CandyFi: OMG April! You are making me really dislike M&M at the moment!
This is gonna sound weird, but . . . I'm glad. Because you're not supposed to like what they're doing. They said it themselves in the last part: It's wrong.
I really hope Maria comes clean with Max. I sort of feel sorry for him now as it's pretty clear he has turned his life around.
He has, and despite the horrible things he's done in the past, he doesn't deserve to have this done to him.
Sara: bad bad bad naughty naughty naughty. LIES! ALL LIES!!
Great reaction.
Sorry, I am not saraMMlover for nothing, but these two are extremely selfish.
You're right. They're putting their own wants/desires above all else right now, above what's morally and ethically right, even.
Thanks for reading and leaving feedback! It's appreciated!
Part 64
Michael was on a high when he got back to his apartment that night. His mind was so elsewhere that someone could have jumped right out in front of him as he strode down the hallway, and he wouldn’t have even noticed.
He kept hearing her in his head. All her lustful moans, contented sighs. Those sharp little gasps for air when she dug her fingers into his shoulders even more. He grinned as all those sounds reverberated off the walls of his mind. Knowing that he could do that to her, give her so much pleasure . . . it was the greatest feeling in the world.
When he pushed open the door to his apartment, though, the harsh reality came crashing back in, ruining his fantasy world. Sarah was standing there, staring down at the bed that she’d gotten so used to sharing with him, and she didn’t even look up when he stepped in.
“Hey,” he said, surprised to see her there.
It took a few seconds for her to snap herself out of her daze. “Oh, hey,” she said, casting him the quickest of glances before settling her eyes onto that bed again. “I just . . . I just stopped by to meet with Brody,” she explained, “get my name removed from our housing contract.”
Well, that was awfully official, wasn’t it? “Oh,” he said, not sure how to react.
“And I just thought I’d come up here one more time before I turn in my key.” She smiled when Shango pawed at her foot and then bent down to pet him.
“You can stay as long as you want,” he told her, removing his coat so he could hang it up next to the door.
“Actually, I was just leaving,” she said quickly, making a beeline for the door, as if she suddenly couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Maybe she felt okay being reminiscent when he wasn’t around. Maybe when he was there, she wanted to be stronger.
He reached out to grab her arm, stopping her, but then he thought better of it and slowly let go. “So you got a place off-campus?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Livin’ by yourself?”
She lowered her head, scraping at a small stain on the carpet with the toe of her shoe. “Yep.”
Carlsbad wasn’t a bad town by any means, but he still worried about her. “Be careful,” he cautioned, wishing she’d have a roommate.
Raising her head again, she glared at him. “I can take care of myself. Probably a lot better than you can,” she growled. “I mean, have you even
thought about washing the dishes?”
He frowned.
Dishes? What did dishes have to do with this?
“Or cleaning the bathroom? Or just picking up around here at all?” Her voice started to shake, and her agitation increased. “And you—you have no food in the refrigerator, Michael. How are you supposed to cook . . . with no food? What’re you gonna eat?” The tears started to fall, and she shook her head, trying to wipe them away. “God, I’m being stupid,” she muttered.
No, he thought. It wasn’t stupid at all. It broke his heart that she was worried about the simplest of things with him, things that he could do just fine. Things that she’d gotten accustomed to doing for him.
“I just . . . I don’t know why this had to happen,” she murmured, reaching for the door. She slipped past him and slammed it shut on her way out.
He sighed heavily, feeling like a jackass. Like he’d just gone from the highest high to the lowest low in the blink of an eye.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Like an old married couple already, Kyle and Tess sat up together in bed that night. She was diligently reading one of the baby books, and he was supposed to be paying attention, reading along with her. But he was bored. Those books were just repetitive at this point. He felt like he had a pretty good grasp on what was to come.
“So what exactly is our plan for tomorrow?” he asked, hoping to draw her attention away from ]i\What to Expect When You’re Expecting.[/i]
“We’re gonna help Sarah move into her new place,” she replied, flipping the page.
“And how are we gonna do that? I can’t do any heavy lifting. You can’t do any heavy lifting.”
“I . . .” She looked up from her book long enough to contemplate it. “. . . am gonna add decorative touches to the place. I don’t know what you’re gonna do. Stand around and look hot, maybe?”
He chuckled, glad to know that he’d done enough working out to be considered hot again. “I should call Monk and Fly,” he presented, “see if they can help.”
