“Oh, wow, that’s hot.”
Tell me about it.
I texted Mae back those exact words to which she replied:
Thanks.
Then:
TTYL, Jules is almost done.
“I can’t believe they got tattoos.”
“Especially Mae,” I said. “Does Delaney have any?”
“Not before tonight.” Pia closed her book. “But she’s talked about it.”
I couldn’t get that image out of my mind. Even after Pia went to bed. Or after I headed up myself. Or undressed and stepped into the shower.
Don’t do it, Beck.
Mae, sliding behind me at the bar. Her fingers brushing mine as we washed glasses. Her laughing, drinking a margarita. Mae’s sidelong gaze, sitting in the passenger seat of my truck.
The picture of her new ink.
She’d be standing in my bedroom as I approached from behind. Wearing her white, short puffy-sleeve top with red polka dots and buttons all the way down the front, cutoff jean shorts and cowboy boots, and her hair would be in two loose braids. I would unbutton her shirt. Slowly. Methodically. Tension building with every slip of a button through its hole.
I reached for the soap, lathering it in my hands while pushing aside the promise I made to myself to not get off thinking of a woman I could never have.
As I slip the shirt from her shoulders, Mae’s bare neck gives way to her new tattoo, no longer raw but healed, the delicate black line unfolding down her spine. I trace it with my fingertip, relishing the way her body shivers as I arrive at the bottom, not stopping but dipping below the waistline of her shorts. Mae tries to turn around, and I want to see her face. I want to kiss her, feel her breasts press against me for the first time. But not yet.
I pumped my hand, faster and faster, the vision so clear in my mind it could have been real. I could see her, smell her.
Taste her.
I lean down, letting my tongue tease the delicate flesh of her lower back, Mae’s bold new ink a guidepost for my exploration. Moving upward, inch by inch, her soft moans encourage me to move ever so slowly even though I want to pick Mae up and toss her onto the bed. My hands hold her waist steady, fingers gripping soft flesh as she calls my name.
I was so damn close. The vision just real enough, if elusive, for the pressure that continued to build to find its natural end. With a few last pumps, the money shot came as quickly as if Mae was standing in the shower with me. Holding myself upright, water raining onto my head and down my back, I relished its aftermath, reluctant for the sensation to end… for the throbbing to ebb and the reality of the situation to sink in.
She wasn’t here.
Wasn’t in my bedroom.
Mae would never be in either place, not like that. She wasn’t the kind of woman you fucked around with, not that I’d risk our friendship by trying. But damn, it had been a long time since I let myself come, thinking of her. Knowing it was a bad idea, like playing the slot machine despite the fact that the odds were stacked against you… but that picture of her… damn.
Mae.
She’d be the death of me.
12
MAE
“It doesn’t hurt, but it’s itchy,” I said, blissfully drowning myself in coffee.
We gathered around a plate of cinnamon buns, apparently a specialty at the cutest bakery on Main Street in Kitchi Falls. After returning to Boots and Brews post-tattoos and showing them off to Mazzie, we closed the place down.
“When you take off the tape later,” Jules said, “just be sure to use the balm to keep it moisturized.”
