Chapter 16: Warning Tremors

Carla came to my house barefoot.

Again.

I didn’t say a word. Just opened the door and stepped back. Her shirt was damp from sweat. Her cheeks flushed from something more than heat. She looked at me like I was the only drink left on earth.

“Sit down,” I said.

She pushed me against the kitchen table instead.

She had me naked in seconds, on my back, her mouth on me before I could breathe.

It wasn’t just urgent. It was furious. Like she was punishing me for making her feel something she couldn’t name.

“No pares ... quédate ahí... ” she whispered, licking the tip and moaning when I twitched in her mouth.

I groaned.

She took it as a challenge.

She stayed down until my knees locked, until I begged, until she pulled back with a string of saliva between us and a smirk I felt in my bones.

She didn’t stop.

She pulled me up and pushed me onto the couch, mounted my lap, and slid me into her like she had something to prove.

“Mírame. Todo. De. Ti.”

Every word was a grind of her hips.

My head fell back.

She pulled it forward. “No. Eyes on me.”

When I came, she held me still with her thighs and kissed me through it, long and deep.

After, she curled up against me, quiet.

Too quiet.

“You okay?” I asked, fingers tracing her back.

Her voice was a whisper. “How are you still like this?”

“Like what?”

“Wanting me. This much. After so many times.”

I kissed her shoulder. “It’s not just sex, Carla.”

She flinched.

Then sat up and looked away. “It’s too much.”

“I’m not asking you for anything.”

“That’s the problem.” She stood. “You never ask. You just ... give. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Across the street, Mama Caceres sat at her kitchen monitor.

The camera feed hadn’t gone dark since morning.

She told herself she was checking on the house. On safety.

But she watched Carla ride Eli like she was claiming territory.

Watched his hands on her hips. Her mouth on his neck. Her commands in Spanish.

Mama’s own breath shortened. Her thighs pressed together.

She didn’t touch herself this time.

But not because she wasn’t tempted.

It was the way Eli held Carla after.

Like she was precious.

Like she might break.

And Carla—Carla let him.

That was what made Mama ache the most.

A few streets away, Yenni stood at the bakery window. Her fingers were dusted with flour. Her eyes on the house she could barely see.

She didn’t know what made her feel colder.

The fact that Carla was in Eli’s house again.

Or the fact that no one told her not to come by.