“Funny, you’re not the only one who said that. My sister used to tell me that,” I said.
“She sounds like a wise woman,” he remarked.
“I had a boob job,” I suddenly found myself saying. “A lift.”
Mark blinked; I think he didn’t know what to say.Why had I even said that?
“Kyle thought that—”
Mark held his hand up. “Kyle is a moron and I don’t give a flying fuck what he thought.” And then he reached out and kissed me again. This time, planting a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. “Besides,” he pulled away from the kiss, “maybe I have a thing for stretch marks.”
“Really?” I cringed.
“Maybe I have a thing for imperfections that make a person real, and not fake.”
He kissed me again.
“Maybe I’m not into glossy appearances and performances and putting on a perfect show for everyone else. Maybe I’m into the opposite of all that.” I could hear he was speaking from experience. “Maybe I’ve learned that physical appearances mean nothing. Not that I’m saying you aren’t fucking gorgeous, which you are. But maybe smiling faces on posters and Instagram don’t mean a thing. Maybe that’s all a show and what I want is something real.”
This time I kissed him. Fast and hungry and with so much wanting. He pulled away and smiled at me.
“So, can I take you back to my bedroom?” His smile was naughty and lusty and sexy as hell. In fact, he was just about the sexiest man I’d ever seen in my life. This scruffy version of him. This floppy-haired, stubbly, sometimes dirty-glasses-wearing guy. Not the perfect, polished guy that had hung on my wall as a teen.
I nodded and he pulled away from me and held his hand out. I slipped my fingers through his once more and they felt like they belonged there. I couldn’t explain it, but my fingers really liked it there between his.
And with that, he led me slowly back into his bedroom. Back towards the promise of sex.
CHAPTER 62
This time, everything was different. There was nothing fast and hungry and desperate about it. Instead, it was slow. We stood by the foot of the bed, eyes locked as he took his shirt off slowly and then dropped it back on the floor. He looked at my clothes and then raised a brow to me in question. The question was clear:May I?
I nodded, but reached behind me and pressed the light switch; the room went dark.
I felt Mark pull away from me, I heard a few footsteps, and then the light switched on again. I looked up at the light and then looked back down at Mark.
“I want to see you,” he said softly, voice full of lust.
My heart beat a little faster from the nerves, but I nodded again. I didn’t say anything else after that as he slowly reached down and took my hem in his hands and then, as if he was savoring the moment, he lifted the shirt up over my head and dropped it to the ground. He took a step back and his eyes drifted over me. My immediate reaction was to place my hands across my stomach, like I’d done with Kyle so many times before, or maybe put my shirt back on. But he shook his head at me and I resisted the urge.
“Beautiful,” he said, and I could hear he meant it. The sound of desire was thick in his voice. He reached down and unbuttoned my jeans, and then pulled them, and the Spanx, down. He moved closer to me and kissed me again. First on the mouth, then on the neck, then down my neck. I moaned as the kisses worked their way down my chest, over my bra, stopping momentarily at my nipples. I groaned as he took one in his mouth through the fabric and pulled on it. And then he left my breast and kneeled down and started kissing my stomach. I gasped at the feeling—no one had kissed me there. No one had done that. His hands moved up to my ass and cupped it, and then he pulled me closer to him and, oh my God, he kissed me along my pantyline, and then his kisses moved further down. I held my breath for a moment, wondering if what I thought was about to happen was about to happen and then wondering those things you do in that moment like,Shit, did I need to quickly have a shower? Did I need to wax?My brain started thinking and working and . . .
“God!” I gasped and my brain immediately switched off the second I felt his fingers pull my panties aside and his tongue push its way in and give one slow, long lick.
He eased my legs apart with his hand, and with the other, pulled my panties all the way over—the feel of the elastic tugging against me gave a tiny little sensation of pain which only heightened my pleasure. His mouth was on me now. Slow and soft and every stroke deliberate and smooth. He definitely knew his way around, and he was taking his time. He was in no rush. I spread my legs a little more and looked down. Fuck, this was the hottest thing I’d ever seen before. Him kneeling on the ground with his head between my legs like this. I had to hold onto his head when I felt the feeling build. I had to grip his hair tightly in case I fell over as I shuddered. And when it was over and I was steady on my feet again, he stood up and our eyes met. I couldn’t stop the stupid smile on my face.
“Well, that was . . .” I was breathy and smiley and giddy.
“Yeah, it fucking was,” he said, sounding equally breathy. And then he pushed me back down onto the bed for the second time that night. And this time, I wasn’t going to stop him. In fact, I was going to help him. My hands slipped between us and I tugged at the zipper of his jeans, and then pulled his underwear down, just enough for him to come bursting out. I wrapped a hand around him and he groaned against my mouth and moved his hips to push into my hand even more.
But soon, that wasn’t enough. He reached for a condom by the side of his bed and I had a tiny moment of jealousy that hit me in the stomach, all cold and nauseous, as I wondered who that condom had been bought for. All the many conquests in town. It dawned on me, in that moment, that I better not expect anything out of this. He was clearly a player around town.No expectations, I said to myself.No expectations.But then he stopped. He raised himself up on his elbows and looked down at me. This time, he looked vulnerable. Much like I had a few moments ago in the kitchen.
“I don’t do this often,” he said to me.
“Okay,” I said, not knowing how to respond.
“And when I do, I don’t do it if I think it’s going to be a one-off.”
“Uh . . . okay.” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at here.
