"Is she-was she happy for you?" Of course she was happy for him. Stupid question.
"She didn't really say anything, actually. She just gave me the vegetables and sent me home." Well, just a tactless question, then. Damn. I had no idea what to say. If it wasn't a mistake, and I told my mom that my comic was getting thousands of views a day, she'd be thrilled for me. But then, of course, she'd go look at it and I could not have that. The whole upside-down sex position thing, for one.
But it was a mistake. I was dead certain.
I walked over to the cabinet and pulled a couple of plates out. We'd been talking so much our glasses didn't even need refills. Perhaps that was part of the drinking problem then, too. We mostly just chitchatted in between gulps, but doing it the other way around was far more productive.
"I bet she just needs some time to adjust." I let my hand rest on his shoulder as I set the plates near him. He covered my hand with his briefly and I closed my eyes to capture the moment.
Then it was gone, and he was plating our dinner. It was quite a spread, too. Salad, sautéed peppers and okra, and roasted beans all surrounded perfectly brown-crusted filets. Just a garden dinner. Good grief. He'd even set a couple of candles on the table-from his mother's workshop, no doubt, because they smelled of lavender and vanilla. Would there be no end to the things I was learning about Marc? As I cut into my perfectly-cooked meat, I had to wonder.
If he had any idea what a catch he was, why would he be wasting his time on me? I was just a girl too anxious to gain any real life experience, coloring pictures for the internet in my room.
But after taking my first bite of garlicky buttery goodness, I found it hard to worry about anything except how quickly I could shovel it all in. I didn't even think I liked green beans, but whatever magic they'd been cooked with turned them into something truly glorious.
"Marc. You may have missed your calling. Leave history in the past, and cook for your future," I told him between swoons.
"Your standards are low, Miss Cereal for dinner," he chuckled. "Wanna throw a movie on?"
Obviously I did, because movies are the very best way to spend an evening, and I was pleased he'd thought of dessert all by himself. I had a fresh box of Lucky Charms Oops All Marshmallows just waiting for this occasion. After I successfully resisted licking my plate, I grabbed the bottle of wine and headed to my poor cuckolded couch to flip through the available movie options. The bottle was surprisingly heavy-I could hardly believe how restrained we were.
This was a truly grown-up evening. The choice of movie was where I stumbled. Even though I was certain I could find an action movie based on a cartoon we'd agree on, it just didn't seem like the right vibe for the evening. But then, neither did a romantic comedy.
The screen was flipping through the "Recommended For You" options when Marc came over and sat down next to me. Not on the other end of the couch, but right next to me, close enough for me to see his biceps ripple as he pointed at the screen.
"Full disclosure. I kind of wanted to see that, but I wasn't about to ask Ava to go with me, and there's not a man I know who'd do that instead of Poker Night." I followed the line of sight and was utterly shocked and scandalized to see that the movie in question was none other than Fifty Shades of Grey. He might not have asked Ava, but I was one hundred percent texting this in my update to the girls later.
"I didn't see it either," I admitted. "Although I am fairly certain Scarlett and Ava went four times. And I know for a fact that Lizzie owns it."
"Why didn't you go?" he asked. It was a fair question. One that deserved a fair answer. And it was embarrassing, so I did actually refill my glass before saying it out loud.
"I knew my friends would all call me Anastasia afterwards," I said in a hurry.
"I don't get it." The opening credits had started already, a rainy day in Seattle that was exactly as many variations on the hue as advertised.
"You will." At first I was silent because I didn't want to say any more. Then I was silent because I was utterly enchanted. The girl I didn't want to be compared to because she was inexperienced and a little dumb? Well, it turned out she was actually quite intelligent and very funny to boot. I watched, mouth open, as she wove her spell around the hapless Mr. Grey. But when he took her into his special sexy room, I was truly floored.
It was flipping hot.
My suspicion was that Marc felt the same way, because his hand had inched over to sit on top of my thigh, and seemed to involuntarily tighten several times during the scene. My pulse sped up in response. How could just a simple touch on just a few square inches affect me every part of me so much? Especially that part.
