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When my fingers curled into her long, straight, dark hair, my mind made sure to point out that they weren’t blond and short.When my eyes devoured hers, hers remained silent, without telling me a single truth, when my hands were filled with her breasts, they seemed to have the wrong size, the texture, and feel under my touch, and when my mouth took hers, I didn’t need any help to make sure that wasn’t the taste I wanted, that I needed to feel.
But I insisted.I insisted because I needed to get Antonella out of my head.No woman has ever run away from me before, but apparently this is the night of the first times, because I have never went limp before, and definitely never had a smell, a touch, or a desire so ingrained under my skin as to judge any others as wrong.
“Should I go see a doctor?” Only if it’s for your head, because this woman is fucking up your wits, not your dick!My own conscience answers.
The glass of water in front of me seems to laugh in my face, so I want to smash it against the wall.I thought leaving my room would make me stop walking back and forth, but I was wrong, now I’m just doing it in the kitchen.Fuck, Antonella! Fuck!
I reproach myself, for the thousandth time, in the last hours.I can’t believe myself.I came so absurdly close, so unbelievably...I still feel the taste of Marcos in my mouth, his smell on my skin, and if I close my eyes, I still have the sensation of his fingers strolling through my body, of his hands grabbing my butt, my thighs, of his mouth kissing me.
I could blame him, I would, actually.But I’m just as responsible for what almost happened as he was, because it started long before we got out of the elevator, and I allowed it.I allowed him to touch me constantly, to keep me wrapped in his arms all night, I allowed him to smell and kiss my neck over and over again, and worse, I allowed my thoughts to take it to other stages.With every touch of his fingers on my shoulders, I imagined him coming down my dress.With every kiss he left on my neck, I imagined his tongue caressing the skin there.With every soft kiss he left on my lips, I craved the sensation of assaulting his mouth with my tongue.There wasn’t a way in hell for this to end well.And it’s not over. I almost fucked up, literally and figuratively.
After taking off my dress and makeup, and pathetically refusing to take a shower, because I didn’t want to wash the smell, taste or touch of Marcos off my skin, not yet, I didn’t even try to lie down in bed, because I knew there was no way I could sleep.Not after I’ve been touched, licked and sucked, not horny as I am, not when I’m gathering everything in me so as not to knock on Marcos’ bedroom door and say that just once, just today, we should finish what we started.
But I cannot.I simply can’t do such a thing, and so I spend my energy pacing around.I think about calling Grazi, but I would probably stop her from doing exactly what I’d like to be doing right now, I’ve seen her leave the party accompanied, it’s good that at least one of us actually has sex tonight.
Goddamn it, what a royal fuck up! How am I supposed to look at Marcos now?How am I supposed to ignore the maddening urge to touch him now that I know exactly what it feels like to have him under my fingers?How am I supposed to not salivate through the mouth now that I know exactly what he tastes like?How should I deprive myself of the fantastic feeling it was to have his mouth, your tongue, his hands on me.
God, I’m so terribly screwed! That event was a backfire, and I should have been smart enough to know it!To know that teasing Marcos was a double-edged sword and that it would tear me in exactly the same proportion as it did him.I sit on one of the kitchen island stools, resting my elbows on the countertop and lowering my head.And as if answering the thousands of questions that populate my thoughts, the elevator rings, making me frown.
I turn my head in the direction of the entrance hall and what I see forms words in my head like in a Scrabble match.
“Fuck, I’m so stupid…” I should have knocked on Marcos’ door, I would have bumped into him and it would have saved me a lot of effort and self-pity because he wasn’t home.No...Marcos leaves the elevator with his clothes completely misaligned, his hair messed up, and as he approaches, I smell the sweet smell embedded in his skin. He fucked someone.
“Antonella…” is all he says as he walks past me like nothing unusual is happening here.As if this was a commonplace and completely expected scene.I can’t stop myself, and a sound of derision leaves my throat as he’s about to reach the stairs.It makes him turn around and dignify me at least a glance.
“Is there a problem?” he asks, still distant.
“No...” I shake my head and pout my lower lip in a grimace, his eyes narrow, and he threatens to take a step towards me. “No problem at all...”
“When you lie, Antonella, you should either close your eyes or learn to keep them quiet. Because your mouth says one thing, but your eyes yell another!” he hisses, looking angry, and I need to control myself a lot so as not to tell him that he seems too grumpy for someone who just fucked.Instead, I snap my tongue and look away.
“And what is it that they’re talking so loudly as to bother your eardrums, Marcos?”
“That you are disappointed...” spits the words, sarcasm runs through them, and I look at him for a few seconds before answering him.
Am I? I shouldn’t be... Marcos never cheated on me, never lied to me, never made me promises.He’s a jerk, and I knew it all along.He looking for someone who was willing to do what I wasn’t should not surprise me...Then why does he sound so annoyingly right?
Because you were beginning to forget, Antonella...And I curse myself for it.
“I’m not, Marcos. I am grateful.Thank you. Thanks a lot.”
“And what exactly are you grateful for, dear fiancé?” he asks, and I move my head up and down.If I had any doubt of my next words, they would die with the tone used by him.
“For reminding me of who you are, Marcos.I was beginning to forget...”
His throat scratches, and his face is seized with an unattractive smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Glad I can help,” he says, turning and walking back toward the second floor. “We’ll leave at nine.Be ready!” he demands, and I want to tell him to go fuck himself. But I don’t. After all, that’s what he hired me for, right?To look beautiful and nice, not to rub myself on him or let my breasts get sucked off by his mouth.I take a deep breath and close my eyes briefly before answering.
“We will be.”
?
“Hi, Marcos,” Isabella says as she goes downstairs and finds him in the kitchen. “Is it true I’m going to meet your mother?” I close my eyes.She’s very excited about it.Isabella never had grandparents, never had anyone but me and Grazi, to tell her the truth, so no matter how many times in the last hour I have told her that Marcos’ parents are not her grandparents, she seems more than willing to ignore me. Damn! I don’t know who she took this after!
I breathe deeply and open my eyes, worried about the answer Marcos will give her, and I swear to God that if this bastard dares to treat my daughter with one less drop of the affection she deserves, I will not answer for myself.But to my surprise, as I look for him with my gaze, I find him smiling and crouching before her.
“Yes, it’s true. My father too! And you know what they have, Isabella?” he asks, seeming willing to share a huge secret with my daughter.I grudgingly breathe a sigh of relief.In fact, Marcos has been less and less reticent about Isabella.After he dined with us, he did not hide in the room for the next few days.
