Just Thinking Out Loud

She jokes, "Already clingy, Skipper? Bedroom was right there.”

”I have something else in mind.” 

The fresh evening breeze soon hits her naked legs and arms as they reach the rooftop. A small balcony with a city view. Although Amsterdam is far from being her favourite city in Europe, she still finds it very charming. Virgil gently puts her back down. His gaze never leaves her as he pulls a small knife from his slacks. Alaya has been in worse situations. She is not impressed. Still, her mind is on alert. In their universe, stupidity would be trusting someone at 100%. Somehow, her heart is calm. 

”Let’s make a promise. Here and now.”

She jokes, ”Isn’t marriage sufficient enough for you?”

”Few themes were missing.” 

”I’m listening.”

”You and I until death tears us apart. No betrayals, no backstabbing, no snitching. For better or worse in life and business.”

Alaya nods calmly before repeating the same sentence word for word. The small knife rests in the air as Virgil intertwines their index. Soon a silk tissue is covering their fingers. What happens next might look odd for the regular person but not them. Regular or average could not fit in the life they chose to follow.

Virgil stares at her, silently asking for her permission. She silently closes her eyes, confirming proceeding. The small cut barely hurts. What gets her is the warmth of their blood staining the creme handkerchief. Both of them quietly observe the blood flooding until it naturally stops after applying small pressure. 

Virgil breaks the silence, ”We’re not only legally tied. We’re spiritually tied now.” 

"Good, can we handle real business now?”

He eyes her curiously, completely clueless about her hint. Alaya mockingly shakes her head. ”Real business in this case, my pussy.” They giggle in unison. No holdbacks, no image to polish, at least not between them. The rare moments of freedom they will ever experience. Being that carefree with anyone else would be extremely stupid. 

****

The water pouring down resonates beyond the bathroom's wooden door. Alaya gently hums in the cotton sheet, satisfied with their first night as a married couple. The fist of many, she hoped. Removing all jewellery before falling asleep is routine. The diamond bracelet on her wrist makes no difference. As she opens the nightstand drawer to hide her expensive piece of jewellery, a black square catches her attention. 

Nothing written. Black plain with yellowing paper in between. Her fingers run over the cold leather. The object belongs to Virgil. Now what intrigues her is what could be possibly written in it. A few months ago, she would have opened it and read. Discover whatever he tried to hide from her, if he had anything to hide.

Today, she hesitates. Not long ago, she promised to trust him. Still a small voice in her head questions, 'What if his plan to kill or betray you is right there?' She excoriates herself for even having such ideas. This man is either a master manipulator or a man in love, and she will choose the second option. Her mind cannot fathom the first one. With time, her heart opened up to make some space for him. It would be a shame to get rid of him.

The deep tone of his voice makes her jump. ”Have you read it?”

She shakes her head. ”I respect your privacy.” A heavy silence settles between them. Virgil’s stare alternates between the leather journal and her face. Something tells her that someone else has read the journal or at least held it. Alaya feels his discomfort, no matter how hard he tries to erase it. With a slow gesture, she puts the book back on the nightstand. Not exactly where she found it, but at this point, does it really matter? His shoulders relax as he takes a discreet breath.

Alaya crosses her legs, her eyes consciously avoiding him. Vulnerable Virgil made another appearance. In a few days' span, it is a record. For a mere seconds, she sees this young Virgil, scared and mourning his friend. The veil of his eyes slips for a second, reflecting a part of his soul he tried to hide at all cost. 

”I promise. I haven’t read a word, Virgil.”

”I believe you.”

She sighs out of relief. Droplets of water still falling from his curls when he wrapped his hands around hers. Alaya glances at him, looking for any signs of eventual betrayal. The grip tightens as the tip of his thumb rubs the back of her hand. 

”It has nothing to do with…the business. It’s just personal.”

”I know.”

”There’s nothing about you there. No plans about killing you or anything.”

She gulps out of shame. Sometimes, she wanted to curse him out for how good he could see beyond her eyes and body language. After a moment of silence, he says, ”You can read it. Maybe you’ll get to see another part of me. If it can help…If that’s what it takes for you to fully trust me.”

”No, I don’t want… You don’t have to if – "

”I said what I said, Aly. I trust you.” Just like that, he disappears into the living room. The silence of the room weighs on her shoulders as she observes the leather object. In a swift movement, the journal is in her hands.

