CAROL MARINELLI - Australian Affairs - Tempted - Tempted by Dr. Morales

‘Did you go to the store on the corner of Beach Road?’ Juan asked.

‘Yes, why?’

‘He suggested this one to me, too. I am still not up on Australian wine.’ Juan led her through. He was wearing black jeans and a silver-grey shirt and there was his bottle already open. He was chopping up cucumbers, it would seem, and sexy music was on.

‘We put this one in the fridge…’ Juan said, and took it. He went to get a glass, but first he seemed to remember what he had forgotten to do at the door. He gave her a brief kiss on the cheek, a sort of European greeting kiss, which was very nice and very friendly and very tame…

She glanced down to see that he was barefoot. Cate had never found feet sexy, but his were: he had very long toes, which made her aware that her own toes were curling. His eyes were looking not at her but at her oiled and scented body and at two thick nipples that were poking out like two mini-erections. There was a throb between her legs and, for safety’s sake, she should have worn a bra, Cate thought.

‘You’re shorter without your high heels on.’ Cate said and, as she spoke, even Cate didn’t recognize her own voice—it was thick and loaded with lust—and it was then she found out how nice the wine she’d bought was, because she got a taste, and not from the glass.

He wedged her to the kitchen bench and she was kissing him back. Frantic, hungry, pre-dinner kisses. She wondered what on earth she’d been worrying about, wondered why on earth she hadn’t spent the last few weeks being slammed up against his kitchen bench or taken on the floor.

‘Sorry,’ he breathed, prising his face from hers. ‘That’s why I didn’t kiss you at the door…’

‘It’s okay.’ Cate understood, she understood completely.

‘I’ll get you a drink,’ he said, ‘and then…’

Oh, what was the point? She was hauling him back now, because they had to have sex, they absolutely had to. Cate had never had to have sex before—it had never been an absolute command. Juan was kissing her again, lifting her up onto the kitchen bench and undoing the tie on her top.

‘God, I’ve been wanting you for weeks,’ Juan said.

She was naked from the waist up on the kitchen bench; she’d never been devoured like this before.

Not once.

Not once had she known the bliss of absolute unbridled lust. His tongue was at her nipples, licking, nibbling, sucking. He uttered breathless words that he would get to them later, that now, just now…‘I have to be inside you.’

Cate’s hands were just as busy as she almost ripped off his shirt, because she wanted to, had to, see the bits of him she hadn’t seen before. She wanted to prove to herself, as if she needed to, just how delicious he was. Cate pulled his shirt down over his shoulders but it was difficult to get the last bit over his arms as he was face down and buried in her breasts, but the second his hands were free Juan was lifting up her skirt. It was as if she’d known him for ever, as if it was completely normal to be heading for the zipper she was sliding down. Her only regret as she ran her hands over his delicious length was that, when she’d got ready for tonight, she had even bothered with panties.

Time really was of the essence but it didn’t deter Juan; his fingers parted her and he was stroking her, his mouth a hot, wet demand on the senses in her neck.

‘I want to see you,’ Cate said, as she just about pushed him off. She looked down at the sight of him huge and erect in her hands and moaned with want.

‘We have to go to the bedroom,’ Juan breathed. He went to lift her but she resisted, frantically patting the bench for her bag. Yes, she was taking a chance tonight, but not a chance like that—and the groan of relief from him as she pulled out some condoms was her delicious reward for being sensible.

‘Good girl…’ Juan said, grabbing the foil.

He had it on in an instant, and she should be ashamed of herself, Cate thought, except she wasn’t.

She didn’t even get to take off her panties. He merely pushed them aside and, huge and precise, he was inside.

‘Oh…’ He said something in Spanish, something that sounded crude, that matched their mood. He switched to English. ‘I want to see you too,’ Juan said. ‘I have to see you.’

He took the knife he had been chopping the cucumbers with. She was trying not to come, trying to stay still as he cut off her knickers, and she felt the twitch of him inside her as he tried to hold back too, his eyes devouring her, freshly shaved and just for him.

They watched for a moment, just for two decadent thrusts, before her legs were tight around him and there was no need to look any more.

No, need for ‘Is that nice?’ she thought as he bucked inside her. No, ‘Like that?’ or ‘Is that better?’

There was absolutely no need for Juan to question her enjoyment or pleasure, for Cate was sobbing it to the room. Her nails were digging in his back as he came deep inside her, as nearly three months of foreplay exploded inside Cate and she pulsed around him in turn.

‘Dirty girl,’ he said, as she swore for the first time. ‘Beautiful girl,’ he said, as he shot inside her again, as her deep pulses milked him dry. Then as she tried to get her breath back while resting her head on his shoulder, as she looked down at the chaos of their clothes, they started laughing.

Juan still inside her.

‘I needed that bad.’ Juan kissed her, kissed her and chased away the embarrassment that was starting to come.

‘So did I.’

‘Now,’ he said, sliding out, remarkably practical as Cate sat there feeling dizzy, ‘you sit over there on a stool and I can get you that drink, and then I can concentrate properly on making dinner.’

‘Did you just say what I thought you said?’

Had they just had sex?

‘Yes,’ Juan said. ‘You are a bad distraction in my kitchen.’

JUAN KEPT A very neat kitchen. All evidence was removed—he even tied up her halterneck for her—and then he parked Cate on a bar stool and threw her expensive knickers in the bin. He handed a glass of wine to her.

‘Better?’ Juan said.

‘Better.’

She couldn’t believe it. Five minutes in his house and she’d had the best orgasm she had ever had. She felt a little stunned, a little breathless but enjoying the view. She was sipping her wine as if it was normal to watch him cook and see the scratches on his back that had come from her.

‘Can I help?’ Cate offered, because wasn’t that what you were supposed to say?

‘Relax,’ was Juan’s response.

It was bizarre that, for the first time around him, she could relax properly.

Juan picked up the knife that had sliced her panties and with a smile that was returned he carried on chopping the salad.

He could chop too.

Fast, tiny, thin slices.

‘You’ve done that before.’

‘I helped in the family business,’ Juan said. ‘After school and during medical school. My family have a…’ he hesitated for a moment, perhaps choosing the right word ‘…café.’ He moved and took the fish steaks out of the fridge and she heard the sizzle as they were added to the pan.

‘They smell fantastic,’ Cate said. ‘What was the marinade?’

‘Chimichurri,’ Juan said. ‘It is Argentinian. There are many variations but this is my mother’s recipe that I make for you tonight.’

It was soon ready and they took the food outside to the table that had been laid. There was even a candle and, as she took the seat looking out to the ocean, Cate blinked a little when he put a plate in front of her. It looked amazing.

‘You can cook too!’