Past Imperfect (2 page)

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Authors: Alison G. Bailey

Tags: #Contemporary

BOOK: Past Imperfect
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“Should I be?” My words sound colder than I mean them to.

“No. I’m not like that.”

I look deep into her eyes, making sure what she’s saying is true. It is. We’ve never discussed being exclusive, I just assume we are. Of course, we’ve never discussed what this is between us. I feel my pant leg rise as her foot travels up and down it. My dick starts to twitch and all thoughts of Sir Douche vanish.

I fumble with my keys, trying to unlock the door to my condo, as I pin Mabry against it. Our tongues take turns darting in and out of each other’s mouths while she’s undoing my belt. I finally get the door open and we stumble into the room, our lips never disconnecting. I close the door by shoving her up against it. My hips grind into her as my hands move to the back of her neck, my fingers tangling in her hair. Her hands move underneath my jacket and push it over my shoulders, tossing it to the side. She undoes my tie and quickly unbuttons my shirt, using the same movement as she did with my jacket. When her hand lightly grazes one of my nipples, a bolt of electricity runs through me and I almost come right then. Next, she works the button and zipper of my pants. Her hand moves inside and she grabs my dick releasing it from my boxers. I feel my knees buckle slightly.

I pull away in order to take a breath. Staring into her eyes I see desire mixed with the sadness that is always prevalent. I almost tell her I love her, but the words seem to stick in my throat. Grabbing the hem of her dress, I slide it up as my hands run over her smooth hips and torso. She lifts her arms allowing me to peel the dress off her completely and then it finds a spot on top of my shirt and jacket. My eyes roam down her body. She’s wearing a black lace push-up bra, a pair of black four-inch stilettos, and that’s it.

Fuck me,
I love this girl.

I plunge my tongue back into its rightful place inside Mabry’s mouth. My hands glide over her ass as her fingers move up and down my dick. The only sounds in the room are the moans coming from us and the occasional thud as I push her against the door.

“Talk to me,” she whispers on my lips. Her tits push against my chest with each heavy breath she takes. Mabry likes dirty talk and it just so happens that I like to talk dirty. It’s a win-win.

I kiss along her jaw until I reach just below her ear. “I’m going to fuck you, baby. You want to know how?” I whisper in a raspy voice.

“Yes,” she moans.

“I’m going to take my tongue and lick down your body, only stopping to suck on your beautiful tits.” I bring my hand up and pinch one of her hard nipples through the lace, causing her back to arch. “I dream about your tits, Mabry,” I continue. “I’m going to lick all the way down to between your legs. Then I’m going to suck you hard just before I fuck you with my tongue.”

“Inside. Now!” she yells out.

I slip off my shoes as she slips her hand into my pocket to grab the condom. Holding the foil packet between her teeth, she slides down the door until she’s squatting in front of me, taking my pants and boxers with her. I place my palms flat on the doorframe to brace myself as I step out of my clothes. Looking down I see Mabry tear the packet, slip the condom out, and on to my dick, all the while looking up at me through her long dark lashes. She seems to enjoy doing this and who am I to deprive her of any joy.

She slowly sucks and licks her way up my abs and over my chest until she reaches my mouth. Our tongues make another once-around in each other’s mouths before my hands shift behind her thighs, lifting her while pressing her against the door at the same time. I can feel the heel of her stilettos pierce my skin as her legs wrap around my waist. The slight jolt of pain turns me on even more than I already am. Her hands find their way into my hair and she holds on tight. Two hard thrusts and I’m buried deep inside her. Everything speeds up and intensifies, our breathing, my thrusts, and her moans. She tightens around me in every way and we come together. We both shiver and cling to each other like our lives depend on it.

Still inside her, I carry her to my bedroom and lay her back on the bed. I place soft kisses across her lips, down her jaw, and to the top of her tits.

“How is it possible?” I mutter as I continue kissing everywhere my lips can reach.

“What are you talking about?” she asks as her fingers run through my hair playing with the chunky style.

Looking up at her I say, “How is it possible that it gets better every time? It was pretty awesome the first time.”

Tugging on my hair, she pulls me up so we are face-to-face. “I’m trying to up my game. I think you just like my choice of undergarments more and more.”

“You do have excellent taste in that department. I like what’s under those garments too, and what comes out of your mouth, and what’s behind those eyes.”

Now is the time to tell Mabry how much I love her. I haven’t looked at, thought about, or wanted to be with another girl since we met.

Clearing my throat, I look deep into her eyes and say, “Mabry, the past few months with you have been fantastic. Spending time with you is my favorite part of the day. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing. All that matters is I can look up and see you by my side.”

“Brad…”

“Mabry, I’ve fallen in…”

“I need to get up,” she interrupts as she shoves on my chest.

“What? Is anything wrong?” I ask, pushing off and out of her.

Sitting up, she moves away from me and off the bed quickly. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she says as she walks across the room, never looking back at me.