It wasn't even skin on skin. And then it was, because he'd turned my head to face him with his hand, and pulled me in. Kissing Marc, sober, while dramatic music played in the background was a whole different ballgame.
It was slow, and sweet. It was the kind of kiss that made me think he felt like it was different, too. It was the kind of kiss that told me tonight was the night.
Fucking finally.
Eleven
We made out for what felt like years, just there on the couch. I forgot all about the movie, and focused purely on the sensations of his hand stroking my cheek before moving back to run through my hair. My scalp tingled at his touch, sending shivers down the back of my neck and all the way to the base of my spine. It fell somewhere on the scale between sensual and comforting. The feeling of his soft lips on mine tipped that scale straight into the sexy zone.
I could taste the wine in his mouth, and damned if I didn't believe it was the most delicious cabernet I'd ever had. Who needed taste descriptors when you had the gentle pressure of his tongue?
I nipped his bottom lip and he most definitely had his scale tipped too. And then both of us were tipping, as his chest pressed against mine, his other hand snaking around my back, and then I was beneath him.
I hoped it wasn't too weird for my other man the sofa.
But there was no time to dwell on that thought, because did I mention his chest was pressed against me? His rock-hard, gorgeous chest. Only a thin layer of Adventure Time patterned cotton separated it from me. That was not cool, so I wriggled a little to let my shirt ride up. Then his stomach was flat on mine, burning up hot.
Granted, my experience was limited, but I was absolutely certain that Marc was the world's best kisser. One could even call it his superpower. He kept mixing it up, varying the pattern and pressure. Every time I thought I knew what he was going to do next, he'd surprise me. It was, I was learning, Marc's little secret. Under that boring, beige exterior lurked a very colorful person. He might not even know that about himself, I thought.
Then he nipped my lip and I understood why he'd reacted that way to me. I pressed into him, my pelvis rocking of its own accord. He rocked back, and I could feel that it was only a few layers of cotton separating us there, too. It was, as the kids say, on like Donkey Kong.
Somehow in the midst of all that kissing, it must have occurred to him how much better it would feel if it wasn't just our stomachs touching. He pulled back and I moaned in disappointment, but he was just pulling my shirt over my head. Never have I been more happy not to have been wearing a bra. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen my boobs before. But the look on his face when tossed my top aside was like-well, it was like those undiscovered archives in France had been hiding under my shirt the whole time.
What on earth is a bigger turn on than seeing a man brought to his knees at the sight of your B cups? Watching the way he devours them, that's what. It was my turn to run my fingers through his hair as he applied all the same kissing skills to my nipples, one at a time.
I ran one of hands down to his back, curling my fingertips in just a little. When he nipped me that time, I almost went through the roof. It took a second before I was able to unclench my fingers. On his back, I'd drawn five bright red lines with my nails.
Good. I liked seeing my artwork on his body.
"Holy cats, Marc," I murmured. His soft chuckle sent another layer of sensation straight into my core.
"You like that?" he asked.
"Um, yes." So dirty talking wasn't my strong suit. If he kept sucking just like that, I wouldn't be able to talk at all for much longer. I didn't recognize the noises coming out of my throat. With every pull of his mouth, I spiraled upwards, and when he bit gently for the last time-sweet baby Kal-el in a Kansan field. I came. And I came hard.
I had literally no idea that was even possible.
"Did you just … " he asked.
"Yeah." Was that weird? I barely ever even climaxed from sex with the last guy. It was weird.
"That's so fucking hot," and then he moved up to cover my mouth with his again and I could feel just exactly how hot he thought it was. Oh.
My turn.
I rolled him over and scooted down, pulling his sweats along with me. His cock popped out, just as thick and long as I'd remembered. There was a glistening drop at the very tip, and I used my thumb to spread it as the rest of my hand engulfed him. The groan he gave made my inner walls clench again.