Tess made a face and looked down at the pages again. “Monk’s not gonna be able to lift anything. He’s a string bean.”
“Alright, maybe Steve then,” he reconsidered.
“Yeah, that’s better.” She turned the page once more, but then she finally stopped reading, looked up, and even set the book aside, keeping it open so she didn’t lose the page. “You know what? I like Steve,” she chirped.
“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” Kyle agreed.
“And a good friend,” she added pointedly. “Maybe he could be your best man.”
He groaned, sitting up straighter. “Tess, we’ve been through this. I want it to be Michael.”
“And I don’t. So what do we do?”
So stubborn, he thought, determined not to just give in and agree with her. Not this time. It meant too much to him to just let her have her way. “We don’t even have a wedding date set yet, so maybe we just wait and see if you change your mind,” he suggested.
“Or you.”
“I’m not gonna.”
“Well, neither am I.”
He took a deep breath in order to keep himself calm, knowing that nothing would get accomplished if this turned into an argument. “Tess, it’s my decision,” he pointed out rationally. “You choose your maid-of-honor, I choose the best man. That’s how it works.”
“Except you’ve chosen the
worst man,” she protested dramatically. “That’s what I have a problem with.”
“Are you serious? He used to be one of your closest friends, too.”
“Used to be,” she huffed, picking up her book again. Instead of continuing to read, though, she bookmarked her page and set it aside on the nightstand. “Goodnight, Kyle,” she said sternly, effectively closing the door on that conversation before turning out the light. Closing the door for tonight, at least. He’d bring it up again tomorrow and keep bringing it up until she gave in.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
At this point, the theme song from
Frozen was so overplayed and over-covered that it was annoying to hear
anyone sing it, even a good singer. So hearing dozens of high-pitched little girls singing it at the Pound Elementary music concert on Friday night was downright torturous. The only thing that salvaged it was how cute they all were.
“Am I the only one wondering why they’re singing a
wintery song at the
spring concert?” Maria leaned over to ask Max.
“My brain can’t function enough to wonder,” he mumbled in response. “How much of this do we have to sit through?”
“A lot.” She took a look at her schedule, wishing they hadn’t shown up so early. Dylan’s music teacher had been very clear that all the students were supposed to be there forty-five minutes ahead of time. Why? That was the mystery. It had been forty-five minutes of sitting in uncomfortable, fold-up chairs, crammed in like sardines with other parents and family members who were struggling not to yawn.
“They have another song after this,” she told him, “and then the first, second, and third grade girls sing.
Then we get to the boys. And then everybody sings together at the end.”
Max groaned, looking like he would have rather been anywhere else tonight. “And you think basketball tournaments are boring.”
She laughed, and even though it was a quiet laugh, she still garnered a “Shh!” from the man in front of her, who was recording the current performance on his phone.
Maria tried to focus on the adorable little girls—because really, they
were adorable. She tried as hard as she possibly could, but she just felt her attention diverting elsewhere. Almost like there was something there that had this magnetic pull over her eyes. Or someone.
She looked to the side, and there was Michael, standing up in the back row. He was slinking along behind proud, smiling fathers, not even pretending to be interested in the song that was being sung. His eyes were glued onto hers, and they gleamed with mischief.
Her stomach muscles fluttered as she tried to be unaffected. But it was impossible not to be. She couldn’t just sit there and listen to the
Frozen song when that look in his eyes was anything but frozen. It was molten hot.
Inconspicuously, she glanced out the corner of her eye and tracked his movements through the crowd. He grinned at her and headed out of the commons area, ducking down the closest hallway. And obviously he intended for her to follow him. Sexually, their week together had been amazing. They’d gone back to his place and done it after class today, but they’d had to cut it short because he’d gotten a call to fill in for someone at work. Clearly he was still . . . unsatisfied. And she loved knowing that she could satisfy him.
She double-checked the schedule as “Let It Go” came to an end. Clapping halfheartedly, she figured that she had enough time to slip away and make it back before Dylan’s performance. Just a quickie. A quick fix.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” she told Max, handing him her schedule. “I’ll be back.” She left her purse with him and ducked down as she squeezed out of the row, not wanting to be in the way of anyone’s video. As the little girls started singing their next song—an old-school
Hannah Montana one this time—she managed to squeeze through the crowd of people and slip into the hall.
