Page 58 of I Love My Mistake
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you brought Josh with you last night.”
“Shit. Yeah. Sorry about that.”
A knock sounds on my door.
I hiss into the phone, “He’s here!! He’s here!” jumping around like a maniac.
“Then go open the door and be your beautiful, charming self! And consider yourself the luckiest woman on the planet because that man is hot!!!”
“Thank you, Amber. You saved me.”
“Yeah. I’m good like that. Now go! I’m hanging up!” The phone goes dead. Oh, the little wise-ass knew I was procrastinating.
I yell out, “Be right there!!!! One minute!” and run back into the bathroom to brush on a bit of mascara and some lip-gloss. This’ll do. “Coming!” I grab some red, laceless Converse sneakers and run, sliding around a corner in my socks.
Assuming a stance of poise and calm, I walk slowly to the door and open it, with a nice, cool and collected, normal smile. Mark stands with his feet hip-width apart, one hand comfortably in his gray jeans pocket, the other holding a bouquet of purple roses, his eyes twinkling. The purple is exact same shade I used in my painting.
He leans against the doorframe. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as purple roses. But I also didn’t know there was such as thing as you.”
The shoes drop from my hands and I reach for the flowers. I bring them to my face and close my eyes, drinking in their sweet scent. I peek up at him with my face buried. The calm energy of him disintegrates my anxiety as though it were a figment of my imagination, a dream that fades away. Like he woke me up.
I tell him, “Purple is my favorite color. Did you know it’s the color of the soul?”
His expression is open and unassuming. “I didn’t know that. I just thought these were very you.”
“I just have to put my shoes on. Would you like to come in?”
He smiles, pushes off the doorframe, and walks in, closing the door behind him. “I’ll put those in some water if you want.”
“That’d be great, thank you. The kitchen is in there.”
He walks past me, and soon I hear the water running. I look over at my paintings as I slide on my sneakers. They’re in the same order Michael left them. Thinking about his face as he sifted through them, gives me pause.
“So, where are we going again?” I call out, listening to a cabinet open as he searches for a vase. “They’re above the fridge.”
“Thanks,” Mark calls back.
It takes effort, but I push the image of Michael away. Putting on my coat, I pull it tightly around me against the chilling memory and walk to the kitchen to see Mark standing there, dwarfing the already small space, and holding a simple, tear-shaped vase.
“This good?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Perfect.”
I watch as he fills it with water. His shoulders are broad on his tall figure. His back is covered by a jacket, but I can tell it’s defined by the way the fabric pulls when he reaches over to turn off the faucet. The lines of his jeans make me weak in the knees as they shift with his every movement, and I can feel myself getting wet, the tingles in my panties, distracting me.
I step forward to help. “Here.”
Our shoulders touch as we move the stems, searching for the most appealing arrangement. We glance at each other several times, the chemistry palpably intense. My skin flushes hot when his fingers accidentally brush mine and he catches my eyes and gives me a wink.
“Hey you.”
I smile. “Hey yourself.”
Behind his eyes, something shifts. The little gold flecks come alive. Fiery. Intense. My reserve rips away and I grab onto his head as he lunges to take my mouth in a ravenous kiss. Our bodies mash together, waking up the animals inside us. He tears off his jacket as I tear at my sweater, pulling it impatiently over my head so I can kiss him again as fast as possible. Our mouths jam back together, gasping and starving. I grab for his belt and he plucks open my bra with one snap. Our tongues lash inside each other’s mouths as we test just how far we can go without coming up for air. He manages to shove his hand down the front of my jeans and under my panties, fast. I unzip his pants and grab for him, massaging the hard length of his cock furiously as I pull it out, pushing the fabric out of my fucking way. I throw my leg around his hip while he pushes his middle finger up inside me and makes me scream out in his mouth. He won’t let me pull away, kissing me furiously, latched onto my lips. I gnaw on his tongue and stroke his cock, grab for his balls and hold them. He releases my mouth and yells out, then curls forward, biting and sucking on my breasts as I lean back, baring them to him to do with as he pleases. He licks them. Breathes on them. Heats them up with his tongue, teasing my nipples with his teeth as he vibrates his hand in my jeans. His face is buried in my chest, and I grab on his head and bury my face in his hair, breathing in the sweet scent of shampoo mingled with man, kissing the top of his head repeatedly as I gasp under his caresses, “I need you, Mark.”
He growls, scoops me off the floor and carries me to my bedroom. His mouth devours mine, breaking free only long enough to say, “Not as much as I need you.”
He kicks open the door, throws me several feet through the air, onto the bed. I bounce and stare at him, amazed. He wrenches his pants off over his perfect ass, his cock standing up, full and gorgeous. His eyes lock on mine as he climbs on all fours onto the bed, a muscular beast coming to take me. Every inch of him is muscle that rolls with his approach. His shoulders are beautiful, his chest sculpted to perfection. His lungs rise up and down with passion. He wrenches off my jeans and panties, staring at me, just before he burrows his face between my legs. He gives me one long lick that makes me quiver. Then he takes my clit between his teeth and breathes hot air onto my pussy’s soft, sensitive, silky skin. I wrap my legs around his head and move with his tongue, bringing myself to my first orgasm, quickly. He slides his tongue inside me, pushing it in as I scream out again and again.