“What were we,” he continues, “Chris’s age?” He slides his hand over my shoulders casually and resting my head against the crook of his arm feels like home.
“Yep, I’d say we were right around there,” I agree. Sitting back up, I swallow the last mouthful of my wine and put the glass down on the table. I quickly snuggle back against him, breathing in his scent shamelessly.
“I guess it’s probably because I loved you even then, but I didn’t know how to tell you.” His voice drops, but every word is etched into my eardrums and tattooed onto my heart.
Love me, even then? Does that mean he still…? I look into Mack’s face searching for meaning in the words he hasn’t spoken.
“Should I call you a cab soon? I don’t want my co-workers wagging their tongues about having you out all night,” I look over at the clock. It’s probably already too late for that, but him staying the night certainly won’t help.
“Why would they gossip about me being with you? Don’t you know I went to visit my great-aunt Mildred for the weekend? You’d love her, she’s such a sweetheart,” his eyes glint mischievously.
“Mildred? You don’t have a… oh, I get it,” I have a bimbo moment. I’m not sure if it’s because of the wine or if looking at Mack is distracting me. That’s not true. I know what’s clouding my head, not to mention my judgement, and it ain’t the chardonnay.
He’s gorgeous. I can’t pry my eyes off his blues. With a few drinks in him, they’re the color of a crisp autumn sky. Like a tumbling red maple leaf, I’m being tossed around, trusting him to safely place me on solid ground.
“Well, you can stay here then,” I look down at his lips. Why are they so damned distracting? “But, you’re gonna need to crash on the couch. I don’t want to confuse Chris.” I tell him honestly.
“I can respect that.”
His broad hand slides over the side of my face and under my chin. My heartbeat quickens as my eyes travel down to his pink lips. Suddenly, those perfect lips are crushing mine in a bruising kiss. I can feel the urgency of his desire and the longing on his tongue.
Can he feel how my body craves him?
How my soul aches for him?
How my heart beats his name?
22
Lauren
2014
Mack kisses a trail of burning desire down the tender spot on my neck. I close my eyes, making the heat from his lips build an electric buzz in my body. Each kiss sends pulses of electricity to my nipples, then down to my belly and it spreads down further, blossoming between my legs.
Damn, only Mack could make me so wet from a kiss. A simple kiss was all it ever took to make me crazy. I’ve never been able to resist his lips.
“I can’t wait to taste every single inch of you,” Mack growls. I can feel his teeth graze my neck and a little shiver runs down my spine.
“Every inch, huh?” I smirk at the idea. A girl could do worse than having Mack “Captain America” Forrester worshipping her body. I doubt she could ever do better actually.
“Every inch,” he continues kissing down along my collar bone, his fingers sliding up under the hem of my shirt. “From here,” his fingertip grazes over my bra and I press my breasts against him, greedy for more. “All the way to here,” he drags his hand down over my belly, over my ass and down my legs to my ankles. “Do you think I’m forgetting anywhere?” he teases me and my pussy clenches tight with anticipation.
“Maybe,” I breathe.
“How about here,” his fingers softly make their way back up my leg and stop between my thighs. “I’m gonna love eating your sweet pussy, Lauren.” Mack gives me a quick kiss on my neck and starts tugging my shirt up over my belly to free me. But my body seems to have other plans.
Please, not now.
“Uh, Mack?” I creak.
“Yeah?” He pulls my shirt up over my breasts, exposing my lavender bra.
“I, uh, I’ve had too much wine. I need to use the washroom.” I squirm, hating my pathetic bladder right now. Worst timing ever.
Mack sits back and looks up at me, “God, Lauren, you look horrified,” he smirks. “It’s no biggie, go pee. I’m not going anywhere.” He sits back into the couch looking like he’s been sitting on it since the day I bought it. He looks so perfectly comfortable in my home, like he’s always been there. Like he always will be.
“I’m not horrified,” I lie. “I just didn’t want to ruin the mood.”
Mack suddenly grabs my hand and pulls it between his legs, resting it on his hard cock pressing against his fly. I gasp, but don’t try to pull it back.