Alaya closes the leather journal with tears rolling down her face. Sadness replaced the joy she had from their little moment. Virgil had to grow up so fast. Nobody was really there to protect that little boy. Their paths are so different. Alaya had been protected her entire life: no financial worries, no burdens, no early responsibilities and present parents. Security was the only shadow lurking in her life. She cannot even imagine what Virgil had to deal with.

The part that moved her the most was the multiple griefs. First his father abandoning him, his innocence, and then Martin. Although this journal was hard to read, it opened her eyes. She married the right man for her. If anything, she loves him even more than before. Contrary to many in the industry, he still had that sense of humanity. 

On her tiptoes, she walks to the living room only to find him sleeping on the sofa. Her heart jumps, the small sensation she hated but had to get used to. The urge to hug him is violent. Somehow, she manages to control herself. Instead, she gently rub his cheek, hoping to give the little boy inside of him some comfort. He calmly opens his eyes, a gentle grin on his face. Alaya breaks down again. The sobs get the best of her. 

He sighs. "Aly, please. Don’t. I don’t need pity.”

”It’s not pity, Virgil… It just hurts to know what you went through.”

”Aly.”

”Thank you for allowing me to see you. All of you. It’s a meaningful gesture. It means a lot to me.”

”At least you can sleep peacefully. You know I won’t kill you.” She rolls her eyes at him before gently slapping his arm.

”Come here, Aly.” He opens his arms to her. She does not hesitate. Being in his arms brings her comfort and security. The type she rarely ever felt ever since her father passed. She sniffs his cologne, enjoying every second of it. No wandering hands, nothing. Just two persons letting their bodies express affection. He kisses the top of her head, tightening his grip around her.

”Little Virgil is fine. He found peace.”

”At what cost?”

”Aly.”

Silence speaks back to them. Many unsaid stories and secrets linger in the air. Words that were better left unexpressed. 

”I don’t know if little Virgil truly found peace, but I want him to know that he’s no longer alone. I’ll be here for him. He won’t have to carry all those burdens by himself.”

Virgil closes his eyes, his hand rubbing her back slower and tenderly. Before he could open his eyes, he felt her soft lips on his. The kiss is not lustful. Simply loving. That quiet yet powerful love. 

****

Amsterdam now seems far away from them. A quick parenthesis in their lives as business rapidly perked up. In their universe, marriage means strategy. It’s more than a simple love story or obligation. It is an alliance, a deliberate insurance for the future. They know their marriage would cause waves and eventually bring more enemies and betrayals. They needed to be strategic about it. The game all starts by announcing the news to their allies. Them learning it somewhere else is most likely to cause waves. They need to feel included and understand what they will gain from the situation or risk if they decide to switch sides. 

Their first target: Stefano, Alice Cheng’s future husband. A swine of the worst kind. The type who required constant surveillance. In case anything goes down, the security team has received specific orders. Although previous meetings went pretty well, Stefano is a whole different ballgame.

Stefano enters the room followed by a surprised guest, Venus. Something they both anticipated. Her blonde curls lost much of its brightness, just like her now-dull skin. The plunging V she has put on perfectly exposes her full breast. No matter how tough she tries to play, Alaya sees right beyond her little game. 

"Venus, Stefano.” Virgil greets them in a professional, neutral tone. 

Stefano immediately hits back, "Virgil and…the face is familiar.”

”Alaya.” The woman introduces herself, snatching the opportunity from Virgil to do so.

"Ocasio, that’s it?” She calmly confirms with a nod. 

”Oh… Yes, I know you… Ocasio’s daughter” He pauses before adding, ”You have many enemies. Hope you’re aware of it.” The smirk on his face revealed a dark and nasty energy. Alaya does not back down. She bluntly stares back, a crooked smile decorating her face. 

Venus decides to come to the party uninvited. ”And I’m one of them.” The woman chooses to ignore. The blonde would be too happy to get a response. Indifferent is the remedy for people like her. 

Virgil’s rich voice bounces on the walls. ”We’re not coming as enemies. Simply as business partners to agree on new terms and conditions." One thing about Stefano: his acting skills are as bad as his temper. Stefano stares at Virgil, perplexed and confused about the new situation. The smirk on his face vanishes. 

