B-ronken-R-ing 159...

***

Cárcel found himself retreating until he felt the console table press against the back of his thigh.

Inés leaned her whole body against his torso, causing the table's edge to dig further into his thigh muscles. It looked like he was perching on it, but he strained to keep upright, his backside still hovering right above the table. Before he could gather his thoughts or stop Inés's bold advance, her nimble fingers had already begun to work at the small buttons of his trousers.

Each brush of her fingers sent an electric thrill through him, inflaming his desire. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as his undergarment came into view, revealing the prominent bulge. One glance from her was enough to stoke the flames of his passion. She pressed her lips to his with a confident smile, aware of the effect she had on him.

Cárcel met her kiss with fervor, like a parched traveler savoring a long-awaited drink. Ines chuckled against his lips, her teeth grazing his lower lip to coax his mouth open, her tongue venturing within to share his breath. While Cárcel was absorbed in their embrace, her hands brushed down his bare back, slipping into his loosened trousers. Her fingers dug into his undergarment and found his bare skin.

A low growl rumbled from Cárcel as her hand grasped his taut backside before drawing his undergarment and trousers down to his hips. His erection sprang free, and Inés pulled him closer, her hand still planted firmly on his backside, stepping between his legs so that his arousal pressed against her soft stomach. She didn't bat an eyelash at the sensation of his hardness against her.

Cárcel resented the way her small mouth claimed his tongue, showing him just how she had him wrapped around her little finger. She was displaying the power difference between them, her ability to make him kneel with a simple gesture. She was an intelligent and wicked woman, yet she had never truly wronged anyone. It was ironic that this woman he deemed most pitiful and tragic was also the mightiest presence in his world.

Her intrinsic dignity and her upright nature that never waned even amidst life's tempests, filled him with pride. He cherished the authority she exercised over him, and he was infinitely grateful for the strength she had shown in enduring trials after trials to stand before him once more.

Soft moans escaped them as his arousal rubbed between his sinewy abdomen and her soft, yielding belly, moving up and down as though he were already inside of her. On any other day, his hands would have eagerly hiked up her dress, but today they were clinging on to the back of her head and neck as they kissed.

It was a desperate kiss, his weight pressing down upon her. But Inés simply tilted her head back to receive his kisses without any signs of discomfort, teasing the tip of his erection rubbing against her. She stroked him with a gentle hand, spreading out the wetness that had already leaked out, then ran her palm along his whole length. He was too large for her to cover with one hand, so she swept her palm up and down, twisting at the base with playful reproof as she bit down hard on his lower lip.

The stinging pain only heightened his desire, driving him wild as her hand moved rhythmically along his length and her knuckles brushed against his tense abdomen. The room filled with the soft, intimate sounds of her touch. Their lips parted for a brief gulp of air before they crashed against each other with renewed fervor. Her other hand caressed the contours of his tightly flexed backside, then traveled down to his thigh to pull his trousers and undergarment further down his legs. With a decisive motion, she raised her foot and stomped down on his garments, pushing them down to the floor.

Not a single button had been undone on Inés's dress, while Cárcel stood exposed before her. She pulled away from his lips with a wry smile, her expression one of teasing triumph. Her gaze, cool yet intense like peridot flames, traveled from his broad shoulders to his sculpted chest and muscular stomach, pausing with an amused satisfaction at his swell. Her eyes then wandered down his powerful thighs to his feet.

"Raise your foot, Cárcel."

"Inés."

"Listen to me," she soothed, her voice tender yet commanding.

"Please, no more..." Cárcel muttered feebly, torn between urging her to stop and falling to his knees to beg her to let him enter her. His mind was a tumult of emotions.

Inés let out a huff of laughter, asking in a gentle tone, "We have only just begun. Why would I stop now when you are already so eager from my touch alone?"

Indeed, he thought he would rather die than have her stop. It was better to perish than to lose her warmth. Her presence was a consuming force, leaving him breathless, as always.

Cárcel stepped out of his boots and watched her press her delicate foot against his uniform, freeing him entirely from its constraints. His mind reeled with conflicting thoughts, part of him awash in guilt akin to that of a devout boy experiencing forbidden pleasures for the first time. He felt as though his senses were detached, leaving his body powerless to stop what was unfolding.

"Now, show me," she said.

"Inés."

Her enchanting smile widened as she withdrew a few steps, her fine peridot eyes gleaming with playfulness. She was so endearing that he felt overcome with the urge to wrap her into a bone-crushing embrace, yet he remained rooted in place, fearful of hurting her. It had long been his habit to channel his energy into relaxing his muscles whenever they flexed from sheer arousal.

Inés's teasing gaze lingered on his erection, then moved on to meticulously study him from head to toe, as if seeking reassurance. Though he never wanted her to worry, her concern was a sweet balm. 

He felt guiltier still for allowing his arousal to grow in response to her heartwarming gesture.

She desired him and cared for him, all because she was deeply fond of him. As Cárcel watched Inés's gaze settle on the old scar on his foot, he recalled the way she had run to him earlier, throwing her arms around him as though she had been awaiting him forever. Her panting against his back, her warmth enveloping him, had gripped his heart. In that moment, he felt like they had become one, breathing in perfect harmony.

