Love, in Spanish(6)By: Karina Halle
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.
“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.”
I keep my expression neutral. God knows that I’velet enough people down in my lifetime.
He leans forward and folds his leathered hands infront of him. “Diego is leaving the team in January.”
I raise my brows in surprise. Diego Martinez is thecoach, and a great one at that. He’s helped bring theteam back from the brink all those years ago.
“Why?” I ask, trying to ignore the feeling insideme, like my chest is taking flight. I can’t get ahead ofmyself here, can’t dare dream of where this could beleading.
Pedro exchanges a tired glance with Antonio beforeturning his sharp eyes back to me. “He’s going to coachfor the Argentina team instead. We’ve known about itfor a while, we just weren’t sure what to do about it.”
I clear my throat and fight the urge to straighten thecuffs on my rolled up sleeves. “And Warren?” Warren isthe assistant coach, a Brit who used to play for Arsenalway back in the day. For a while there, with all thesemeetings, I had thought that perhaps I was beinggroomed to take his position. Now it has the possibilityto be so much more than that.
“We had hopes that Warren would be able to stepup. But the truth is, we’d all want a Spaniard in charge ofthe boys and one from the family.” Pedro pauses to takeanother sip of coffee and wipes delicately at hismustache before saying, “We want you, Mateo.”
I blink at him. “Me?”
“Yes,” he says with a quick smile. “Naturally yourealized we wanted to do business with you.”
I sit back in my chair, faintly aware that my heart ispounding loudly in my ears. “Well, yes, but there isbusiness and there is being a coach of an internationalfootball team. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but whatmakes you think this is something I can do? I haven’tbeen in the game for a long time.”
Pedro and Antonio exchange another look, and thistime Antonio speaks, slow and measured. “We thinkyou’ll do just fine. We have until January, of course, andwill put you in with Warren and Diego immediately.You’ll get a feel for it, what it’s like to be back. Believeme, Mateo, I used to watch you play religiously, and forsomeone like you, this is a natural progression.”