”I only see one partner, here, Skipper.”

”You’re right, we became one last week.” The silence feels like a ticking bomb as their glances play a tennis match, going from one face to the other.

”That bitch is your wife?” The chair crashes on the floor as the blonde rises in anger and shock. Her distress was visible through her rising chest. 

Virgil never once acknowledges her. ”I’m going to ask your sister to respect my wife.” That sentence put an end to any doubts. Wife, clear and simple. For a mere second, Alaya feels Stefano’s energy shifting. The enemy is weakening and doubting himself on his own territory. A subtle signal, they should exploit. 

”Fucking talk to me, Virgil. How could you do that? I was there for you when –" Her voice getting shrill with each syllable. Her eyes glistening with rage and sadness, she clearly could not hide. Stefano notices and puts his mask back on. The mere sight of vulnerability puts a frown on his face. 

”Do what, Venus? Secure his own future? I already told you men are selfish. Learn from them. Did he promise you marriage?” Her blue eyes fall on the floor in embarrassment. 

”This is what I thought… You’re stupid for falling in love with that selfish bastard. Life isn’t about love. It’s about power, and it’s time you fucking do better.” The words are not directed at her, but they cut sharp. Venus sits back down, her wet eyes glued on Virgil. 

He clenches his fists before refocusing on the couple. ”I must admit that I’m very disappointed, my friend. If you needed an ally, why not marry Venus? You and I at the top of the world. It could have been the perfect opportunity to solidify our alliance. Now, I don’t know how to take it.”

Alaya notices the disrespect behind his attitude. That constant lack of consideration she always had to deal with. No stares, no words, basically, erasing her existence. Men like him. She knows them like the palm of her hand. You don’t wait for them to respect you, useless. You command respect. 

With a contained voice, Alaya turns to him. Her left hand on Virgil’s knee to shush him. ”Tell Stefano… You’re way too smart for me to believe that you’d do something differently if you were in Virgil’s position. You said it yourself, power is what gets you.”

She sees his eyes widening, offended at her jab. ”Are you implying that you’re more powerful than me?”

”On certain territory, yes, and you know it. On some, you’re winning. That’s not the point. Would you rather marry someone who can intimidate your allies or simply appease them? The latter never lasts. No one can really appease the beast you call power… So what would you do?”

Stefano clenches his jaw before giggling. ”You’re really your father’s daughter, Ocasio. He was really good with words too.”

”You still haven’t responded, Stefano. What would you do?”

The man passes a hand in gelled hair before nodding. He will never confess out loud, but that nod already means a lot. ”Venus is a beautiful woman. She still can marry a good catch.”

”Keep your compliments and shove them down your throat.” The blonde retorts, her eyes filled with hatred for Alaya. 

Stefano warns, ”Venus. You’re not a teen. Behave!” Suddenly, the puzzle makes sense. The young girl in Venus has grown up to chase love and attention wherever. Her father died pretty early, and all she had left was a big brother too preoccupied by a criminal organisation to offer the type of love and affection a little girl needed. 

”Skipper, my friend. Alaya is right about one thing… Venus is beautiful, and beauty can sometimes be a redoubtable weapon. Especially when polished and treated right. The brain can only take you to an extent. With all due respect, Ms Ocasio.”

Alaya smiles, knowing that little game too well. He had every intention to be disrespectful. She intervenes, cutting Virgil off before he could defend her. ”Fuck a respectability police. We don’t have to do it. Beauty without brain can get you killed. I think you might know a thing or two.” She grins at his reaction. The clench of his fists is almost comical.

Virgil doubles down: ”Stefano is right.” Alaya turns to him cautiously, waiting for his next words. Beauty can be an impressive weapon. Brain isn’t enough to lure people in, but charisma, beauty and brain are a deadly cocktail. It’s a potion only a few can notice before it poisons them.” 

Venus brutally rises from her chair again. ”So you think I’m dumb, uh? I’ve had enough. Fuck you, Virgil. I hope your wife dies very soon so you’re condemned to carry that burden for the rest of your miserable life. Unless she kills you first." You would think the wooden floor would open up under the heavy click of her heels. 

