Page 21 of I Love My Mistake
Chapter Thirteen
Days Later
Ishould probably eat something. I’m not hungry. I really should get a cleaning lady to clean up those dust bunnies. Turning over the pillow to find the cool side, I look away from my mess of an apartment. I haven’t left, seen anyone, spoken to anyone… since I walked out of the studio; my canvas unfinished, the cigarette still lit, the candles too… and my heart? Undone.
This headache won’t go away and I think it’s from – of all things – too much sleep. My body can’t get comfortable because I’ve been lying down for so long. It wants to get up and move around, but… I don’t. My phone has rung a few times, but no calls have come through that needed to be answered. I’m tired. So tired.
As if on cue, a buzz from my nightstand tells me my phone has vibrated. Just once. A text? An email? Do I even care? I turn my head and look at it, but it seems too far away to reach. But when it vibrates again, something inside me moves and I lean over and grab it.
Jason: What’re you up to?
This is our signal, has been since we first started hooking up, the signal that says I want you. Can you come over – or I’ll go over there. Whatever. However. Let’s find a way to fuck. I close my eyes and rest on my back, the phone on my chest. What time is it? Shit, what day is it? I look at the phone again and see that it’s 10:00 p.m. and I don’t look to see what day, because I’m scared to know how long I’ve been lying here. I stare at Jason’s text. Maybe he can help me. I’d have to shower. Do my hair. I don’t have that kind of energy. As I stare at it, another text comes through.
Jason: I can make whatever ails you... disappear.
I smile. He knows my moods. Or maybe he’s just being funny. I get thoughtful for a second and think, maybe this is my guardian angel trying to help. “You trying to help?” I ask aloud. Silence. “Could you just talk to me once – just once?”
Another text from Jason: Baby, I’m sorry I got mad at you. If you’re not busy, I wanna come by. I’m around the corner. Could be there in ten.
To my angel, I say, “You’re good. Oh, you’re very, very good.”
To Jason I text: “Give me twenty.”
He replies within one second with a happy face.
Swinging my long sore legs off the bed, drugged from depression, I stand up and wobble to the kitchen where I suck down a boatload of orange juice and throw some gluten-free bread into the toaster. I’ll get it when I get out of the shower. Making my way to the bathroom, I see myself in a mirror and almost scare myself to death. I look like a demon possessed me and then took off for greener pastures.
I shower fast, wash my hair and leave the long curls hanging wet past my shoulders. A robe is pulled on, with nothing underneath it. After a gallon of moisturizer gets rubbed all over, some makeup’s applied to cover the demon’s ravaging, and I’m done swishing around about ten gallons of Listerine, I’m good as I’m ever gonna be. I walk fast to the kitchen, the clock ticking, and slap some peanut butter on my toast, shoving it in my mouth and following it with about eighty-nine gallons of water. My mouth is so dry, I have no choice. Popping some grapes in my mouth, and a few slices of green apple (good for breath), and I’m feeling pretty good. But just in case, I put a little lube down below. Jason isn’t small, after all, and I’ve been dehydrated for days.
The knock at the door tells me it’s show time. Let’s see if he can tell if anything’s been wrong…
“Hi,” Jason says, looking super sexy in hip-hugging gray jeans, a white shirt, a darker gray leather jacket and a sexy hat.
“Hey,” I say, my voice low and sultry. I didn’t know until I saw him how much I needed him to come over.
“You just shower?” he asks, walking up to me and picking up some of my hair. “Your hair is wet.”
“It’s not the only thing on me that’s wet.”
“Is that right?” he says, his eyelids half-fallen as he closes in to kiss me. I smile, sliding my arms around his neck. This man won’t turn me down. And he sure as shit isn’t married. That knowledge is delicious.
“Mmhmm. Apparently I’m happy to see you,” I whisper.
“I’m happy to see you, too. And someone else is, too.” He pushes his hips against mine, the soft silk of my robe slides against my freshly cleaned skin and the wisp of fabric does nothing to hide the hot growing bulge that’s trying to open his zipper on its own.
“He is happy, isn’t he?” I purr.
He says in a low throaty growl, “Getting happier by the second.”
“Mmmmm.” I open my mouth and wait for his kiss. He attacks me with the heat of a wild man, sliding his hands all over and kissing me like he’s making up for lost time. I’m lifted up, robe falling off one shoulder, and as he carries me to the kitchen, he gnaws on it like it’s dinner.
“Bedroom is boring,” he mumbles into my neck, setting my ass on the edge of the counter just in front of the sink and grabbing the outside of my smooth thighs and wrapping them around his hips. “You taste so good, woman. You’re better than oxygen.” You can’t taste oxygen, but I get his meaning.
I grab onto his back, pull his shirt off over his head, look into his eyes and say simply, “Jason.”
He gets it – my apology for calling him another man’s name – and he hears me, really hears me. He’s on me heavier and harder than he ever has been, taking off my robe so fast he rips it. He yanks down his zipper and unleashes his steel-hard cock. I moan and claw down his back as he slides it into me, my pussy so eager for him that he has little problem coaxing me to accept all of him with a few shorts nudges. He’s slightly curved upward, like some lucky cocks are, and he hits my elusive g-spot until I feel like I might pee all over him, the sensation is so strong. I know from experience this is just the way it feels – so it doesn’t freak me out, like the first time I felt it. He grabs me by my hair and pulls on it, thrusting into me with a smooth hard burst of strength from his chiseled hips. He leans down and presses his teeth against my neck, massaging it with his mouth, his lips, his teeth. The slippery hammering his cock is giving me, combined with my ass rubbing along the counter feels so good.
“Jason. Pull my hair harder.” He weaves his fingers into the moisture of my curls and gets a better grip; giving it a sweet little tug at the same time he presses his cock in. It’s not pain. More like ownership, like in the cave man days. I’m all about it and I shiver as he fills me again and again, each time giving a little tug. All the while biting my neck in the slowest most sensual way.