Have to make this subtle, she thought, traipsing right past the bathroom as though she already knew exactly where she was going. She walked all the way down to the end of the hall and then had to take either a left or a right. On gut instinct alone, she took a left. She slowed her pace, waiting for Michael to pop out of somewhere, or whistle to get her attention and motion her into some secluded room. But she couldn’t find him.
“Michael?” she called quietly, sort of liking the sense of adventure. There was something thrilling about being with him right underneath all these people’s noses.
Suddenly, just when she was about to give up hope on this hallway and backtrack, a hand shot out from the big double doors that led outside, and she gasped in delight as Michael pulled her out of the hall.
They ended up in the back parking lot of the school, which existed only for busses and school vans. They slipped in between two busses, perfectly concealed even though there was no one around, and it didn’t take much convincing for her to get on her knees once she heard him unzip his pants. She took his cock into her mouth and bobbed her head up and down rhythmically, sucking, licking, taking in as much of him as she could. She’d done this enough before to know exactly what he liked, and it helped that he pretty much liked it all.
He leaned back against the bus, his hips unusually still as he allowed her to control the pace of it. Groaning, grunting, he pressed his head back and closed his eyes sometimes, only to then open again and look down at her. He liked watching. He always had.
She moved her hand in time with her mouth, squeezing gently but pumping insistently. When she stopped sucking and traced her tongue around the tip of his penis, that seemed to do him in. A low growl escaped his throat, and he grabbed her head and thrust himself back into her mouth, moving his hips forward and back just a few more times before he came. Hard. It was warm and salty and coated her mouth. Some of it slipped out the sides.
When it seemed like he was done, she pulled back, careful to keep as much of it in as she could. She knew Michael loved it when she swallowed, so she did, letting it slide down the back of her throat while wiping away what little had spilled onto her chin. It was a unique taste, but not a horrible taste by any means. If anything, the sheer eroticism of drinking down Michael’s cum was staggering. Besides, he always lapped up everything her body gave him. Every drop he could get.
Tilting her head to the side flirtatiously, she peered up at him and asked, “Did you enjoy that?”
He laughed dazedly, stroking his cock as it started to go limp. “Yeah.”
Of course you did, she thought. He was a guy. Guys loved getting head.
Getting to her feet, she readjusted her own clothes. Before getting down on her knees, he’d been pretty grabby, probably thinking that they were going to have full-on sex. But it was cold outside, and she was more than happy to treat him to this tonight.
“How long were we out here?” she asked, wondering if time had actually gone as quickly as it felt like it had. Surely that couldn’t have been more than five minutes . . . right?
“I dunno,” he answered, still off on another planet. Clearly the wrong person to ask.
Oh god, she thought, panicking a bit. What if she’d stayed out there too long? What if Dylan was getting ready to sing right now? She tried to leave, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
“Hey . . .”
Despite knowing that she had to get back inside, she let him bring her in close, close enough that his head could dip in for a kiss. She knew he had to be tasting his own semen on her lips, which was probably why he let the kiss linger.
As much as she would have loved to have stayed out there with him, and as tingly as she was feeling at the juncture between her legs, she knew she’d been gone long enough. She had to get back in there so she could watch her son perform.
“I gotta go,” she told him, letting go of his hand.
On the way back through the hallways, she stopped at a drinking fountain and took a big gulp to get rid of the taste in her mouth. She dabbed at the corners of her lips, wiping away and smudged lipstick, and clumsily made her way back through the crowd, apologizing as she tripped over a few people’s feet this time.
“Where was that bathroom?” Max asked when she sat back down again. “Siberia?”
“There was a line,” she lied, looking up at the stage. The boys were singing now, but it was already the older boys. The ones who were scheduled to go
after Dylan’s group. “Oh, no, did I miss it?” she bemoaned.
“Yeah,” Max confirmed.
“Did you film it?” At least seeing it on video would be better than nothing.
“I tried, but my phone stopped halfway through, right before his solo.”
“Solo?” she echoed, mortified. Her son had sung his first ever solo in a music concert, and she’d missed it? “Oh god.”
“He did good, though,” Max told her.
Yeah, she was sure he did. He was her son, after all. Maybe music wasn’t his passion, but he still had a good voice.
“It’s okay,” Max said, reaching over to put his hand on her leg. “I got some of it recorded. And you can see him with the whole group at the end.”