Alaya makes a mental note. It’s a beautiful rebuttal to Stefano’s mean comments. A classy one. Something that might get him a special treat. Stefano turns to Virgil with a smirk as fake as Venus's blonde hair. 

”Is that a threat, Skipper?”

”Not yet. Depends on how much of that cocktail you’re consuming.” The message is clear. Stefano squints, his fingers rubbing his full, shining beard.

”What if I add up a special ingredient?”

”You’re not in the position to add anything, Stefano. I’ve heard about your fiasco with the Chengs.”

His posture changes. He gets more serious. ”I haven’t done anything. I swear somebody framed me, and when I find out who it is, I’m going to deal with them personally. I may not be the smartest here, but I’m no debutant. I’d never fall into such a trap. What would I look like, huh?” 

”You already look like a fool, Stefano. Do you really think people are going to believe that she willingly submitted information? It was foolish of you.” Virgil stays calm, but his tone is firm. Stefano closes his eyes, slowly realising how bad the situation looks. 

”I will make that bitch pay, no worries.”

Alaya stops him. ”I’m afraid it's not going to be possible.” Stefano frowns, clearly baffled by her confidence. Yet the man knows better than disrespecting her once again. Virgil might be patient but rarely merciful.  

"Oh, and who’s going to stop me?”

She responds, ”Your past mistakes.”

He laughs out loud. ”What does it even mean? I’m a businessman, not a philosopher.” 

”The deal is simple: you will renounce your marital project with Alice Cheng because we both know you’re not husband material.”

”What did you just say?”

Virgil snaps, ”You fucking heard, Stefano. Don’t you think I’m aware of your violent tendencies?”

"Oh, miss me with your hypocrisy when you’re out there killing and torturing to ensure your position. Fuck you, Virgil.”

”I’ve never laid hands on women. Never killed innocent souls.”

”So you think you're better than me? That bitch comes into your life and –" Stefano pauses when Virgil gives him a glare that could make anyone pee in their bottoms. Alaya grins in pride. She will always love seeing him handle business. 

”Finish your sentence and you’re dead by tomorrow. I won’t ask you ten times to respect my wife.” 

”No need to kill him. I’d rather have him in jail where the Nigerians are going to deal with his ass.”

”Can’t throw me in jail.”

Virgil makes a discreet sign to his bodyguard, who brings their secret weapon. Maddy appears in the room, her head and shoulders held high as she faces her monster. Stefano's eyes are so wide. It looks like they could detach from his head at any given moment. Alaya interiorly cheers at her confidence.

”Hi, Stefano. Remember me?” Stefano stays still, unable to move. Shocked to know that the alleged corpse is still alive." I’m more than ready to testify today, and I have kept all the pictures and videos of you treating me like an animal. I’ll never let you do that again to me or anyone else.”

”How is it –"

"Me," Virgil answers with full confidence. ”I had to. And sooner or later, I know I’d need her. The deal is simple.” Joah puts a contract on the table with a pen.

Alaya takes her time explaining, ”Deal is simple. After that fiasco, the Cheng are never going to let you near them again. They‘re probably thinking about retaliation too. Let’s avoid a war and sign these papers so I can convince them to have some mercy. In exchange you will pay Maddy and Venus damages for the wrong caused. Second, you replace the burnt merchandise. Lastly, you will sign to never raise your hand on a woman again. If not, you’re free to fight for your life in jail surrounded by enemies.”

Stefano throws his head back, laughing hysterically. His hands throwing the paper on the desk. ”And how are you going to convince the Chengs, Skipper? Why would I replace lost merchandise for them? I’m innocent.”

”Alaya is one of their best allies.” Virgil brushes it off with a controlled nonchalance.

His smile suddenly vanishes as he understands the scope of their power. Virgil adds, ”If they retaliate, you’re by yourself. My marriage protects my territories and businesses. Only a few privileges can benefit from that advantage.”

”Life in jail sounds more appealing.”

”Not when you’re investigated for domestic violence and then money laundering, drug dealing and murder.” He furrows his eyebrows. 

”Good, I’ll share some names.”

Alaya retorts, holding his gaze. ”Depends on whom. Some names might get you killed faster.” No matter how he tries to frame it, Stefano is panicking. He knows he has little to no leverage in his current situation. 

”How am I supposed to replace their stuff?”

