“Manuela”

My days with Flávio were perfect; we were growing closer and closer. He would drive me to work, then to college, and pick me up from there. We'd go to his house, and when he arrived, he'd already prepared something for us to eat together. Then we'd shower, and he'd take me to bed.

I loved sex with him. I never imagined sex could be so powerful, so wonderful, and that it could awaken in me this need to feel his body against mine every day. Sometimes he was deliciously intense, or as he called it, rough and rustic, but I loved it, loved it when he held me tightly, as if he needed my body almost desperately. Other times, he was slow and gentle, and at those times, I felt as if he worshipped my body, as if he worshipped me, almost as if he touched my soul with his hands. Last night had been like that, as if he'd marked me as his, every inch of me.

I woke up to his kisses on the back of my neck, his hand stroking my hair. I shifted lazily in bed, but didn't open my eyes.

"Open th