Chapter 18 Margeaux
MARGEAUX
I give my lips another lick, letting him see the piercing in my tongue. I can tell he’s a fan of all my piercings. His softening dick twitches, approving of my dirty words. “Lick my pussy until I beg for mercy, Doc.”
The way I know this man is different from other guys: I’m bare naked, legs spread, pussy dripping wet on the hotel room carpet.
And his eyes are on mine. I know he’s dying to look at me, taste me, even fuck me.
He’s giving me his undivided attention; his eyes locked with mine.
He wants to stay. He wants to be with me.
He licks those pouty lips of his, dropping to his hands and knees, and finally gives my pussy the attention she deserves. “It would be my pleasure, Beautiful.”
“Ohhhh!” I let my head fall back the moment his tongue flicks against my clit.
Something about the way he calls me ‘Beautiful’ has my insides turning to goo.
I’ve been called sexy and hot. I’ve also been called gross, masculine, and repulsive.
He looks up at me from between my thighs and I believe him.
Not just that he thinks I’m beautiful, but that he’s leaving his girlfriend.
That he will fly out and visit me. That I’m worth something to him.
Before I can feel any more sentimental, he lightly scrapes his teeth over my clit and my body’s electrified with pleasure.
Mister kind-hearted doctor isn’t so innocent after all.
He’s a pussy licking genius, and he’s just getting warmed up.
Maybe I’m just so horny, and I’ve been building up with all this crazy tension between me and Jon, but just that one flick of his tongue on my clit and I’m ready to confess my complete devotion to him.
He scoops his arms under my thighs, letting my legs rest over his shoulders. He parts his beautiful lips and engulfs them around my clit, then proceeds to let out deep, appreciative hums that send vibrations all over my pussy.
“Fuck! Jon!” I dig my fingers into his hair and that only spurs him on more.
He starts swirling his tongue around my clit and adding a little suction to it as well.
“Oh, God! I’m gonna come, Jon! I’m gonna… I’m!”
My orgasm surprises me as I feel the rush of my release. I tense my legs, cinching them around Jon’s head and he mumbles something into my pussy, and I worry that he can’t breathe. Is this dude trying to suffocate himself between my legs?
I tug his head up because I just need to see his face, and make sure he’s not drowning.
He smiles up at me, licking my juices off his lips. Fuck, he’s a sexy mess.
“Permission to continue, Beautiful? You’re not begging for mercy yet, are you?” he teases, giving my clit another quick flick with the tip of his tongue.
“Ohh! Mmmm…Hate to break it to you, Doc. But you may be down there a while. I’m not tapping out,” my voice breathy and full of need.
“Good thing I’m a thirsty boy. I could drink you up all night.”
Before I can give a witty remark, he’s back to working my clit with his skilled tongue and soft lips. To conserve energy, I let my arms relax, and lay flat on the floor, which gives him the chance to lift my hips up more.
I feel his fingers approaching my slit and I’m so desperate for him.
“Yes! Put your fingers inside me, Doc,” I tell him, bucking my hips in excitement.
“Let me see you play with those pierced nipples, Beautiful,” he pants against my lower lips, slowly screwing one finger into my pussy.
I remove my hands from his hair, satisfied with how messy I’ve made it, and take my nipples between my fingers, giving them a rough tug. The combination of his finger slowly massaging my G-spot, his mouth working my clit, and the rough nipple play has me falling over the edge into a second orgasm.
“Motherfuuuuck!!!” I feel myself squirt on to his hand and he hums in appreciation, locking his lips around my clit again to help me ride out the wave of satisfaction he’s giving me.
“You are so fucking stunning.”
I’m not sure how many orgasms Jon gave me.
My pussy is beyond sensitive, and my nipples are a little raw from how much I was playing with them.
Jon’s hair is all over the place, his face is glistening, and his lips are swollen.
I’m pretty sure his tongue is numb, because he’s stopped talking– only humming, groaning, or growling.
The muscles in my legs are more fatigued than after a difficult training session.
He’s completely worn me out. We’re both splayed across the floor of my hotel room.
His head is on my thigh, and I can feel him tracing the lines of my tattoo going down my leg.
It’s soothing and almost lulling me to sleep.
Is he staying here tonight? Do we go to bed together after everything that just happened between us?
We’re not together. He’s still with his girlfriend. He said he’s breaking up with her, but he could just be saying that. We were both so caught up in the moment. I’m leaving town after tomorrow. What are the chances we actually see each other again?
Maybe tonight can just be an amazing night between two people who have no business being together.
I mean, I’m a professional female wrestler, who is the epitome of bad decisions.
Jon’s a doctor—a pediatrician—who saves little kids from terminal illnesses and is the poster child for domesticated bliss.
We couldn’t be more opposite. Then why are we so good together?
“Why poison ivy?” Jon whispers, pulling my attention back to his fingers tracing the tattoo on my leg.
I smile, remembering each session for that tattoo.
“I’d like to hear your theory first,” I say, stretching my arms overhead, so comfortable at this moment.
“I haven’t seen many women with tattoos. And none with tattoos like yours.”
He pauses, and I glance down to see him exploring my ink, maybe choosing his words wisely.