”By offering your own products. They’re good quality.”

"Okay, and what am I supposed to do after? Start a charity?”

Virgil plays with the black and gold pen on the wooden table. ”No need. I’ll ensure you get good products, but I get 70% instead of 55%.” His eyes widened in shock. Alaya interiorly smiled. Sitting down to discuss and coordinate both plans together is the greatest business move they made. More money, more territories, no important violence. 

”Are you fucking crazy? Don’t you want me to suck your dick too?”

Joah warns, ”Language.”

His face turns red as he aggressively agitates his hands in the air." I’m Stefano Morelli Ricci. Never forget that.”

”And we’re Alaya Ocasio Cornwell and Virgil van Dijk. Always remember that.” No matter how hard he fights, his faith is sealed.

****

Alaya wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. The car has just stopped, and she had no desire to get caught. Virgil buckles his belt back as they both try to look as natural as possible. Apparently putting enemies on their knees turned them both on. The second they stepped inside, after one or two champagne glasses. Alaya could not resist kissing him before giving him the special treat she noted earlier. He clears his throat, trying to recover from a powerful orgasm.

”Better hurry to get off the car. I’m not done with you.” She whispers in his ear right before their chauffeur opens the door. The night continues with them fucking in their modest two-bedroom apartment.

Nothing special or too luxurious. Simply something that felt like home. A refuge in case the storm comes. Which often happens in their profession. Alaya’s screams bounce on the walls as he firmly grips her hips from behind. Their hips hungrily met as they chased their high. 

”Daddy!” She moans gripping the sheets before her. Ever since wedding bands adorned their fingers, sweet lovemaking disappeared. Something rawer took over. Making love was rare. Fucking, very common. 

”Shhh! Aly, the neighbours."

”Yeah, let them know… Let them know… how good you’re fucking me.” At that, he stutters, his hips weakly moving forward as he twitches inside of her, filling her. 

”Aly, fucking –" His moans, clit rubbing and warm seed send her over the edge. She bits into the pillow to stop a shrilling scream. Her walls pulsing around him, trapping him there as he kisses her with the same fervour.

”I’m going on a business trip in two days.”

She might be out of breath, but her ears are functioning. ”Why would you only inform me now?”

None of them moved, still thrilled and aroused by their fervent escapade. ”It wasn’t planned. A German boy thinks he’s at the top of the world because he stole a part of my territory. Time to bring him back to earth. Joah informed me before we entered the apartment.”

”Why can’t he go over there to deal with him then?”

He sighs at the loss of contact before rolling on his back. Gently, he reaches for her, placing her head on his torso. ”I’d rather take care of it. No excess of courtesy. We’re doing it old school.”

She cackles, her hands caressing his naked torso. ”I’ll be there waiting for your return.”

”Lies. You’ll be there plotting against whoever gets in your way…or finding new ways to launder your money. I know you. Waiting isn’t in your vocabulary.”

She playfully rolls her eyes. A short silence settles before she finally speaks out, ”Come back alive. That’s all I ask.” Now he was no longer a solo rider. Neither was she. Confessing that type of fear out loud is not common. Yet for some reasons, Alaya feels that desire to remind him. 

He kisses the top of her head. ”I will. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I know all that money is tempting, but…"

She giggles. ”You’re a fool.”

”A fool you care about.”

”Unfortunately, sometimes.”

”Would you care enough to…you know…carry his baby?” Her heart skips a beat. They never had that conversation before, as their couple had nothing conventional. Alaya never thought deeply about children because she never imagined herself being married or anything else. 

“Skipper…You went too hard on champagne.”

”No, I’m serious. I want a family. A son or a daughter, I don’t care. I just want a family with you.” Then she sees it, the sincerity, the spark in his eyes. He is serious about the topic. No games, simply a potential future that might include a third individual. 

”I thought you’d be obsessed with sons like men of your status.”

”I don’t care. If that’s a girl, she’ll just have to look at her mom and she’ll be fine.” Alaya cracks a smile. She sometimes hated how easy it was for him. However, that topic required a bit more than reassurance. 

”Do you think having kids is the best idea for us? Our lifestyle is dangerous.” If there is one thing she would never be able to tolerate: losing a child because of her profession. Kids required heavy and constant protection. Growing up the way she did left her questioning motherhood from a very young age. 

