Hard Rain

nose.
    I dipped my fingers under her chin and tried to draw her upward.
    She tilted her head back and looked up at me. "I want to finish," she
    said.
    I stooped, placed my hands on her upper ribs, and raised her to her
    feet. I slipped one arm behind her neck and the other under her ass,
    stepped forward, and scooped her up. She laughed in surprise and
    clasped her arms around my neck.
    "There's something I want to finish," I told her.
    The living room was attached to a small kitchen and an only slightiy
    larger bedroom. I headed toward the latter. I was dimly aware of my
    hard-on swaying before me like some absurd blind man's cane as I
    walked.
    There was a futon on the floor just inside the bedroom doorway. I
    stepped onto it and gently set her down on her back. She slipped her
    arms from around my neck, her palms brushing past my ears and face. I
    reached down with both hands and eased the thong over the flat of her
    pelvis. She raised her hips and the garment moved over the curve of
    her ass. I pulled it past her ankles and tossed it aside.
    I put my hands on the futon on either side of her and kissed her
    throat, her breasts, her belly. I made my way to the creases of her
    thighs. She grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of my head and
    pulled hard enough to make it hurt, but I made her wait longer before I
    gave her what she wanted.
    When I did, she exhaled sharply and tightened her grip on my hair. I
    drew my knees up and took her ass in both hands, raising it off the
    futon. I heard her say, "Isso, isso, continual felt her other hand
    move to the back of my neck. I glanced up. Her stomach muscles were
    clenched tight, her breasts trembling slightly from the action of my
    head and hands.
    I took my time with her. She tasted clean and salty and sweet. Her
    fingers ran through my hair, sometimes grabbing, sometimes pulling, in
    time to the way I was touching her. I didn't rush it, even when the
    pressure from her hands urged me faster.
    I heard her say, "Isso," again, over and over. Her legs rose behind me
    and tightened across my ears, and her voice was suddenly far away,
    reaching me as though from underwater. Her legs tensed further, her
    knuckles dug into my scalp. Then her body slowly unwound and sound
    came back into the room.
    I lowered her back to the futon and looked at her. The gray light of
    the room had grown a shade brighter. It picked up the green in her
    eyes, and without thinking I said, "You're beautiful."
    She reached up and took my face in her hands. "Agora, venha aqui," she
    said in Portuguese. Come here.
    I went to her. She reached down for me but I found my own way in.
    I slid my hands under her arms and around to her face.
    I dipped my head forward and closed my eyes, the way I had once been
    taught to pray. I felt her lips against my face, mouthing silent
    words.
    A minute went by, maybe two. Our movement together, back and forth,
    gradually slowed, like waves advancing and receding on a beach. More
    than that and I knew I was done.
    She arched her head up to mine and the kiss quickened. I felt a
    sensation, like purring or a low growl, across her lips and tongue.
    "Agora, mete tudo," she said, her mouth moving against mine. Now,
    everything now.
    She pushed against me, not holding anything back. I held her face in
    my hands and kissed her harder. She raised her knees and I felt her
    thighs and ankles sliding against my hips. We moved faster. She
    locked her legs around my back. I heard her moan something in
    Portuguese. My back arched and my toes dug into the futon, and I let
    myself go with a long kussouu that sounded as much like pain as
    pleasure.
    The strength flowed out of my body and I felt suddenly heavy. I lay
    down on the futon beside her, facing her, my hand resting lightly on
    her belly.
    "Isso,for otimo," she said, turning her head to me. That was
    delicious.
    I smiled. "Otimo' I repeated. My limbs felt jellified.
    She covered my hand with hers and squeezed my fingers. We were quiet
    for a moment. Then she said, "Can I ask you something?"
    I looked at her. "Sure."
    "Why were you so reluctant, at first? I could tell you wanted to. And
    you knew I wanted to."
    I closed my eyes for a moment, flirting with sleep. "Maybe I was
    afraid."
    "Afraid of what?"
    "I'm not sure."
    "I'm the one who should have been afraid. When you said you had
    something you wanted to finish, I half thought you were going to try to
    spank me again."
    I smiled, my eyes still closed. "I would have, if