I watch as the door closes. I get up and remove the condom, tossing it in the trash can. I grab a pair of pajama pants and slip them on. The door to the bathroom suddenly swings open and Mabry comes rushing out wrapped in a towel.

Scanning the room she asks, “Where are my clothes?”

“Excuse me?” I stand in shock with my hands resting on my hips.

“I need my clothes. I didn’t pay attention to where they ended up.”

“Why do you need your clothes?”

“Because, the authorities don’t look kindly on public nudity.” She gives me a slight smirk that disappears in a nanosecond.

“You’re leaving?” My shock wears off and I’m getting angry.

“I have an early day tomorrow. Besides, you know the rules. No overnighters,” she says as she walks out of the bedroom and down the hallway in search of her clothes.

“What the fuck just happened here?” I follow behind her.

“We had a delicious dinner, an amazing fuck, as usual, and now I have to go,” she throws over her shoulder.

I find her in the living room shimmying into her dress. I can feel my entire body tense up as I stand there with my arms crossed over my chest staring at her. “I want to tell you something.”

She runs her fingers through her hair. “Yeah, well, can’t it wait until morning?”

“It’s not business related.”

She stops the nervous searching for her purse. Looking me in the eye she says, “Don’t get all hearts and flowers on me, Brad. You knew what this was when we started.”

“Yeah, I knew what it was when we started, but somewhere along the way things changed. I love you, Mabry.”

Her blue eyes fill with water, fear, and anger as she steps back. “Fuck you.” Grabbing her purse, she turns on her heels and is out the door.

I keep moving. I don’t think or breathe until I’m safe and secure in my car. I take several slow deep breaths trying to get control of my anxiety before it swallows me up. I still feel on the verge of hyperventilating. Thank god Brad didn’t follow me. I fight to keep the picture out of my head of him standing there looking vulnerable and sad. My throat stings and my eyes burn as I try to hold back my tears. I can’t lose it, not here. I start the car and head home.

Things were going so well with us. Why did he have to ruin it? The main reason I finally agreed to go out with him was because I knew he had a reputation for being a player and he wouldn’t be looking for anything serious or permanent, which is exactly what I wanted and needed. I can’t have anything serious, not with Brad or anyone. He’s supposed to be safe and uncomplicated. What’s he thinking telling me that?

Walking into my condo I’m a bundle of nerves. I was able to calm myself somewhat on the drive home because I had to focus on the road, but now it’s too easy for the thoughts to creep in. I have to do something to get my mind off Brad and what he said to me. Passing through the bedroom I kick my shoes off, toss my purse on the bed, and make my way to the bathroom. I turn the shower on full blast, letting the hot water steam up the place while I undress. I focus on every little movement I make, trying to keep my mind occupied. I can’t let the thoughts in. Once they’re in, they take over, and I can’t control myself.

I step into the shower and immediately flinch when the scalding hot water pelts my skin, but I don’t move away from it. I focus on how the hot beads prick my flesh. It hurts for only a few seconds before my skin gets used to the temperature. I scrub my skin a little more forcefully than usual and do the same with my hair. The roughness helps keep my mind focused. I step out of the shower, dry myself and my hair, and put on a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, before crawling into bed. I decide to watch some TV to help distract. I need to stay focused on physical things to keep from disappearing into my thoughts. I’m reaching for the remote when my phone chirps with a text.

I try to ignore it, pretend I didn’t hear it, but then it chirps again. I know it’s him. I turn the TV on and try to put the text out of my head. I flip through channel after channel, desperately trying to find something to take my mind off the damn text that I know is waiting on my phone. I play this game for at least fifteen minutes before I cave. I grab my phone with a shaky hand and swipe the screen.

Brad: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. Please let me know that you’re home safe.

I stare at the words for a few minutes. Pictures of his sad eyes flood my mind. I toss the phone to the bedside table as if it were on fire. I try to forget the text. I try to forget the words he said. I try to forget his hurt. I try so hard, but I can’t keep the images and feelings away. I have to do something to stop them from consuming me. I run both hands through my still damp hair. I hesitate. I didn’t want to do this, but I know it’s the only thing that will help me right now. I wasn’t prepared for what he said to me tonight. Hesitantly, I scoot down until the back of my head is in line with the edge of the headboard. My body automatically goes into the ritual of preparing itself for the impact—eyes close, fists clench, heels dig in, all muscles tense. I perform three rapid slams to the back of my head. Relief immediately washes over my body, my mind becomes clear, and my feelings numb.

I was standing just outside the kitchen door. Mom and Dad were in the study, arguing. Both were lawyers, so they did it for a living. The only difference was when
they
argued there was a mean and calculating tone with the sole purpose of hurting each another. I don’t remember a time when they didn’t hate each other. I often wondered why they got married. They couldn’t even be in the same room for very long before the sneers and snide remarks started. I’m not sure at what age my older brother, Peyton, and I were when we made a game out of it. We used to bet how long our parents would last in a room before the gloves came off.

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