Page 59 of I Love My Mistake

He jumps up and mounts me, pushing in the tip of his cock, and locking onto my eyes with a ferocity that makes me go wild inside. “Fuck me!” I moan and grab onto his shoulders to wrap my legs around his waist, bringing my ass up to him. He pushes in more, then more and more, until he’s all the way inside me. Our eyes don’t let go. I am enraptured by everything he is. By the way he looks at me. By the way he fucks me like his animal has been freed. By the way his body moves in mine, completing me. By the way mine opens up to receive him. By the way his tongue tastes in my mouth when he comes down for long, slow kisses as he hammers into me.

By the way his need for me matches mine, for him.

He reaches under and lifts me up to a sitting position on his lap, my legs around his waist, his knees bent beneath me, his cock buried deep. I ride him like this, loving the power of his hips as he meets me halfway, the strength of his hands on my ass as he lifts me in perfect matching time. He bends and reaches for my breasts with his mouth, finding and teasing them. Beads of sweat roll down his huge, strong back and I slide my fingers around, pressing in. He twists and moans and comes up to kiss me, saying huskily, “You’re so wet. I can feel you dripping.” I breathe, “I’m on the pill. I promise. Please don’t pull out.” He buries his face into the curve of my neck and says, “I won’t” as I grab onto his hair and scream from the next shocking wave of orgasmic pleasure lashing through my body. Our mouths come together as the walls inside me begin to shake and vibrate with an orgasm as deep as I’ve ever felt. I yell out as he pulls me closer to him, undulating his hips. “Oh god,” he moans, twisting against me. His body jerks once and his cock presses hard inside me as my inner walls grip him tightly again and again in delicious contractions. A primal yell rips from him. He grips his arms around me so tight I can’t breathe, his body quaking, plunging into me over and over. He yells out again, his chest and mine panting together, struggling to breathe as we come down from the high, nuzzling and kissing. I pull away from the kiss, first. I put my forehead to his and try to focus. He smiles that warm smile; the animal resting, Mark back in its place.

I’m overwhelmed and don’t know what to say to him. This wasn’t like the sex I’ve been having. This was raw. I feel transparent. I was who I really am for the first time outside of painting. This was my first time with another human being where I felt like I wasn’t hiding anything, wasn’t trying to be anything. I was wholly and completely me; raw and wicked and sweet and true.

“Thank you,” he smiles.

My fingers drift up through his hair. “For what?”

“For spending your Saturday with me.”

I give him a hug, holding him tightly, my head on his chest. “You’re welcome.”

He rests his cheek on the top of my head and we stay like this for awhile, absorbing it.

I say silently to my angel, Thank you for not giving me his number. If I’d had it, this wouldn’t be happening. I would have bailed out.

“Let’s go see the city,” I say, softly.

“Okay.” He kisses the top of my head and lifts me up off of him. We both groan as our bodies separate.

“I’m going to get cleaned up,” I say, sliding off the bed as he watches me, stretching out and lying on his side, propped up on an elbow. I look back and take in the breathtaking sight of him. “I could paint how you look right now.”

“Me? Look at you.” He laughs and shakes his head.

I grin and go into the bathroom, close the door and clean myself off. “Will you hand me my clothes?” I call out.

“Sure!” Soon there’s a short knock on the door and he slides them in through a small crack. I laugh and he chuckles and closes the door again to give me privacy. When I come out, he’s dressed and walking the vase into my studio. He set it on the solitary table, next to burnt out candle stubs and dirty paintbrushes. I point to my mess. “See? I warned you. I’m not tidy!”

He shrugs. “We’ll have a maid.”

My eyebrows fly up. “We?”

His eyes dance as he walks to the front door and holds it open. “After you.”

Grabbing my bag and my keys, I walk out first and say over my shoulder, “Lock the bottom lock, please.”

“Whatever you say.”