Chapter 22
22
MALLORY
NEW YEAR'S EVE
I debate with myself for a long time whether to wear makeup or not. On one hand, it'll be dark, he won't see much anyway, but on the other hand, I don't want to pretend with him. Not that I think a port-wine stain is a reason not to love someone—at least, I hope not—but I want to show him me, just as I am.
The imperfect, sometimes chaotic, mostly lovable, not always quite grown-up Mallory who has learned to be happy. And who hopes that Brady will be the cherry on top of the whipped cream.
So I skip the foundation, only applying makeup to my eyes and lips. Okay, a little concealer too, to hide the circles under my eyes. But nothing more.
When I look in the mirror, I still feel quite cute . I'm a little treat too, just like Gran. So a cherry fits quite well.
The Cardoza Park is in Milpitas. I don't even know why I suggested it, but I read that you can see the fireworks really well from here. So I pack a blanket for us to lie on the grass. The winter in California, even in the northern part, is quite mild, which is why it's still fifty-five degrees. Sure, we'll need jackets, but we won't get frostbite.
My heart is beating excitedly.
Soon, soon I'll see him. If he comes.
What if he didn't want to wait?
What if he forgot about me?
What will I do then?
Move on , says my Gran's voice. Then I'll just move on. Then I'll find another man who's worth it. Because I'm worth it. I know that now.
I get out of the car with the blanket, shivering a little.
I turn around.
And there he is.
Tall, sexy, and with the most outrageously hot grin of all time on his lips. I sigh softly because I'm so glad he's here.
He comes toward me, slowly at first, then faster. And me? I run to him, throw myself into his arms. He catches me, laughing.
"Damn, I've missed you so much, mo stóirín ." He holds me tight while I wrap my legs around him.
"Now finally tell me what that really means," I demand while breathing in his scent.
He laughs. "It means my little treasure ."
"Really? Not excuse me or hello or good night?"
His laugh is exuberant and happy and perfect. "No, it actually means my little treasure ."
"Okay, that makes more sense. No other meanings?"
"Just the one."
"You're a goofball."
"I know. But does the fact that you're clinging to me with arms and legs like you'd drown otherwise mean that I'm your goofball?"
"If you want me."
I lift my face, looking at him.
"If I want you? Fuck, yes."
And then his lips are on mine, and I wonder how I could have gone so endlessly long without his kisses. They're breathing new life into me right now.
But after just a few minutes, I pull away, letting myself stand on my own feet. "Come on, we have to go, or we'll miss everything."
Brady takes my hand while I grab the blanket that I simply dropped on the ground.
"Did you know I would come?" he asks.
"I was uncertain," I admit as we walk hand in hand across the lawn.
"Me too. But I'm so glad you came."
I smile at him. "Me too. Where's Kira today, by the way?"
"She's celebrating with her cousins or grand-cousins. I always get it mixed up. Anyway, with Orla's daughters. Aoife had the idea that they should have a party without adults."
"Aren't they too young for that?"
"Absolutely, which is why it only means that the three of them get to celebrate in Aoife's room while Orla is downstairs in the living room." He laughs. "Kids come up with the craziest things."
"How was your first Christmas?"
"Exciting and sad. She really missed her mom. So we went to the family gathering much later because I was comforting her. But then it was okay. Probably helped that there were a thousand gifts."
"It can't be easy for her." I smile at him. "By the way, I was happy about your message for Christmas."
"I was happy about yours too." He tugs at my hand, making me stop. Then he gently strokes my temple with his thumb, over my birthmark. "You're beautiful."
"Thank you," I say and, of course, blush.
"Thank you for letting me see all of you."
I can't think of anything to say to that, so I start moving again. "You don't think it's disgusting?"
"No."
One word, clear and understandable. No room for interpretation. Not even for me.
I beam. He leans toward me as we walk, whispering into my ear: "Spectacular."
Maybe I beam even more after that moment. Could be. I won't deny it.
At a suitable spot, I spread out the blanket. We lie down, and I cuddle into his arm. Brady presses a kiss onto my birthmark, and warmth spreads through me. So much warmth.
When the fireworks begin, they're only the second-best thing. Better is the fireworks of feelings ignited within me because he's here and thinks I'm beautiful and wants me. Nothing else matters to me at all.
"Tell me we can start the new year together," he says after a while, as the colorful display in the sky begins to fade.
"If you can tell me the same."
"I can." Brady turns on his side so we're facing each other. "I should have made room for you from the beginning."