I’ve heard every criticism about my tattoos from my mom.
She’s convinced I’ve ruined my body and destroyed any chance of a man wanting to be with me.
Well, maybe that’s always been the point.
As much as I don’t care what other people think about me, or my body art, I feel an anxious knot forming in my chest. What if Jon thinks they’re stupid?
What if he wishes they were more feminine, or pretty?
“I’ve seen women who have a lot of flower tattoos. They’re pretty.” Here we go. He doesn’t like them. I tense my leg, ready to pull it away from his grip. “Poison ivy gives the impression that you don’t want people to touch you. Or that they’re going to experience harm if they do touch you.”
He’s not wrong. He’s pretty fucking accurate.
“I think there’s more to you, though,” he continues. “I think you see beauty in the non-traditional. I think you see yourself as non-traditional and are proud to have it painted all over your body. I like that you’re not scared to be yourself.”
Fuck. Does the good doctor get me? I relax my leg. In fact, my entire body relaxes.
“You’re pretty smart, Doc.”
“I try.” He smiles up at me, giving me a wink. “Soooo….Did I do a good enough job to get you to come back here for another visit?” he asks, looking like such an adorable dork, waiting to hear if he passed a test.
I bite my lip, wanting to say yes. I mean this guy is probably the best lay I’ve had in a long time, and we haven’t even fucked. He’s nice, caring and responsible. What’s not to like about him?
“You’re still in a committed relationship, Doc. I don’t mind having a night of fun and giving into our urges. But I don’t feel like being a dirty little secret from your future wife.”
I know I sound bitter, and I’m probably ruining this moment by bringing up his double-zero, perky, blonde, girlfriend. But she’s still in the picture.
Jon exhales heavily and crawls up so that he’s lying on his side, facing me.
“I told you I’m leaving her tomorrow. She and I want different things.”
“And you think I’m going to become your girlfriend all of a sudden? Leave my career and just move here to be your…what? We live totally different lives, Jon. We want different things.”
I don’t know why I’m getting all defensive right now, putting my walls up.
But one of us needs to think clearly. There’s no way we can work.
I try to picture us walking around as a couple, and we look ridiculous.
I’d look ridiculous parading next to him.
A well-educated, put together, doctor, with his giant, tattooed girlfriend.
“Margeaux. I like you. I’m just asking for a chance to get to know you. You don’t have to move here. You don’t have to be my girlfriend. You can’t say you don’t feel something for me,” he says. His brown eyes look sad and disappointed.
“I don’t know what I feel for you, Doc.”
“Doc? Fuck, Margeaux. We’re having a serious conversation. Don’t pull away and reduce me to just a nickname.”
“Don’t fucking scold me like I’m a child! You think because you’re a little older and a lot smarter than me that you know what’s best? You think I should just listen to you and do what you say because you gave me an orgasm or two?”
Or ten, let’s be honest.
Jon leaving his perfect girlfriend and giving up his perfect dreams, just to be with me sounds like such a lie. I don’t buy it. It can’t work.
“Margeaux, whoa. No. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m simply asking for a chance,” he says more calmly.
We’re all wrong together. One night of reckless debauchery doesn’t mean we’re destined to be together. There’s no longevity with me and Jon. He’s clearly the type of guy who wants to be in a relationship. And I’m just not the kind of girl that gets a good guy like Jon.
“Don’t confuse a good fuck for deep feelings,” I say flatly, hating myself for every word I just said.
“Is this your game? Ruin something good without giving it a chance because you’re scared to be hurt,” he says as he pulls on his pants and looks for his shirt.
“Whatever. Don’t act like you know me, Doc. Go live your life with your trophy wife, in your million dollar condo.You can look back on tonight and say you did something crazy once in your life. After tomorrow, I’m never coming back to this place.”
I should be getting dressed but fuck that. Let him get one last glimpse of his night with Margeaux Wild. He doesn’t. He gets dressed, and locks eyes with me, giving me one last chance to change my mind.
Jon opens the door and walks out. It’s not until his footsteps are out of earshot that I drop my shoulders and feel my eyes stinging with tears.
“It would never work,” I tell myself out loud.
I take a quick shower and get ready to crash. The phone in my hotel room rings and I double check the clock, confirming that it’s after midnight. Maybe it’s Jon. Maybe he was right about us, and it wouldn’t be the worst thing to just see how things go between us. Right?
“Hello?”
“Miss Wild. Sorry to disturb you so late. A delivery was just left at the front desk for you.”
A delivery?
“Uh. Can you have someone send it up?” I ask.
“Of course, Miss. We’ll run it up right away.”
The newest letter lays open on my nightstand, taunting me.
Tisk. Tisk Tisk.
I’ve always known you were a slut.
You’ve always been special to me.
I know now that you don’t see me the same way.
It’s time that you learn who you belong to.
Margeaux Wild- you’re mine!
I throw all my clothes into my duffle bag and haul ass out of this city.
Unwilling to wait for a flight in the morning, I rent a car and start the long drive back home.
I chug an energy drink so I can drive the entire night without stopping.
I watch the lights and high-rises of Paramount fade into the back of my rearview mirror.