Virgil senses her doubts. He gently pats her back. ”Your father protected you until the end. I’ll do the same. I’ll be there to protect them and you, always.”

She loonily stares at him. ”Them?”

”Yeah, I want three.”

”You’re crazy, Virg.” She gasps while smacking his torso. 

”I’m not. What are we doing all of that for then?”

”Ourselves. We’re two selfish people enjoying money and power more than they should.” Which is the reality for most of them in business expect twisted minds that enjoyed cruelty and blood beyond imagination.

”That’s the problem. I don’t want to do things for myself anymore.”

She sighs heavily. ”Virgil…” The thought process is comprehensive. Still her chest aches a bit at the idea. The fantasy of a family. Having bigger goals than one self. But were they ready to pay the cost of it?

”Please. Have a baby with me. If anything happens, I’ll always have that part of you with me.” Now the message is clear. He knows the risk. To the point where he will happily raise a child if it means having a piece of her by his side forever. 

”You want a baby out of fear? This isn’t how it works, and I don’t plan to die anytime soon.”

”I know…It’s just…I want to make sure we get to have a part of us that no one can take away.”

Her hands trace patterns on his torso, silently confessing her love for him. ”Skipper.”

”I want to get up every morning and fight for a bigger purpose. What’s the point of building all that wealth if we plan to die and leave nothing behind?”

”I understand you but if it ever happens, I don’t want them in that universe. That lifestyle dies with us. Maybe we need some planning.”

He asks with the enthusiasm of her child, receiving his Christmas gifts.  ”So it can happen?”

”I didn’t say yes, but we can practise in the meantime.” Alaya suggested, wiggling her eyebrows. 

”Come here, babygirl.” He grabs her face, kissing her as if he had left for years. Alaya melts in his arm, understanding why people say that love is the most powerful and dangerous drug. 

****

”Stefano signed. Time for phase two.”

”Are you sure?”

”Affirmative. Let them think they’re at the top of the world, then we attack.” The two individuals hang up, leaving both of them destroying any evidence behind. 

She takes a deep breath before tilting her head to the side, plunging her eyes into his brown pupils. ”Yes, just enjoying the view.”

”Can I join?”

She rolls her eyes at him in a playful manner. Guéla chuckles before sitting next to her. Hand in hand, both of them admire nature’s wonders. The small rubs against her palm tickle her skin more than necessary. Conceivably, she went too hard on the strawberries. Maybe it is the champagne or a deadly cocktail of both. What a stupid idea to combine two aphrodisiacs at the same time.

”You’re inside of your head, chérie. I can tell. What’s on your mind?” Today hearing that French accent hits differently. It sparks something unfamiliar and pretty aggressive inside her. 

”Hum… Nothing special. Just thinking how peaceful it is here. I could stay here forever.” Her mind interrupts, ”not when your pussy is purring.” She slaps her inner voice for distracting her from Guéla. 

Her eyes wander from his fresh twists to his eyes. ”What did you say?”

”See? You’re not listening, you’re inside of your head.” She looks down, almost ashamed of something that is very natural and normal. Only recently she has interiorized that thought. Desire is a typical reaction, not a sin or sign of impurity. Without realizing, the grip around his hand tightened. She looks elsewhere, embarrassed while releasing his hand.

”What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?” 

”No… It’s—.” She pauses for a second. ”It has nothing to do with you… I mean, partially.” He slightly furrows his eyebrows out of curiosity. Hiding or taming what has been growing for a few days is pointless. Six months ago, they became girlfriend and boyfriend. Guéla and she met through friends.

Although she immediately found him attractive, the athlete part threw her off. She was too inexperienced and scared to deal with such a profile. It was without considering Guéla’s determination. Action after action, week after week, month after month, he kept proving to her how serious he was about her heart. After a long thinking process and some reproaches from her best friend, she folded. 

Romantically and emotionally, she folded. Physically, she wanted to but struggled to get there. For months, that tension had been building. The storm has been coming. Rejecting and taming desire became mission impossible. Especially when Guéla showers her with affection, attention, kindness, safety, and peace. The physique does not help either: muscular body, twists on his head, tattoos, big brown eyes, and a bright smile.