She sighed, supposing that was better than nothing. But still . . . it didn’t make up for missing his performance. He’d been singing, and she’d been out back giving a blow-job. What the hell was wrong with her?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Liz couldn’t seem to express her gratitude enough when Max stopped by her house Saturday morning to pick up Scarlet. “Thanks for watching her today,” she said. “I just really need to get this tax stuff done, and when you own your own business like I do . . . well, it can be time-consuming.”
“No problem.” Max carried his tired little girl towards the door in one arm, bending down to pick up her bag of toys with the other. “I like spending time with her.”
Liz smiled. “Well, she likes spending time with you.”
Good, he thought. Hopefully it would always be that way. Hopefully he would never make any mistakes with her.
Stopping in the doorway, he frowned, mentally debating whether or not to ask Liz something. It’d been weighing on his mind for a few days now, and if there was anyone he could talk to about it, it was her. Liz was probably his best friend. She always listened to anything he had to say.
“Hey, can I ask you somethin’?” he started in.
“Sure.”
He rubbed Scarlet’s back as she moved in his arms a bit, but she didn’t wake up. She just turned her head so that a different cheek was resting against his shoulder. Quietly, he inquired, “Do you know anything about this whole Michael/Sarah break-up?”
Liz looked a bit surprised that
that was his question. “Well . . . I know Sarah’s really heartbroken,” she replied. “I know it was Michael’s decision. Beyond that, I don’t really know much. Why?”
He sighed, embarrassed that he’d already spent so much time thinking about it. “Isabel.”
She tilted her head to the side inquisitively.
“She said some stuff the other day that got me wondering,” he explained.
“Wondering what, exactly?”
“Wondering . . .” He hated even saying it out loud, but Liz was the person he felt most comfortable saying it to. “. . . if Michael still has feelings for Maria.” The mere thought of it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Maybe that’s why he ended things with Sarah, you know?”
“That’s kinda what I thought at first,” Liz admitted.
“At first?” he echoed.
“Yeah, but then I talked to Sarah the other day. She didn’t say one thing about Maria.”
“She didn’t?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Interesting. That sure as hell made him feel better. More reassured. “Well, that’s good I guess.” But still, even though that was pretty compelling, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was the whole story. “Do you think he
does still have a thing for her, though?” Anyone else’s opinion wouldn’t have mattered much, but whatever Liz thought was important to him.
“I think he’ll always have a thing for her, to be honest,” she confessed, “but I don’t know if that
thing is enough to make him break up with his fiancée.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, letting that sink in. Logically . . . that would make sense. Some residual feelings, but nothing earth-shattering. If that was all that Michael felt for Maria, then he could handle that.
But what if it wasn’t? What if he did still feel something and it
was strong enough to break up him and Sarah? Max wasn’t trying to be a pessimist, and he didn’t want to fear the worst, but something in him just refused to be placated.
“I don’t know, maybe you should just talk to her,” Liz suggested.
“To Sarah?” Maybe that would work.
“No, Maria,” she amended. “If she knows anything, she’ll be honest with you, right?”
“Right.” He didn’t want it to seem like
she was the one he was doubting, not when she hadn’t even done anything wrong. “I trust her, obviously,” he put forth. “I’m just not so sure I trust Michael.”
“So talk to Maria,” Liz said again. “Sound good?”
“Yeah.” He smiled, grateful for her advice. “Thanks, Liz.” She always knew exactly what to say to keep him calm. No wonder raising Scarlet with her was so easy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael yawned as he staggered towards the door, clumsily tripping over his own feet on the way there. “Kyle, I told you, we’ll work out later,” he groaned. “I’m sleepin’ in today.” When he opened the door, though, it was definitely not Kyle on the other side.
His mom smiled at him and said, “I’m not here to work out.”
Oh, shit, he thought, figuring she was there to lay into him. They hadn’t spoken once since he’d come back to Carlsbad, so she was probably still pissed at him.
She didn’t
look pissed, though, which made him relax a bit, and even a crack a smile of his own.
Since she was there, sleeping in wasn’t really an option. So he got out of bed and got ready while she made breakfast. They small-talked their way through the morning, and then, closer to lunch time, he took her out on a walk across campus. She kept marveling at how big it was, even though, compared to other campuses, it was downright small. It probably seemed big to her, though, since she’d never gotten to go to college.
