11. Teala #2
Macs holds me against him as we walk out of the café. It’s now starting to get busy, and I’m glad we chose the time we did. “I’m going to take a walk around the Gaslamp, Tay,” my mother explains when we exit to the street. My apartment is only a few blocks over, and she has a key.
Charlotte says she has to go stalk the mailman, but not before waggling her brow, and Macs and I are left staring at each other on a sidewalk filled with people.
“What now?” I ask. A car horn blares, startling me. Macs is unaffected. I wonder if his hearing is messed up from being around gunfire and explosions. I bet he has psychic powers and predicted the horn would go off. Oddly enough, that’s a more rational hypothesis.
He clears his throat and looks over my head. Flicking his gaze back to me, he asks, “It’s the third date?”
I grin. “Do you know what that means?”
Eyes narrowed, he pulls me against his body, cradling the side of my face in his large hand. Macs has fire in his eyes, desire so wild and feral it causes me to lose my breath .
“Where?”
“Not the sidewalk, please,” I reply, widening my eyes. I have to say it. I can’t read him right now, and if he really wanted to take me on the sidewalk, I’m not sure I could stop him.
After kissing me on the lips long and hard, he leans to my ear. “I need you. I’m desperate for you.”
I want him too. “My apartment? I mean, I can’t promise my mom and Charlotte won’t meander in at some point, but we can be quick.” I hike my thumb behind my shoulder. “I feel like I’m propositioning you right now.”
He shakes his head. “I want you for longer than that. It’s third base. I need to take my time.” He looks up at the tall buildings surrounding us, his gaze feverish. “A hotel?”
I step out of his arms. “A hotel? Seriously? I’m not a prostitute, Macs. I was just making a joke about propositioning. Ha. Ha. You know?”
He can’t be serious with a hotel.
“I never said you were. Normal people go to hotels, too. You don’t have to be a lady of the night to frequent the fine establishments.”
I shake my head. “I’d rather be quick at my house. Or…we could go to your house?”
Macs looks at me in a way he hasn’t done before.
You’d think I’d suggested a visit to a proctologist. He’s met my mother.
I assumed we were past this. I understand his need to keep his private life private, but this is a normal occurrence in a real relationship.
Why can’t we have it in our fake relationship ?
“I brought you into my home,” I add on.
He shakes his head. “That’s different. You bring all of your…men there.”
I scoff, pulling out of his arms. “I have to go, Macs. Call me later?”
He grabs my bicep, his grip loose. “No, no, no. Are you sure we can’t go to a hotel? I know there’s one several blocks over. I can drive us.”
Do I give in? I want his body, but I want his respect more.
“Call me,” I repeat. My voice wavers, but he’s too wound up to realize I’m on the fence.
I’m seconds away from being his call girl.
He’s a complete one-eighty compared to how he was in front of my mom and Charlotte.
“Yeah?” I ask, prompting him to make up his mind or just freaking agree to call me later so we can get on with our lives.
He’s still staring at me, like I’m a freak on display. I have nothing to be self-conscious about, and I still find myself running my hand through my hair and smoothing my lips together, back and forth.
“Fine,” he growls. “I’ll drive.”
“Fine, what? You’ll call me?” I smile at him.
His scowl doesn’t budge. His eyes narrow even further through his irritation. Macs bites his bottom lip. “We can go to my house. My living room,” he explains. “Not my bedroom.”
I jump up once and clap my hands together. “I’m so excited!”
He grunts and furrows his brow. Stepping back into his space, I lean up on my toes and put my lips against his.
I’ve wanted to kiss him since he sucked his full pink lip into his mouth.
His lips move against mine, and he takes me against his solid body immediately.
His hard length presses against my stomach, and the anticipation is almost too much.
“No sex,” I say. It’s more of a question, even though I know we’ve played by the rules this far and he won’t mess it up now.
Looking around, he makes sure no one is looking before he readjusts his bulge, then he takes my hand and leads me to his car.
I text my mom and let her know that Macs and I are grabbing some dessert and I’ll see her at the apartment later.
Charlotte texts me thirty seconds later.
She’s obviously still with my mom. Third date, Tay.
You know what that means? She follows up with a smiley face.
I should be a real bitch and ask her to explain, in detail, what it is I’m allowed to do.
Instead, I text back, Everything but sex?