I place my finger on his lips. "No. It was exactly right this way."
"But..."
I shake my head. "If we had decided to try being together a few months ago, it wouldn't have been good for me. I don't mean that you wouldn't have been good for me, but that I wouldn't have been good for us . I was unhappy and didn't even realize it. Loneliness had a firm grip on me, and I covered it up by throwing myself into a job that didn't satisfy me either. I would have thrown myself into a relationship—or whatever we want to call it—with you too, but that wouldn't have made me happy either. Because other people can't fundamentally make us happy. They can make us happi er , but if we're dissatisfied when we're alone, we'll be dissatisfied together too. If we're unhappy with our bodies, we'll still be unhappy even if we were lighter or heavier or more wrinkled or whatever. I had to learn that. And I wouldn't have done that with you. I'm sorry."
Brady strokes my face. "Are you finished now?"
"With what?" I ask, confused.
"With being happy."
I smile. "Is anyone ever finished with that?"
"Well, you need to be, so you can dive into the happi er -phase with me now."
"Ah, that's what you mean."
"That's what I mean." He cups my cheek, stroking his thumb under my eye, caressing my face. "Are you finished?"
"I'm finished."
"Good."
And this kiss is everything I've ever wanted. In the glow of the fading fireworks, Brady O'Brien kisses me as if we've known each other forever. Because that's the only way you can kiss when hearts are already intertwined.
* * *
Slowly and carefully, Brady lays me on my mattress before half-draping himself over me.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he murmurs, while his lips kiss every millimeter of my face.
There are many kinds of kisses, and I like them all. These are tender and loving, exploring and discovering. They're full of feeling, full of intimacy, maybe already full of love? You don't kiss like this unless you already have genuine feelings.
I pull off his sweater, let my hands roam over the planes of his back, gently massage his neck before stroking over the short hair on his head.
"I hope you're not disappointed. The gym isn't a priority in my life anymore."
He caresses my cheek while looking into my eyes.
"You're still the hottest man I've ever seen."
"Despite my dad bod ?" he jokes.
I run my hand along his sides. "The other dads are definitely jealous of that one."
He laughs before bracing himself so I can take off his pants. I push them down until he kicks them off.
"Am I too heavy lying on you like this?"
"You can lie on me anytime, though I'd prefer if your cock was inside me too."
He grins. "I think I can arrange that."
Slowly he begins to undress me. Inch by inch, as if he has all the time in the world. Maybe he does. But I don't. I'm burning up. Inch by inch, he kisses and caresses the skin he exposes, which ignites it and me along with it.
"Brady, come on! You don't need to kiss each skin cell individually," I complain when he's still busy with my arms.
"Yes I do. You'll see. And the more you complain, the slower I'll go." He looks up at me, grinning.
And it's a grin that immediately goes to my core. When he smiles at me so cheekily, he could ask me for nuclear launch codes and I'd give them to him without hesitation. Maybe that's why nobody would trust me with those codes.
"You're mean."
"Oh yes, mo stóirín . You have no idea how much."
All my pleading is useless. He kisses each skin cell individually, some even twice. There's a little relief when, after what feels like ten hours, he reaches my breasts, but—of course!—he doesn't spend much more time on my nipples. Because he wants to torture me. He's such a jerk…
Slowly he kisses his way down my stomach, and just when I finally think, yay, he's almost there , he leaves the straight path and devotes himself to my legs. My legs, for God's sake! Those are surely negligible.
When I groan in annoyance, he has the audacity to laugh. I'd be very tempted to chase him out of the house. The only reason I don't is because then no one would kiss my clit. So there's at least potential.
But he's really pushing his luck with me. He can believe that.
Very slowly, he kisses his way back up from my foot.
"You already did that spot," I comment.
"You're a little witch."
And then? Then he starts on the other leg!
"You're so annoying."
"I know."
Two years later, he's finally finished with that too. He looks at me, rubs over a nipple before opening my legs.
"I hope you spend as much time there now as you did with all the unimportant stuff before."
"And if not?"
Grinning, he blows against me, which makes me break out in wild twitches.
"Jerk."
"Is that how you talk to the man who has his head between your legs?"
"If only he were actually there," I grumble.
He turns his head to the side and bites my thigh. Playfully. Much too gently. Just when I'm about to complain, he leans forward, pressing his open lips against my clit. It wouldn't surprise me if I came right here and now. I'm aroused enough, but I won't make it that easy for him, which is why I grit my teeth and try to think of something else.