She was more than eager to show him all the pictures on her phone, photo after photo of Joe. Joe in the sink, getting a bath. Joe asleep in his crib. Joe drinking from a bottle. Joe, Joe, Joe.
“Jesus Christ, Mom, how many pictures did you take?” Michael asked her, astonished.
“Oh, hundreds,” she acknowledged. “I can’t help myself. He’s a very photogenic baby.”
“Well, at least you finally learned how to use your camera phone.” He handed it back to her when he finally got all the way back to the pictures at the hospital. He’d seen all those before. “Something tells me you didn’t come all this way just to show me pictures of Joe, though.”
She put her phone away in her purse, admitting, “No, of course not.”
Of course. The morning with her had been nice, but there were more serious things to discuss. He spotted an open bench outside the English department building and sat down, scooting over so that she had room to sit down beside him.
“I felt like we needed to talk,” she said. “Face to face. The way we left things was just so . . . unsettled.”
He nodded in agreement, regretting that he hadn’t made the effort to call her and at least check in. Things at home had to be pretty stressful on her right now. Even if Tina and Nicholas were doing a decent job taking care of Joe (which she assured him they were), obviously she had to be helping.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asked her, slightly afraid of the answer.
“I don’t think I was ever really
mad,” she said, reaching over to put her hand on his leg.
“Just disappointed.” Wasn’t that the line parents always used?
“Well . . . yes,” she said. “And I hate to say that. It’s so cliché.”
“It’s alright. I get it.” He’d fully expected it, and that’s why he’d been reluctant to tell her.
She withdrew her hand, letting out a sigh before scooting a little closer and asking, “So how have you been?”
“Fine,” he answered vaguely. “Busy.” Truth was, he’d been more than fine. These past few days with Maria . . . they’d been mind-blowing. And last night at the music concert . . . god, the girl just had a way with him.
“And Sarah?” she prompted.
All it took was one mention of her for Michael to remember how
bad he felt in addition to how good he felt. “Uh, she . . . she moved out,” he told her, “found a place off-campus. Tess and Kyle just helped her move in the other day.”
“And emotionally, is she . . .?” His mom trailed off, but it wasn’t like she had to finish the question for him to know what she was asking.
“She’s pretty torn up,” he admitted. “But she’s Sarah. She’s strong; she’s smart. She’s not gonna let this ruin her whole life.” If there was anything he knew for sure, it was that Sarah Nguyen would emerge from this whole thing just fine. She’d get her degree and find someone a hell of a lot better than him to marry someday. She’d get a happy ending, and he’d be so glad for her. Proud of her.
“I just feel so bad for her,” his mother said.
“I know. And I’m not tryin’ to make it sound like I don’t care. I mean, I feel horrible. I never meant to hurt her.” He hung his head, looking down at his feet, and mumbled, “I still love her; I want the best for her. And the best thing for her is to not be with me.”
“I understand,” she said. “And I even agree. I guess I just . . . well, I just wish you’d ended things with her
before you and Maria . . .” She trailed off, as if she didn’t even want to speak of it.
“Me, too,” he whispered. At this point, it felt like fate that he and Maria had ended up back together, even if it was a secretive together for now. But even if that had been destined to happen all along, he knew he still could have gone about it in a different way. A better one.
“And what about Maria?” his mom asked. “What’s she been up to?”
Screwing me, mostly, he thought. They’d had a hell of a frisky week, and to be quite honest, he had hopes of seeing her later this afternoon, too. But that would require his mom’s visit to be a short one.
“I don’t know. We haven’t really talked since . . .” He trailed off, hating that he had to lie to her. But she couldn’t have any idea about what was really going on behind closed doors. “So I don’t know.”
“Is she still with Max?” she asked, her lips drawn tight.
“Yep.”
His mother sighed warily. “Well, that’s her decision about how to handle things then.”
“You think it’s gonna blow up in her face?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
I wouldn’t be devastated, Michael thought. If something happened that
forced Maria to tell Max, he’d throw a fucking parade. “What if it does?” he asked. “Or what if she changes her mind and just tells him?” That was actually the ideal scenario, that it would happen solely because it was her decision. “What if we get back together? How would you feel about that?”
“Honestly?” His mom stared at him, narrowing her eyes in contemplation. “Apprehensive,” she replied. “Because you’re life’s just been so steady and secure these past few years. I’d hate to see that change.”
“It won’t,” he assured her. Just because Maria complicated his life didn’t mean she ruined it.
