Lily's Mistake(16)

Shit.

I try to control my breathing because I somehow know that Drake thinks  I'm fast asleep. His face is in between my breasts. My heart stops when I  hear him again. "I love you. It's always been you."

Double shit.

That can't be true because if he did love me all this time, he could've  called or visited me, but he didn't do any of those things. In fact, he  simply didn't do anything.

No, it's not love. He's just high on sex hormones.





"Wake up!" Drake nuzzles his nose on the back of my head. His arms held me all night.

"How could you ask me to do that when you kept waking me up so many times last night that I lost count?" I grumble.

I flinch when I feel my overused muscles down south. Shit, it still stings.

When I feel his manhood harden against my back, I'm ready to throw in the towel. "I'm sore. You have to wait."         

     



 

He rolls on top of me, grinning. "I did warn you."

Yeah, he did.

I thought he was just joking. He puts the word insatiable to shame. Drake looks happy. I suppose those orgasms did a good job.

"Stay the entire weekend with me. I already called in sick for both of us." He suddenly looks unsure. "Just you and me … "

Three more days with Drake …  that spells disaster of epic proportion.

Jared. Fuck, I'm supposed to meet him for dinner.

"Okay, I could do that. but I have to do something really quick tonight. Then, I'll just drive out here. I … "

"You've got yourself a deal woman." Drake's eyes twinkle as he looks down on me smiling.

"What?" I ask at his grinning face.

He shakes his head. "I just realized how awesome it is waking up with you in bed."

Oh.

"That's …  nice," I finally manage to respond after a few seconds of pausing.

"What time do you have to leave?" Drake lightly inquires while his eyes  rove over my slightly exposed breasts. He is clearly already distracted.

My breasts are raw and sensitive from his fondling last night, but that  doesn't seem to stop him. I'm relieved when he just uses his tongue,  flicking them with it, while his eyes look at me squarely, waiting for  me to answer his question.

Crazy man. "I'm hoping to leave around five, and then I'll be back tonight."

"Good, good," Drake whispers as he lowers himself in between my parted thighs.

I tense. Oh, my, freaking gods! When will he stop?!

"Drake! No! I'm sore!" I squawk, out of breath.

The man gives me a wicked smile as he lifts both legs and places them on  his back. "I'm just going to eat you out …  nothing more, nothing less …   Well, unless …  you want to do other things, that is. Then, I'm up for  it."

"But … " I linger as the first touch of his tongue delves in between my  folds. The ministrations are soft and hot, but he executes with such  precision it is mind-numbing. Goodness! Is this his specialty? Likely …

"Drake! Drake!" I bellow, my hand clutching a bunch of his hair as I press my hips against his expert mouth.

My body tightens. My vaginal muscles clench, anticipating release. I  half sit-up, loving the sight of Drake in between my legs; it arouses me  more than ever. He jolts me when he instantly shakes his head, making  his tongue flick back and forth in my wet core.

His eyes dare me to let go and I'm getting there …  almost at the finish  line. I hear him groan when his hands lift my hips and his fingertips  grip my ass.

Fucking. Hell. I pant, watching him as my breasts shake from the small  quakes that my body is going through. "Give it to me …  I'm almost there … "  I beg and beg.

His right middle finger goes underneath his tongue, gathering my wetness  in circular motions. I arch my torso with my hands planted straight  behind my back as I stare at the ceiling. I bite my lip when I feel that  finger slide down on that small line in between my pussy and my anus.  That finger teases the sensitive line. My body is set on fire when it  slides lower, rubbing my backdoor entrance with determined purpose.

"Fuck! Drake!" I protest when his mouth leaves my pussy.

"Kiss me," he whispers, while I blink a few times. His finger is making  me feel …  "Kiss. Me. Now," Drake demands, his eyes flashing. With no  patience, he pulls my neck and kisses me mercilessly. "Hang on, tight,  Babe," he tells me before he inserts two fingers inside my wet core.

I am under his spell. Whatever this is with Drake, I am so deep in it. I have no clue how to come out alive and in one piece.

