Love, in Spanish(61)By: Karina Halle
“You will always make me proud, just by beingyou,” I tell her, kissing her long and deep on the lips,feeling the urge to physically make her mine as well.“And if you want to be a wife who makes drunkenlemonade while wearing sexy little dresses, that willmake me proud too.”
She grins. “You wouldn’t even be able to stop me.”
“I don’t ever want to stop you,” I say, and gentlylower her back so that she’s lying in the grass.“Wherever you go, I follow.”
And now, I will follow her to the very end.
I quickly look around to make sure no lone farmeris wandering nearby and remove my pants.
Vera lies in the grass, grinning saucily, and hikesher dress up around her waist. She’s not wearingunderwear. Neither am I. Match made in heaven.
I pin her arms above her head, her hair poolingaround her, and slowly push myself into her. She’s wetand wanting, and I can’t believe I’m going to marry her,marry this, this perfect place where I finally feel athome. I fit inside her like I belong there, and she wrapsher legs around the small of my back, driving me in,keeping me close to her. We move as one—we are one.
We make love, fast and slow and frantic andcontrolled. Our bodies take us through every emotion,every feeling, every desire. There in the field, under thattree, beneath the Spanish sun, we have come full circle.When I pour myself into her, I feel like I’m giving herevery essence of me, and as she comes around me, I feellike she’s trying to keep me inside her forever.
I stay inside for as long as I can. Then I put myarms around her and she nestles into my chest, and westare up at the rustling leaves, at the sky and space andstars hidden behind the sun.
I can feel her smile against my skin.
I smile back.
Our love is permanent and she is stardust in myhands.
I could never want for anything more.