“I think it already is.” His mother looked down at her lap sadly, then cleared her throat and looked back at him. “I, um . . . I got an email yesterday from the scholarship office,” she told him.
His stomach clenched.
Great. He’d gotten an email, too, and if he hadn’t been so focused on having sex with Maria, he would have been stressing out about it.
“Seems like they’re monitoring your grades pretty closely right now,” his mom went on. “If they don’t go up before the end of the semester, they’re not gonna renew your scholarships for next year.”
It was a nerve-racking thought, especially since he’d accumulated quite a few scholarships these past few years, all of which had GPA stipulations attached to them. “Yeah, I just gotta work harder,” he said nonchalantly, trying to make it seem like it would be no big deal.
“A lot harder,” she emphasized. “Those scholarships have really helped you out, Michael. I don’t want you to lose them.”
“I know.” Hell, it wasn’t what he wanted, either. “I’ll handle it.”
“You promise?” she asked skeptically. “You promise me you’ll go back home after I leave, crack open the books, and study?”
A couple of months ago, he would have done so willingly. But right now, even with the threat of losing his scholarships, it just didn’t feel like enough motivation. “Yep,” he assured her, nodding. “Yeah, that is . . . exactly what I’m gonna do.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they just weren’t true.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Uh!” Maria moaned loudly, throwing her head back in ecstasy as her orgasm ripped through her. She dug her hands into Michael’s shoulders and tightened her legs around his waist as he pressed up into her a few more times. His chest rubbed against hers, and he soon followed her over the edge.
“Oh . . .” he groaned during his release. “Shit.”
A pleasant warmth spread through her whole body, through every vein and artery, all the way from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her fingers and toes. She felt completely and utterly satiated. It was a
great feeling.
Even though she pretty much loved every single sexual position with Michael, sitting up with him like this was definitely one of her favorites. The proximity alone was mind-blowing. There was something so addictive about being able to feel all the sweat on his body as it slid against hers. The boy had definitely exerted himself.
“That was
so good,” she told him, reveling in it for as long as she could, for as long as her mind would remain ignorant to that clock on the nightstand.
“Yeah,” he agreed, his breathing muffled against her shoulder.
As much as she would have loved to just keep sitting there in the middle of that mattress with him, delighting in the fact that he was still inside her, she knew she couldn’t. When she did force a glance at the clock, it was a harsh reality. “But I have to go,” she whimpered, disappointed that time had flown by so fast.
“What? Why?” he whined, actually tightening his arms around her, as if he wasn’t going to let her go.
“I was supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago,” she pointed out. He’d already distracted her long enough.
“Stay,” he said pleadingly, thread his hand through her hair.
“I can’t.” She would have loved to, but it just wasn’t feasible. “Help me out here,” she said, forcing herself off of his lap. The loss of sensation as his cock, limper now, slid out of her was devastating. “I gotta get dressed,” she said, peering down over the side of her bed. Her jeans were there, but where the hell were the rest of her clothes? She swung herself down over the edge, legs and waist still on the mattress as she looked underneath. “Have you seen my underwear?” she asked, because her shirt and bra had gotten kicked under the bed, but her underwear were still nowhere to be seen.
“No,” he replied. “But I
am seein’ plenty of stuff I like.”
She giggled a little, knowing she must have been giving him quite a view of her backside right now.
“Maria.”
“What?” She lifted her head up, and damn if he didn’t look so unbelievably sexy sitting there naked on the bed, twirling her panties around on his index finger.
“How’d you get that?” she asked, getting back up onto the bed.
“I have my ways.” He smirked, holding the panties just out of her reach when she tried to grab them.
“Give ‘em back,” she said.
“They’re mine now.”
“Um, hello, it’s
my underwear.”
“Exactly.” He grinned. “I’m starting a collection.”
“Oh my god, give it!” She climbed back onto his lap, getting up on her knees, trying to reach them as he held them back and above his head. Finally, he just sent them flying towards the other side of the room with a flick of his wrist. “Michael!” she yelped, whacking his shoulder playfully.
“What? Everyone needs a hobby.”
“And collecting my underwear is
your hobby?”
He shrugged, putting his hands on her waist. “One of them.”
“What’s the other one?”
He leaned forward so that he could murmur his response in her ear. “Sex with you.”
A pleasurable tingle shot up her spine. “
That’s your hobby?”