"Hang on tight." Drake's eyes watch me as those fingers of his  frenetically, relentlessly capture my G-spot and hold it ransom. "Come  for me, Baby. That's my girl … " he commands. It's cruel, mind-blowing and  fucking beautiful.

Yes, beautiful. The crushing tidal wave of my screams as my cataclysmic  orgasm surges forth and ripple all over my limp body. It's so powerful  that I have tears in my eyes.

My body is still riding the aftershocks when Drake pulls me into his  arms, stroking my hair, he asks, "How are you feeling? You look  traumatized." He gives a small chuckle.

Traumatized, my ass. I am borderline mental and halfway paralyzed. "What the hell was that?" I wonder out loud.

He kisses my forehead. "That, my dear, is what I call a sublime orgasm."

Sublime orgasm, seriously? "Is that what you specialize in, or something?"

He might be right about traumatized though …  I am when it comes to him.  Does he realize how long it took me to get over his rejection? Two whole  years. I didn't date until I was twenty. How many women has he done  this to? How can a woman move on after him, after this kind of  life-altering, blissful perfection? I know I'm fucked already. Good luck  to me, trying to move forward. Sooner or later, I will eventually give  Drake up, but it will be done with wrenching difficulty.         

     



 

"Think of the perks you can get being with me. I'm not a selfish lover. I  actually love seeing your entire body blush and sweat profusely from my  tongue alone."

Right …  why don't I just lose my head in the process …  since my heart is  already unsalvageable? Why don't we just add that on top on the shit  list?

I keep my mouth shut in case I end up saying something I will regret.  Funny …  eight days …  It took only eight days for me to realize that I'm  still in love with Drake. After eight years of loathing the man, I just  succumb and crumble the second he kisses me.

Drake taught me a lot of things. How to be angry, bitter, insecure,  ugliness, rejection and I can go on and on …  I suppose, since I am in the  shitter, the only thing I can do is be smart with what I tell him.  Confessing my ever-lasting love to him is out of the question. I just  have to be guarded is all.

I try to move out of his arms, needing space, but he catches my hand, stopping me.

Drake frowns as he watches my demeanor change. "Where are you going? It's not five yet?"

"Shower, do you mind?"

Drake tries to look unoffended by my sudden aloofness, but it's not all  that hard to see. "Can I share that with you?" he asks lightly.

"Drake …  I need space …  you're all over the place. I need some space to think."

He nods. Without saying a word, he lets go of me. I sag in confusion  before I let myself in the bathroom and take a lengthy, hot shower.





I am in the shower for almost an hour. I guess, one can say, I am more  than troubled. Since, I don't have any clothes, any panties or dress to  speak of; I hunt for a shirt in Drake's closet.

His walk-in closet is very masculine. Dark cherry wood with a lot of  chrome on black carpet covers most of the design. I almost faint at the  smell of the large expanse of room. Drake's smell permeates the air. My  eyes take in all of his clothes and knick-knacks. Different ties,  watches and shoes are all displayed in shades. He wasn't kidding when he  mentioned his thing about color coordination. I walk towards a set of  drawers and find a large Columbia shirt. I take it out and put it on,  then gather my wet hair and bunch it together, making it into a  haphazard wet bun. I stride out of his closet and pause. Across from me  is another closed door.

Curiosity wins out and I find myself opening the door and flicking the  light switch on. I find myself on Shannon's turf. It's easy to see that  she's gathered some of her things rather quickly because she still left a  lot behind. The size of the closet is the same as Drake's, but hers is  much more feminine. The woman must love purple, a lot, because the  closet is full of the color. I cautiously walk in, stopping a foot away  from the center table and accessory drawer. On it is a smashed picture  frame of them together. They're in a formal setting, possibly a party.  Drake is kissing her as Shannon gazes at the camera, happy and obviously  in love.

I stare at them as emotions roll through me. Was I ever that happy with  another man? I've had three serious boyfriends and they were all great,  but I don't think I was as happy or blissful as the picture portrays.  Shannon radiates it. Drake looks smitten, too. Well, I guess, they were  in love. I mean, they did plan to get married before Drake broke it off.