Fries. Fries? Why am I thinking about fries now?
Oh, what is Brady doing there? Too good.
Watercolors. No idea how I came up with that.
Oh, damn! Is he pushing his tongue into me?
Um, quickly, something else. No thought comes to mind. My head is empty. So empty. Um, there. I need to remember to send those emails at the office the day after tomorrow.
Are those his fingers slowly thrusting into me?
I'm done for.
I try to lie completely still, relaxing all my muscles. Don't tense anything. Because tensed muscles lead to orgasms, and he doesn't deserve those after torturing me for so long.
Oh damn! He's too good.
How long have I held out now? Thirty seconds? Sixty? I don't know, but certainly not longer.
Since nothing else comes to mind, I try to count the seconds.
Five, six, seven...
He rubs his fingers against my wall, against that small rough spot that promises incredible pleasure.
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen...
His lips close around my clit, sucking first lightly, then stronger, while his fingers thrust into me more rapidly.
Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two...
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. I'm about to come. I urgently need to think of something else, but what?
There's nothing. All I can think about is that Brady has his head between my legs, doing incredible things that will end in incredible pleasure for me if I just give in.
Thirty, thirty-one...
Oh God. Damn. Fuck!
I can't take it anymore. Desire takes hold of me, I can't fight it any longer. I arch my back off the mattress, place my hands on his head, press him against me, rub myself against his face.
"Oh fuck," I moan as my whole body tenses. I need a little more and a bit more, just a little bit more, just a tiny bit and some itty-bitty bit more.
And then... and then... and then... I moan and gasp, can't bear it even a little bit longer, not at all. It's too much, so much.
"Fuck," I cry out, before his teeth lightly graze my clit and throw me over the edge.
"Forty-three!" I scream, before I can't think of anything else because pleasure washes over me. Merciless and intense. I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly that I see stars, or maybe I'm simply in another galaxy. I can't swear to anything right now.
Everything inside me tenses, my muscles burn, before I explode again.
After this second orgasm, I collapse back onto the mattress exhausted. Tears in my eyes, a smile on my face, and a body that's trembling so intensely from the exertion that I feel like I've run a marathon.
Tenderly, Brady withdraws his fingers from me, kisses my clit once more, making me twitch, presses his lips to my mound, my stomach, both breasts, the point where my pulse races at my neck, before pulling me into his arms, kissing my forehead and simply holding me.
When the trembling stops, he asks, "Forty-three?"
"Excuse me?"
"When you came, you shouted forty-three ."
"Oh, I said that out loud?"
"Oh yes."
"I was trying to delay my orgasm by thinking about other things, but I couldn't think of anything, so I decided to count."
"So it took me forty-three seconds to make you climax?"
"Maybe a few more. I didn't start counting right from the beginning."
"So maybe about a minute?"
"Could be. How long did it feel to you?"
"I was amazed how quickly you came."
"That was entirely your fault."
"Mine?"
"Yes, yours. You deserve punishment for that." I snuggle close to him.
"What kind of punishment?"
"No blowjob for you."
"Never again?"
I giggle. I'm not proud of it. "You would deserve that, but I meant just for today."
"Okay, I can live with that, though it's certainly a draconian punishment."
"But you deserve it."
"Absolutely. It's outrageous to spoil you. Where would we be if everyone did that?"
"My point exactly."
Laughing, Brady turns me onto my back before crawling to the foot of the bed.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
He already reappears, tears open a condom, rolls it on. He grins at me before grabbing my foot, pulling me toward him, pressing my knees to my chest and entering me.
I'm still so wet from his work that he slides in with a squelching sound.
"Oh God," I mumble.
"Fuck, you're so beautifully wet," is his comment.
If I may just note this, men and women really don't come from the same planet.
But then I forget that I was just embarrassed and surrender to the moment. Brady in me and on me. And not just physically, because he also touches my heart.
In this moment I know that sometimes it doesn't matter how long you've known someone. Some people leave an impression on your heart immediately, even at the very first meeting.
"Can you come again?" he asks after a while.
I shake my head, but instead he brushes over my clit, which makes me arch my back again. He laughs before massaging it with his fingers until I find release once more.
It doesn't take long before he finishes too and then collapses on top of me. I embrace him, stroking his shoulders, his arms, his back. Everything I can reach.
Brady slowly raises his hand, finds mine, intertwines our fingers before kissing them and placing them together on my chest. Right where there's now an impression on my heart.
Brady.