at her with renewed focus. Coming is my only thought. I’m rough. Maybe too rough. She digs her heels into my back and bites my chest. I go off, slamming into her one last time. I come hard. My knees nearly buckle at the intensity of it.
She shoves her hand between her legs and rubs. She’s almost there with me. I replace her hand with mine, bending down to take her nipple in my mouth. She grips the back of my head. Her fist pulls my hair. She jerks and comes on a loud moan. I push into her, using my pelvis to press against her clit. The sound she makes is somewhere between a cry and a groan.
Her head drops back against the tile and the look she gives me causes my stomach to dip like I’m on a rollercoaster. A strand of her hair drips water into her eyelashes. I smooth it away, tracing the edge of her face with my finger. It’s such a delicate face, in contrast to her personality. I don’t know what to do with her in moments like this. There’s so much to say, but the words don’t form. She’s more expressive when she’s quiet than I am talking all day long. We haven’t spoken since I pulled in to the cemetery parking lot, and yet it feels like we’ve talked nonstop.
I reluctantly pull out of her and help her find her feet. We’re both a little shaky. I turn off the water and grab a towel. I dry her with the same care that she used to wash me, wrapping the towel around her when I’m done. I give myself a quick dry and help her climb out of the tub. The bathroom is so steamy I can hardly see where the door is. We make our way into the bedroom and that’s when I see it. A tattoo on her shoulder. It’s the same tattoo Marie posted a drawing of on her Tumblr. I was too drunk to have seen it before, or else she positioned her body so I wouldn’t see it, not even in the shower just now.
Something about it pokes at me.
She discards her towel and climbs into bed. I stop a few feet into the room, my memory snagging on Marie’s first mention of the tattoo and Vera’s extreme reaction. The thought of it made her physically ill. And then again when Marie posted a photo of the drawing. She went totally white, scaring the shit out of me again. What does the tattoo mean and why does Vera have it? It’s more than just a way for that asshole Javier to mark the girls he’s been with. It means something. Something bad.
“What’s wrong?” Vera asks.
What does your tattoo mean? sits on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say it.
“Nothing,” I answer instead, taking off my towel and climbing into bed.
“Are you sure? You had a look just now.”
“It was seeing you naked.”
“And that confuses you?”