Macs is busy driving. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road.
He’s zoned into it like I’m not even sitting next to him.
I watch him while he’s busy with traffic.
I try to remember the last time I was with a man as beautiful as Macs.
It’s been a while. I’d have to break it down by sections.
A body as perfect as Macs’s? That one is easy.
Moose. A face as attractive? I’m not sure I’ve ever been with a man with a face quite like Macs’s, but maybe one other.
He was a bronzed professional surfer. He had blue eyes and the most defined, sculpted chin I’d ever seen.
He was an awful lay. He called me “dude” after he came on my bedsheets.
Now that I’m thinking about it, that makes him sort of awful.
I decide he shouldn’t make any of my best lists for that reason alone, his Adonis chin be damned.
Everything goes. NO penetration by penis. Because you’re so prolific, I’ll add, no penetration by penis in ANY holes. Charlotte’s text is more graphic than I expected.
Don’t call it that. It’s a cock. I reply to her message right away, making a noise of disgust. Any holes would imply he can’t put his cock in my mouth hole. Allowed, right? I smirk.
“What are you groaning about over there?” Macs asks.
I jump in my seat a little bit. I looked away for four seconds, and he’s already tuned into me.
“Penis. It’s such a horrible word,” I tell him.
He laughs, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s frustrated.
“When is the last time you’ve had sex, Macs?” I ask, letting my curiosity get the better of me.
He swallows and then works his jaw.
“It’s been a while?” I ask. This realization makes me giddy even though I shouldn’t be. I don’t want to be excited he hasn’t banged any other chicks recently, but I already know I will be.
Charlotte texts back that blow jobs are permitted, even though she’s sure my mouth is on it right now.
He releases a drawn-out sigh. “Before you,” he whispers.
“You’re such a liar,” I clap back.
“I don’t lie about sex, Teala. I committed to this.”
My heart skips a beat. I let my mind replace the word this with you .
“It’s the longest I’ve gone without sex since age sixteen.”
Silence fills the car as I weigh my response. “I get the commitment to holding up our charade, but why not have sex on the side?”
We’re on a long stretch of road without any other cars around, so he glances over at me.
“That would be too easy. I thought you knew me at least a little bit by this point. Challenges are sort of my thing. I committed to our pseudo-relationship, and maybe part of me was curious about how it would be if it were real. Not that it is real,” he explains.
“Make no mistake of that.” His voice doesn’t sound so sure.
“Of course it’s not. I mean, you did just have lunch with my mom and give me an orgasm by dry humping me against my bedroom window. What’s real about that?” I retort. I watch his face. The corner of his lip quirks. It feels real. He knows it. I know it.
“I need a distraction for the next five minutes,” he says. “That’s how long until we get to my house. I might explode,” he says, wincing as he readjusts his hard-on.
I giggle. “Do you trust me?” I bite my lip.
Macs furrows his brow as I lick my lips and circle my mouth with my pointer finger.
His eyes pop open wide. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, the question should be, do I trust myself?
” He rubs his hands on the leather steering wheel up and down.
“Go. Do it,” he says—the quickest decision that ever came to fruition.
He leans his seat back using the buttons on the side panel of his door .
I unfasten my seat belt and bend over to start working on his button and zipper.
His shaft is pressing against his jeans uncomfortably.
I pull it through the fly of his boxer briefs.
It’s just as large as it feels through his pants.
It’s silky, with veins and a robust head.
I do have a good comparison, so when I say his dick is beautiful, it is.
Wrapping my hand around his girth, I watch his face.
It’s a mask of determination and lust. His fists flex around the steering wheel, causing a cracking sound.
“Suck my dick,” he says. “Suck my fucking dick,” he repeats. Everything below my belly button turns to mush.
Typically I’d object to his order, but I’m so turned on.
He’s waiting for me. I’m the only one. Right now, at least. Even if it’s just for now, he is a monster of desire, and I can’t wait to see exactly what he can do with every part of his body.
I lick the tip, swirling my tongue in small circles.
At first contact, Macs groans, a guttural noise piercing the air in the cab of the car.
My core clenches in response to the primal noise.
I let my mouth work down the shaft a bit before I start pumping my hand at the same time. I pull away to look at him while I keep working my hand up and down. The corner of the center console digs into my stomach, and I readjust my positioning.