No wedding ring.

I paused on that for a moment, feeling the weight of it, before I looked up to his face.

He had a few day’s worth of stubble along his strong jaw, his hair a bit more tamed than I was using to seeing, slicked back slightly. I preferred his hair messy, but this showed off his great nose and high cheekbones. There was a faint trace of purple under his eyes, like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep, but the look in his eyes more than made up for it. They were full of wonder, amazement, and a hint of longing and desire that made me think perhaps I was his favorite food after all.

“Vera,” he said in a low voice, unsure, as if I were an apparition. He kicked the door shut with his leg and walked slowly toward me, putting his briefcase on the counter while his eyes never left mine. We were locked in our gazes, that charge in the air thrumming between us.

I found myself slowly getting to my feet, staring at him, feeling that tiny bit of awkwardness that you get when you see someone you haven’t for a long time, someone that you’ve been dreaming of, someone that owns your body and mind. It was like a first date, each person sussing out the other, wondering if they felt the same, wondering what to do.

At least that’s how I was feeling.

Mateo was never one to overanalyze.

He suddenly marched right over to me, a madness in his eyes, and for a heady moment I thought he might consume me.

He put his arms around me and brought me into a tight, hard, nearly painful embrace, holding me as if I were to be ripped right out of his hands. I was engulfed by his intoxicating smell, that mix of fresh ocean breezes and sensual musk, and strengthened by the feeling of his hard chest pressed up against me. I let out a muffled cry, my body overcome with hunger, my heart desperate for his. I could have been standing in the middle of the Arctic tundra for all I cared; as long as I was in his arms I felt home.

“I can’t believe you are here, my Estrella,” he murmured into my hair. “I can’t believe it. I pray I am not dreaming.”

“I pray for the same thing,” I said, my fingers pressing into him, afraid to lose contact.

He pulled back slightly and cupped my face in his hands, gazing down at me with eyes that burned with liquid intensity. “But you are real.”

He kissed me deeply, our lips feeding the passion in each other, our tongues melding together, sweet and spicy. That python of desire was back, squeezing me until it hurt, making me want, need, crave nothing but him, nothing but this moment. We gripped each other, fire in our fingers, pressed against each other as if we couldn’t get closer. I’d never wanted his cock inside me so badly, that physical link between us, to feel him so deep and thick.

Before I could even tell my hands to act, they were already reaching for his pants, unzipping them, sliding into his briefs and pulling out his cock, long, hard and heavy in my hands. Jesus. I almost came just from touching him.

He groaned at my grip, and that only made me throb even more, my underwear soaked. They needed to come off, now.

We fumbled for each other frantically, Mateo’s kisses growing deeper, his tongue fucking my mouth, and I felt my knees buckling. I nearly fell back to the floor but his hands had a stronghold on my arms. With a flame in his eyes, he lowered me to the rug until I was flat on my back. I hiked up my dress and wriggled out of my panties while he managed to only get his pants and briefs off. He attempted to unbutton his shirt but growled, “Fuck it,” and came down on top of me.

His head immediately went between my legs, and I made fists into his hair, already squirming. “My God, I have missed this taste,” he moaned, the vibration against my clit causing me to gasp and tug hard on his hair. It took no time before his tongue was swirling me to an orgasm. I wasn’t seeing stars—I was the stars.

There was no break, no respite. With my body still riding the wave, trembling with ecstasy, he was positioning his cock at my entrance.

“I must have you, like this, right now,” he said adamantly. “I am clean. Do you trust me?”

Of course I did. I wasn’t going to put a condom on him anyway. If I didn’t trust him by now then I shouldn’t be here. Thankfully, I was religious when it came to the pill.

“Yes,” I said, nearly begging. “Please come inside of me.”

With his hands planted on the rug on either side of me, his answer was a single thrust, going in deep, expanding me. I gasped and he slowly slid out. Then back in again. Then out. Taking his sweet, beautiful time. I stared down at him as he pushed in and out, with his slick cock and his white work shirt. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. I started playing with my nub but soon my hand was replaced by his.

“That is my job,” he grunted, his fingers sliding back and forth between my clit and his cock.

Soon, his thrusts became faster and faster, and he was so adept at control, playing me just right, that I wasn’t coming until he was. Both of us cried out, moaning and jerking from the spasms, riding an endless wave that made my mouth gape open and my eyes roll back. When he began to slow, he remained inside of me, kissing my face gently and everywhere. My eyelids, my nose, my cheeks, my chin. Our breathing eventually returned to normal, but I didn’t want him to pull out yet. I wrapped my arms around his toned back and held him to me, his face in the crook of my neck.

I’d dreamed about having him like this again. It’s what kept me going on those nights where I felt alone and cold and unloved.

A tear rolled down my cheek.

I was finally home.

I awoke before the break of dawn, the world saturated in a grainy ink blue. After the night of sex—on the floor, on the couch, against the wall, in the bed, in the shower—I would have thought I’d sleep for days. But despite all the frenzied activity, I was wide awake, my internal clock all messed up thanks to jet lag. I stared down at Mateo sleeping soundly beside me, so tanned and dark against the cool white of the sheets. I could still hardly believe he was here.

I wanted to run my fingers over his nose, feel his soft lips, his solid jaw, his chin, his cheekbones, but I didn’t want to wake him. I was somewhat surprised at his stamina last night—I had been with guys my age who tuckered out after two vigorous sessions in the sack, let alone five. I wanted to wear Mateo out until he couldn’t possibly go on—that was my new goal.

I smiled to myself at that thought and slowly got out of bed. The light outside was already turning from ink to sky blue, and through the thin glass of the windows I could hear the birds chirping. The only thing this apartment was missing was a balcony. It would have been nice to start the day outside.

I slipped on my boy shorts and my t-shirt since we’d slept naked, and went out into the kitchen to make myself some coffee. He had a fancy espresso machine that would put my barista skills to good use, but I knew it would be messy and noisy. I rummaged through the cupboards, full of food that looked untouched, and finally found a container of instant coffee. While the kettle was heating up, I leaned against the counter and hugged my arms across my chest. The apartment was cool in the morning, which was good considering that Madrid was apparently going through a heat wave. I was so in and out yesterday that I barely had time to feel it.

I went through three cups of coffee, black, my heart being jumpstarted again and again, and just took in the look of my surroundings, my new home. It was going to take some getting used to, especially with jet lag. I know when I was in London, the first few days were spent in a fog and I had done stuff that, looking back now, I could barely remember. I wondered if I would look back at this exact moment and remember everything I was thinking, everything I was feeling: excited, nervous, hopeful, and scared.