Sex has always been a sensitive topic for her. Growing up under a roof where any activity that did not serve the Lord was seen as pointless and scandalous deeply influenced her perspective. The moment she stepped into middle school, her mother lectured her about relationships and sex.

Forbidden, dirty, drives you away from God, guaranteed trip to hell, slutty—and a long list of adjectives that demonized the act. Although she never judged her friends for their sex or dating lives, the task was harder for her own desires. Each time she tried to pray it away, excoriating herself for lust. As time passed, she forged her own thoughts about the topic. Sex is natural, and so is desire. There is nothing wrong with it. Step by step, she rewired her brain into a new perspective.

”How is it my fault? I’m waiting,” he asks with a teasing grin. 

She finally breathes out, ”I… I’m… I’m horny.” The following silence would have made her blush if her complexion were lighter. Suddenly, Guéla giggles. For a mere second, she regrets confessing to him. Maybe keeping her torments to herself was the best option. He immediately notices her discomfort and stops laughing.

”There’s nothing to be ashamed of, chérie.” He interlaced their fingers, his eyes trying to find hers. Looking at the view instead of him eased the exercise. He gently grabs her chin, plunging his eyes into hers.

”No pressure, okay?“Whatever you decide.” The soft inflection of his voice melts her heart. He genuinely cares. In those six months, he has always been patient and understanding.

“I’m horny... I want to... but I'm not quite ready yet."

"We don't have to do anything, you know? Whenever you're ready, okay?"

"You... you don't understand... it's... it hurts. I need to tone it down."

"Touch yourself maybe... or I can help if you want to."

"How?"

"I can lick you or use my fingers.”

She gulps, trying to push those images away. That feeling at the pit of her stomach intensifying the longer she looks at him. "Fuck. Guéla, you’re not helping. I want that, but I'm not ready to have your face between my legs."

"Have you ever touched yourself?"

Another triggering question. Another thought process she had to fight. Solo sessions often came with more than an orgasm for her. Shame and guilt often arrived uninvited to the party. Yet, the pleasure felt too addictive for her to stop. Only recently she has decided to give herself some grace. 

"Hum… not really. Most of the time I grind on my pillow. I'm scared to put anything there. I tried once and it hurt. Sometimes I play with my clit, but that’s all.”

She notices his lips parting. As time passed, the weight of embarrassment vanished. She is talking to her boyfriend, not a relative. No one is coming to judge her or remind her that she is going to hell. Guéla is kind and attentive. She is safe. 

"Do you want me to do it for you?"

The idea is very tempting. She almost says yes until his muscular thighs catch her attention. Now she has a different idea, something that would guarantee her comfort and pleasure. 

"Actually… I have another idea in mind." She pauses, looking away. "I want... to ride your thighs." He wholeheartedly laughs, not in a mocking way simply to express his surprise. 

"So you want to use me? You're nasty."

She shies away, suddenly too self-conscious of her request. "Don’t say it like that."

"I’m joking, chérie. Of course we can do it. Whatever feels good for you." The sun slowly sets as he repositions himself, making space for her to come onto his lap. With a subtle movement, he gently grabs her waist, sitting her down on his lap, both of her legs around one of his thighs. 

"Want to take your panties off?"

She shakes her head a bit too hastily for her liking. "I like feeling the lace rubbing against my clit." Although her mother’s voice resonated at the back of her head, she shuts her up. She is a grown woman, not a teen anymore. 

Her arms wrap around his neck as she comfortably settles on his thigh. She sucks on his bottom lip, her left hand gently resting against his cheek. Their eyes never drift away. At that moment, time almost stops. That stare never fails to get her.

His stare vocalizes more than words could. She is precious to him. The most beautiful in his eyes. Something she never experienced before. Guéla loses patience and captures her lip. The kiss starts romantically before turning into something that would make her parents blush. His hand lay on her ass, pushing her closer to him. They both got lost in the kiss, their shared love and desire speaking for them. 

He whispers, "Is it okay if I suck on your tits?”

The response is simple. She lowers the strap of her dress, revealing her now hardened nipples. ”Think you’ve been neglecting them for too long.”

Contrary to the catastrophe scenarios she imagined inside of her head. Guéla reacts positively. His eyes glistening with lust as he gently grabs one of her boobs. A gasp slips from her as he massages one while his warm mouth wraps around one nipple.

