“Matias?” he breathed against my mouth.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I murmured. I tightened my grip on his hips so I could hold him in place as I thrust into him. Sam cried out in pleasure as I fucked him without mercy. Water spilled over the edges of the tub, but neither of us cared.
The harder I fucked Sam, the harder he tried to get me even deeper. His whimpers soon turned to pleas and those soon turned to demands that I fuck him harder. By the time our orgasms rolled over us at virtually the same time, I was sitting up with my arms wrapped tight around Sam’s body and he was holding on to me for all he was worth. I let out a ragged curse as I came inside of him. The water made it impossible to feel Sam’s cum on me, but his spasming body told me what I needed to know.
When it was finally over and we sat there trying to catch our breath, Sam softly said, “Who do you belong to, Matias?”
I ran my palm up and down Sam’s back and waited until my silence forced him to look me in the eye because I wanted him to see everything I couldn’t say when I answered him. When he finally did pull back just a little so he could see me, I whispered, “You, Sam. I belong to you. Forever and always.”
Sam’s hand came up to cup my cheek. His eyes looked wet as he slowly nodded his head. Then his mouth was on mine and I knew he’d heard me.
I knew he’d heard everything.
Chapter 26
Sam
Nothing had really changed and yet everything had changed.
Nothing had changed in the sense that Matias hadn't said those three little words I'd been hoping to hear. But I hadn't said them either.
From the outside, it would've looked like we had just picked up where we’d left off before Matias had walked out on me, but nothing was further from the truth. In that sense, everything really had changed. For starters, even though Matias hadn't told me he loved me, he'd said so many things as he’d held me in his arms and declared himself mine.
He was mine. But he was so much more than that. The man who'd barged into my life was once again at my side. He was the man I'd needed in the past ten days, but I hadn't known how to tell him that. I'd hated how he’d constantly apologized to me and meekly asked things of me rather than demanding them or insisting on them. He hadn't been the Matias I'd fallen in love with. I hadn't had the guts to just tell him that, though, so I’d behaved like an ill-mannered child. I definitely hadn't gone about it the right way, but I’d gotten what I wanted in the end.
We’d stayed in the bathtub for quite a while. Matias had carefully washed my entire body as I'd lain against his chest. We hadn't spoken at all, but it hadn't really mattered.
I'd been worried that once we got out of the tub, things would go back to the way they'd been in the early weeks of our relationship. But I'd known as soon as Matias had grabbed a couple of towels that things would be different. For starters, he'd dried me off and I’d done the same for him. Then he’d taken my hand in his and led me to my bed. It was early, so I hadn't planned on going to sleep, but I had waited for Matias to eventually get up and leave like he had in the past. But we’d been lying in bed for over an hour and he was still tucked up behind me, his arm around my chest and his mouth resting against the back of my neck. I could tell from his breathing that he wasn't asleep. There was also the fact that he kept pressing soft kisses to my neck and shoulder every few minutes.
"Tell me what it was like for you growing up," I said softly. I knew I was risking our newfound peace, but I desperately wanted to know more about the man I had fallen so deeply in love with.
"What do you want to know?"
"Where are you from?" I asked. It didn't surprise me in the least that Matias would need some prodding. I doubted he was used to talking about himself.
"My parents immigrated to America when Cruz and I were kids."
"From where?"
"Colombia."
I was glad that Matias kept rubbing his fingers over mine and nuzzling my skin. It meant he wasn't upset about sharing bits of himself with me.
"My father got a job at a factory. My mother cleaned houses. Neither of them spoke English, but they both believed in the American dream. They got the Mexican nightmare instead."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"They became second-class citizens. There was never enough money to pursue any kind of dream. We were looked down on because of the color of our skin and because of our last name. We were good enough to clean houses and work in fields and do all the menial labor that the people with the right color skin didn't want to do, but we weren't allowed to have a slice of that same pie. We became a cliché. A father who lost himself in a bottle every night, a mother who disappeared into her mind more and more, and two kids who didn't have a clue how to survive it all."
"Your father hurt you," I murmured. It was information I already knew, but despite the ugliness of the subject, I needed to hear all of it.
"We didn't talk in our household. For good reason. Our father liked quiet. If Cruz or I disturbed that quiet, we paid for it. I always tried to explain to Cruz that when Dad got home from work, we needed to stay in our rooms. But he was just a little kid and he thought that if he could stop our father from drinking then maybe things would be different. He didn't understand that our father was mean long before the alcohol hit his bloodstream."
"Silence in my house was always a bad sign," I found myself saying.
"What do you mean?" Matias asked.
"Our fathers suffered from the same affliction," I responded.
Matias's arm tightened around me. "He hurt you?"
“Not physically, no.”
"Tell me," Matias insisted.
I hadn't meant the topic to change to me, but I knew that if I wanted Matias to share things about his childhood with me, I would need to do the same. “He’d get lost in his own head when it was quiet. At least that's what I thought, anyway. He'd sit there eating his dinner and then just out of the blue he'd explode. He'd start throwing things and yelling at me and my mom. He didn’t hit me, but the things he said… the names he called me…” I paused because even now I could hear his cruel words.
Matias pressed a kiss to the nape of my neck. It helped me focus on the perfection of the present rather than the pain of the past. “One moment he was quiet and totally normal and the next he was a monster. So I thought that if I could keep him talking, or even just listening, maybe I could stop it from happening. I hated the silence. I feared it. It took me a long time to realize that it didn't matter how much I talked or what I said. Whatever was inside of him needed to come out and he chose for it to come out in the form of cruelty."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
"I didn't have to deal with it long," I said. "My parents kicked me out when I was sixteen. My dad caught me kissing a boy who lived a few doors down from us."
"What did you do?"
"Spent a few days on the streets. That's when I met Mac." It wasn’t until I said Mac’s name that I realized what I was doing. "I'm sorry, you probably don't want to hear about him."