Even as he turned his back on God, embittered upon learning of her tragic fate, she made him believe again. Without divine grace, he could never have been born to feel this way. Someone as endearing as her never could have existed in this world without it.

He should have been content with the life he had been granted from the start. He never had any cause for doubt, as long as she stood before him, alive in this moment.

"Turn around," she said again.

"There are no other wounds, Inés."

"I suggest you comply with my request instead of wasting time with excuses." Her tone was imperious yet endearing. She gestured with her chin for him to turn around like an officer searching a thief for stolen goods.

Cárcel clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to thrust his hips, and wheeled around to face the console table. As he could no longer see her, his other senses seemed to be heightened. He could hear her breathing a little faster than usual, still winded from their kisses. After a moment, he sensed her drawing closer, and soon her hands were against his back, lightly pushing him forward.

"I see no wound, just as you said," she muttered, her hand wandering to his side, then down his stomach before closing around his arousal once more. "And yet, something seems amiss with you, Cárcel."

"Blast it, Inés..." he moaned.

"Why do you restrain yourself when I have stirred you so much? Oh... except for this part of you, of course." She pressed down on the head with enough force and left a trail of kisses across his bare back, lightly drawing her fingernails down his length. "At least this part of you never lies."

"Inés, please…"

"It is peculiar. Normally, you would have already thrown me onto the bed, your head buried between my legs, and yet here you stand, only daring to suck on my lips, even in this state," she observed, her voice soft and quiet with a dangerous edge. "You look like you have narrowly escaped death. I felt such pity for you that I considered turning a blind eye, but you have refused to meet my gaze."

Cárcel's breath caught in his throat at the disappointment and resentment lacing her words. If she weren't twisting the base of his member as if to punish him, he might have turned around with tears of apology in his eyes.

He suppressed the sudden urge to spill his seed that ran down his spine and placed his hand over hers. He managed to pry her hand off his erection after she gave him one long, languid stroke. Though her grip wasn't strong, it felt like he needed the strength to lift a giant boulder to release himself from it.

When he turned to face her again, her lips crashed against his in another kiss, but this one was very short.

"You desire me, do you not?" she asked.

"I always desire you, Inés."

"What are you hiding?"

Cárcel couldn't form the words lingering on the tip of his tongue. She was the one hiding things from him; she was the one who owed him an explanation. He couldn't bring himself to reveal that he had uncovered everything, or at least part of the truth now. There was nothing he could possibly say. He dared not mention Emiliano, the child she had supposedly killed with her own hands, or her tragic ends. Or that he had been there, at the beginning of the life that had gone awry.

The echo of Oscar's vile, disgusting words haunted his mind again: "I wonder if Inés knows of your sordid affection for her. The woman you love is no better than a common harlot to me."

Lost in thought, Cárcel watched as Inés looked up at him, her lips brushing against the tip of his thick length. Her beautiful face filled his vision, but the fiery determination to push him to the brink that had lit her eyes-that passion, vitality, and affection-suddenly seemed to vanish, replaced by a vacant stare and a pained furrow of her eyebrows. He then saw an illusion of her face pinching with disgust and wrath.

It struck him then why he could never truly enjoy her ministrations. Nothing she ever did was unwelcome, and yet this had always made him feel uncomfortable.

Even on their very first night together, she had performed the act with detached nonchalance, as though she had done it a thousand times before. Back then, he had ground his teeth with anger, imagining that this was the trace of a lover she had once cherished. He despised the man who had taught her to endure such indignity. He resented Inés Valeztena for loving a man who dared to make her part those noble lips and treated her like a hole in which to force himself into. The self-respecting Inés he knew would never have so readily accepted a man's erection into her mouth as though it were nothing. That had made him uncomfortable.

His memory of Oscar's words continued to plague him. "If I put you in her bed..."

Cárcel clenched his trembling hands into fists as he managed to gently push her away. "Inés..."

Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision. As they traveled down his cheeks, the nightmarish sight of her hollow gaze faded, revealing her confused face. It was much closer to her usual expressions from happier days-the Inés he held so dear, whose laughter and warmth brightened his world. He sank to his knees, pressing his lips against her forehead, weeping.

In the past, she might have had no choice but to think of such acts as inconsequential. Because she wouldn't have been able to endure that hellhole otherwise. He wanted to tell her that everything was different now, that nothing would harm her, and that they would be fine. That he knew everything, and that it was all right...

Even as he yearned to comfort her, Cárcel recognized his selfishness. He was the one who sought comfort in the act of sharing his knowledge with her. Inés had finally found a peace in their life together, a semblance of happiness, as though nothing bad had ever happened to her. She had promised to tell him about everything when she was ready. However, he feared time might not be on their side.

He recalled with horror the four years she had spent in Perez in isolation, and the way she had gasped for breath at the mere sight of the peridot pendant whose gold chain now lay in his luggage. He dreaded the seizure that might overcome her when she encountered the traces of her past in this life physically, instead of just in her memories. It felt as though they were sitting atop a sandcastle ready to collapse at the slightest wrong move.

Would his knowledge of her former lives be a source of comfort to her or yet another burden? The question weighed on his heart.