“No, it’s my favorite thing ever.” He kissed her cheek, then bent his head to kiss the side of her neck and her shoulder.
His mouth felt so good on her body, she couldn’t help but close her eyes and moan contentedly. “Mmm . . .”
“My very favorite,” he promised, lips moving against her skin.
Oh god, she thought, overwhelmed. If he kept kissing her like this and talking to her so flirtatiously, she was never going to get out of there. “Stop it,” she said, pushing his shoulders back slightly. “I have to get dressed.”
“But I want you to stay
undressed,” he protested. “So then I can do this.” He lifted her left breast in the palm of his hand, bending his head so he could press a sucking kiss to it. “And this.” Then he switched to the other one, tracing his tongue around her nipple before giving it a gentle bite. “And this.”
She gasped suddenly when she felt his hand slip between her legs, his middle finger tracing her lower lips. Good God, this guy possessed more sexual ability than the Kamasutra instruction manual itself.
“You’re making it really hard to leave,” she told him, rubbing herself wantonly against his hand.
“Good.” He removed his fingers suddenly, as if that had just been meant to give her a taste. “I want you to stay.”
The way he said it was so innocent-sounding, even though his intentions were clearly the opposite. “You know I can’t,” she said. It broke her heart to not just give in.
“But I want you to.” His expression started to shift from playful and teasing to sad and serious, and his hands settled in around her back rather than roaming all over friskily. “I hate how you always have to leave so soon after we’re done. We never have any time left over to just lay together, hold each other, talk.”
She rubbed his shoulders, noticing the fingernail marks she’d left there. “You hate doing those things.”
“Not with you.”
She sighed longingly.
Oh, Michael . . . He really knew how to pull at her heartstrings here, how to make her feel guilty for leaving even though the only thing to feel guilty about was showing up over there to have sex with him in the first place. “So what you’re saying is, the next time I come over, we shouldn’t have sex?” she teased. “We should just lay around and talk instead?”
He grinned. “No, we should do both.”
Laughing lightly, she thought about how much she would like that. This little interlude right here was almost as enjoyable as the sex itself. Maybe just cuddling up in bed with him would be a euphoria all its own. They could do that for a little while . . . as long as she still found the strength to eventually get up and leave.
“Help me get dressed?” she asked him, knowing she’d already wasted another five minutes.
He looked her right in the eye and shook his head earnestly. “Never.”
She wished his saying that would anger her, frustrate her at least; but it didn’t. In fact, it only made her heart skip a beat.
By the time she got home, it was well after 7:00, nearly half an hour later than she’d told Max she would be home. She knew she was going to have to monitor the time more closely, keep herself on a better schedule. Too many late nights would be suspicious.
As she walked to the door, she got a text from Michael. She stopped to read it, thinking that it would be a romantic one. But rather than that, he’d gone the sexy route this time.
i came so hard for u today
She felt herself blushing, amazed that she of all people could get such a strong physical reaction out of him.
She kept heading towards the door, but when she was up on the porch, she got another text. Turning her back to the door, she stood and read it, mesmerized by the words on the screen.
u turn me on so much
She inhaled shakily, getting turned on herself as she imagined him lying unclothed in the bed they’d just fucked in, one hand holding his phone, the other maybe wrapped around his long, hard . . .
“Hey.”
She spun around as Max opened the door, and with a swipe of her thumb, she deleted both text messages. “Hey,” she said, putting her phone away.
When she stepped inside, he kissed her cheek and said, “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Yeah. Sorry I’m a little late,” she apologized. “I had to wait for the new girl to show up, and when she finally got there, she had no idea what she was doing.”
“Oh, the joys of work.”
“Yeah, really.” She bent down and removed her shoes, setting them by the door.
“Well, Dylan is cleaning his room, believe it or not,” Max informed her, “and I got dinner covered.”
“Really?” Her curiosity was piqued, but she didn’t smell anything. “What’d you make?”
“Oh, I ordered pizza,” he clarified. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Oh, that’s more than okay,” she assured him. “That’s perfect.” Pizza was a no muss, no fuss type of dinner, her favorite kind.
“Should be here in a few minutes,” he said.
“Great.” She went into the living room, setting her purse down on the floor next to the couch, and turned on the TV, yawning. “So how was Scarlet today?” she asked, flipping channels.