Quickly the heat of her body feels suffocating. Her eyes closed, appreciating the movement of his tongue and mouth against her skin. The gasps soon turned into moans that would alert neighbours if they had some. 

”You like it?”

Her voice sounds like nothing she heard before. ”Yes, please don’t stop.”

She throws her head back, getting lost in the pleasure her boobs are receiving. If it was the price to pay to go to hell, then maybe she is ready. The ticklish feeling in her stomach keeps growing. She needs more. The lace sticks to her core. Juices already coating his thigh. Never her solo session unlocked that door of pleasure. Her boobs are sensitive, almost too much for him to keep going.

”Please. Please. I need more.”

”Come, ride my thigh.”

His mouth frees her nipple before she readjusts herself, lowering her core on him. They both moan for different reasons. Him turned on by her wetness, her overwhelmed by the new sensations. Their eyes lock when she starts to grind on him.

Slowly and steadily, enjoying every second of it. Her bottom lip is trapped between teeth as she keeps rocking back and forth. The lace rubbing against her pussy only added up to the mix. 

”That’s it, please yourself. You deserve it.”

Her moans are getting louder, matching the intensity of her pleasure. The wetness of her pussy spreads on his thigh and tattoo as she keeps grinding, maintaining her pussy pressed against his skin. The feeling of his intense stare on her only motivates her. She goes faster. Her arms tightening up around his neck. He leans forward, kissing her cheek before resting his forehead against her.

He murmurs, ”Show me how you come when you ride that pillow in your bedroom, chérie.”

This is too much for her. Every sensation or word almost pushes her over the point of no return. His hands firmly grab her hips, following her rhythm, adding pressure on her core. She throws her head back, grinding faster and harder on him, desperate to chase her high. The wet sound of her pussy turning her on. He massages her breast, his fingers lightly pinching her nipples. 

She breathes out, ”It’s…there.”

"Yeah, cum all over my thigh, chérie. Use me."

"Fucking—"

Her moans become uncontrollable as she keeps grinding, clearly enjoying each second of it. She is used to clit throbs and trembling but not to that extent. Her entire body lightly convulses as she navigates her peak. For the first time, she is not questioning anything, she just rocks the wave. 

”I’m here, it’s okay.” He tenderly whispers in her ear before pampering her with kisses.

”Shit. That was intense.”

”How do you feel?”

”Amazing. Just need to change my panties.” Her eyes wandered around, noticing the bump in his denim shorts. She is familiar with the scenario. In six months, more than once she felt his member hardening against her thigh or behind as they kissed. However, today she feels bold enough to do more than let him deal with it by himself.

"You're hard."

"I'll take care of it. Tonight is all about me.”

”If it’s all about me, then let me help you.” She murmurs, rubbing him through his shorts. ”Tell me what to do. Show me. I want to please you too.”

”Are you sure?”

”Yeah. 100%.”

He pecks her lips one time before raising his hips to lower his boxers and shorts. The sight of his member catches her attention. 

”What do you want me to do?”

”We’re going to start slow.” Without further explanation, he grabs her hand, wrapping it around himself. ”Up and down, slow.” She follows his instructions, her eyes glued to him, capturing what he likes. Slow and steady. She lightly tightened her grip around him.

”I’ll do whatever you want. I’m yours.”

He bucks his hips in response. She observes, aroused by his reactions. The way he bites his lip, throws his eyes back and moans in French could make her cum again.

”Merde, a bit faster, chérie.”

She obeys, focusing on his reactions instead of his orders. Slow, steady, faster – she found the rhythm that had him crazily rocking his hips and moaning her name out loud. He finally twitches in her palm, groaning out loud until he finally reaches his peak. The warm liquid covering a part of her hand intrigued her. A part of her wants to taste. The other is begging her to behave. She has done enough for the day. He breathes out loud, collecting his thoughts. 

”How do you feel, babe?”

”Better. You’ve been so good to me.” He pecks her lips. 

”You too, I love you.”

”Love you more, chérie. Let’s clean up the mess we both made and order some dessert.”

She giggles, "Oh, you do know me!” One thing is sure: she will not last. Today was an entrée, and she wanted more. By the end of their vacation, she will get the full meal. 

****