“Talkative,” he replied, sauntering in after her. “Half the time I didn’t know what she was sayin’, but she was sayin’ a lot.”
“Cute.” It was hard to believe that Scarlet was now nearly as old as Dylan had been the year they’d left Albuquerque and moved to Roswell to live with her mom. Until they got kicked out, anyway. Until they went to live with . . .
Micho.
“Did Dylan play with her a lot?” she asked, hoping her little boy would be worn out tonight. He always wanted to stay up late on weekends, and she just didn’t have the energy to handle that tonight.
“Yeah, he did,” Max replied, pointing to the screen right as she bypassed some NBA game. She backtracked and set the remote down, knowing she’d have even more of an excuse to go to bed early if he got absorbed in this.
“Can we talk?” he asked suddenly.
She jerked her head towards him, alarmed by the seriousness of his tone. “Sure,” she said, already trying to figure out what was on his mind. “About what?”
Instead of answering, he motioned to the couch and said, “Sit down.”
She did so hesitantly, worriedly. “Is everything okay?”
“I think so,” he said, slowly taking a seat next to her. “I just wanted to ask you about something.”
Trying to remain calm and casual, she urged, “Okay, go ahead.” But inside, she was freaking out.
“It’s . . . about Michael.”
The freak out began to multiply itself. She was sure her eyes got wider, but she tried not to seem nervous, tried to act like there was nothing to hide. “What about him?”
“Uh, well . . .” He licked his lips, waiting a moment before starting in. “This isn’t all that easy to talk about, but . . .” He cringed, looking like he didn’t even
want to ask the question, even when he was in the process of asking it. “Do you think Michael’s still in love with you?”
Oh god, she thought, her heart pounding.
What does he know? “What?” she said, even laughing a little as if the mere thought of it was so ridiculous that it was amusing.
“I’m serious,” he said.
Oh, she could tell that he was serious. That was what worried her most of all. “Why would you even think that?” she asked, trying to understand why this was all just coming out of
nowhere.
“Well, I was talkin’ to Isabel--” he started.
“Isabel?”
“Yeah, stupid I know. But she kept goin’ on and on about how she thinks Michael still has feelings for you, and that’s why he broke up with Sarah. And at first I just ignored her, but then I started thinkin’ about it, and . . . I don’t know. What if she’s right?”
“Max . . .” She felt horrible for lying to him, but the truth would hurt him too much. “No. No, she’s not,” she assured him. “Michael is
not still in love with me. Trust me, I’d know if he was.”
“Because Isabel said she talked to him, and it seemed like . . . like there was still somethin’ there.”
“Well, yeah, a friendship,” she acknowledged.
“Something more than that.”
She sighed heavily, wishing Miss Isabel had just kept her damn mouth shut. “Max, Michael and I aren’t . . .” The words got caught in the back of her throat the first time she tried to say them, so she took a pause and then started in again. “There’s nothing going on.”
“No, I’m not saying there is,” he clarified. “I’m not questioning you here, okay? I trust
you completely.”
Her face didn’t wince, but her heart grimaced.
“I know how committed you are to me and to our family,” he went on. “But clearly Michael wasn’t so committed to Sarah, even after getting engaged to her. So he’s the one I wonder about.”
She nodded solemnly, trying to find that perfect balance between being reassuring and not being
too reassuring that it seemed like she had something to hide. “I understand,” she said. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but I understand.”
“I’m not worried,” he corrected. “Just . . . I don’t know. Curious, I guess.”
Don’t get too curious, she wanted to tell him. If he probed too deeply into this, he’d find a lot of answers he hadn’t been looking for. “So Isabel’s going around telling people Michael broke up with Sarah for me, huh?” she said, trying to turn some of the negative attention back on her instead. “Great. That’ll do wonders for my reputation.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. With everything going on that he
didn’t know . . .
he was actually the one who apologized to
her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, I’m not upset with you, Max; I’m upset with her. Trust me when I tell you she has
no idea what she’s talking about, okay? She just wants to cause problems for us because she hates me.”
“She’s not causing problems, though,” he said. “If you say he doesn’t have feelings for you, then I believe you. One-hundred percent.”
She smiled at him shakily, grateful beyond belief when the doorbell rang and she had a reason to get up. “Pizza’s here,” she said, shooting to her feet. When she turned her back to him and headed to the door, she let her smile dissipate completely, and a horrified expression swept into its place.
TBC . . .
-April