by Eva Luxe
I drop my head down, feeling the urge to run out of here and track her down. Climb on top of her car, block the windshield and force her to listen to me. To reason.
“As far as I know, she’s on her way home,” I complain.
“Oh, stop being so dramatic, Paul,” says Darla, pulling her robe around her more. “You don’t need to worry about her. You don’t even need to contemplate being with that fat cow anymore, because I’ve decided I want you back. I want us to be together again.” Her brave mask crumbles, and I actually see tears in her eyes. Actual tears! And when I thought she was nothing more than a robot dressed up in a nice pair of tits. “I want you back, baby,” she whimpers. “We were good together. So good together!” She sobs her fake sobs, sucks up her fake snot. “I see that now.”
She comes close to me, looking to grab all of me. I don’t let her, and this only makes her act out more. Cry and fall over, as if I’m the big brute intent on harming her. “I’m so glad I got into that hot tub and sat on your lap. I’m so glad I didn’t listen to you telling me, to get off you. Because otherwise that bitch would have come between us, and we can’t have that. I need you, baby! No one is as good as you.”
I glower down at her the way I would a bug. But even that is too good for her. “You had your chance. You fucked it up, Darla. Just like you fucked up my chance to see Mariah again tonight.”
Darla gives me a smug, gloating look, and I know it doesn’t matter what I say. She intentionally tried to screw up my life and now she’s glad her plan worked. When she sat on my lap, she started telling me about her dad, who had been battling cancer, and how he was sick again. So obvious it felt like the wrong time to tell her to get off my lap, but I still fucking did. I told her I care about her father and would like to go visit him, but that she and I are over for good and she needed to get off my lap and quit hanging on me. She hadn’t, of course, and just then is when Mariah walked in, and got the completely wrong idea.
“Or,” adds Jordan, as if the whole rest of the conversation didn’t happen, and he’s stuck back at the very beginning, “Don’t let one bad thing ruin the rest of a good night.” He stuffs a handful of obnoxiously-strong taco-flavored chips in his mouth. “Mariah was just for a bit of fun, yo. The idea was not to get serious about her.”
“Unless he already has,” murmurs Alex. A pause, then the sound of him holding Darla up on to her feet and showing her the door. It seems my brother actually gets it. Maybe he really is into Mariah’s friend Jane, for real. “It’s time for you to go, Darla. Go be with your boyfriend, or whatever he is.”
I hear him open the door to our suite and shove her out, despite her protests in the form of an overly dramatic wail.
“Oh, Darla,” Alex sighs. “I never did like you. And you might still be able to pull off the helpless kitten in the tree act with Paul, because he once loved you. But he doesn’t any more, and I never did. So, I’m making sure you stay out of both of ours lives from now on. As I said, go be with your boyfriend.”
“He’s just a tourist,” Darla screams, as Alex begins closing the door on her. “We’re not really going out. I just got with him to make you jealous!”
The door slams shut on her a moment later.
The scenario would have made me laugh, had my head not been swirling with fucking regret. I stalk away from all of them, agonized by visions of Mariah. The feel of her soft and supple skin. The unique kiss her pussy gave me, and the way she totally and completely submitted to me. The way she enjoyed being challenged and dominated by me.
Mariah’s the only one for me now. I see that now. I wander to the window, hoping no one hears what I can feel in my voice, or what’s building in my throat. Tears that I’m not supposed to have.
“Hey.” My brother puts a tender hand on my shoulder.
I cough. Suck in some snot and phlegm, pretending I’m coming down with a cold, not a heart or feelings. “What?”
“She’s the one, isn’t she?” he asks.
I don’t answer him immediately. For the first few seconds, I think about pretending differently. Acting as if Mariah doesn’t mean that much to me. That I really don’t care that much about her. That I would be a total idiot to fall for a girl I fucking bought at an auction. But, as I lose myself in my memories of her, I can’t do that beautiful spirit such an injustice.
Besides, it’s not about not committing anymore.
I just want to get out of here. Get Mariah back in my arms and my bed as soon as humanly possible.
“Yeah,” I say, turning to him. My traitorous lips tremble some. Jordan gets up slowly from his perch on the edge of the couch, looking like Jesus has descended.
“Holy shit, yo,” he says. “You’re really fucking serious.”
“Yep. She’s the one.” I grab my clothes and start stuffing them into plastic bags. “And I’m going to get her back, Alex.”
My brother nods, as if he thinks this is a good idea. Even Jordan nods.
I grab up my plastic bags and head for the door. “I’m getting her back if it’s the last thing I do.”
Chapter 19 – Mariah
December 26
“Mariah, honey,” says my mom as I pick at my cold, leftover turkey, congealed stuffing and cranberry sauce, and slimy gravy, “You haven’t touched any of your food.”
I push it away, feeling like I’m going to start crying and not be able to stop if I open my mouth. “Is everything okay? Are you coming down with something?”
Yeah, I think feeling the aches in my lower back, pussy and ass are growing. It’s called being a dumb, clingy virgin who will do anything for money, even if the guy turned out to be a complete jerk!
“I’m fine,” is all I say. “Just not hungry.”
“Are you sure, Pumpkin?” Dad’s gentle, panda-bear eyes threaten to break my wall of aloofness. “How was your ski trip?”
Mom chimes in, nervously pouring herself another glass of wine. “Did you get hurt?”
Yeah, but not in the way you think. And not in a way that you’ll ever know, I think angrily, feeling tears threatening again. Until I force myself to sit straight. Brighten my face into a cocky, unattached look.
“I’m fine, Daddy. Really. The ski trip was fine.”
I stab at some of the green bean casserole, wondering how I ever thought this was appetizing.
“It was fun!” I add, trying to sound bubbly and happy. The way Jane does all the time. “I’m serious. I’m just tired from how much fun I had, okay?”
Mom takes a sip of her dry white wine. “Okay Honey-bear, whatever you say.” She brings the fancy snowman covered wine glass down from her lips and puts it back on the table. “You just seem a little” — Mom gestures helplessly, as if I’ve never been in a bad mood before — “Depressed. Lonely.”
I nod, saying, “I know, Mom.”
Thankfully, before Mom can obsess anymore over my mood there’s a loud, urgent knock at the door.
“I’ll get it!” Quickly, and without bothering to scoot my chair out, I get up and run to the door.
Who I see on the other end of it, however? He makes me wish I hadn’t hurried.
It’s Paul, and the minute I see his flushed, anxious face, I want to shut the door on him.
“Just go away,” I whisper. “Please. Whatever you’re going to say, it doesn’t matter. You paid for me, you had me, and you decided to go with some other woman. And that’s fine. Totally fine. I don’t need to talk to you or see your face ever aga—”
Paul reaches a large, strong, big-cat-paw-like hand in through the opening I’ve carelessly left in the door, and pulls me outside. “I do, Mariah,” he says, not letting me step back over the threshold. “I need to see you today, tomorrow. For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”
I glare at him, the glance saying, “And why should I have you? You already have someone else.” Paul sees this clearly in my eyes and says, “I know what it looked like to you back there. In the hot tub. I know what you’re probably thin
king and feeling, but I need you to listen to me. Give me a moment to explain.” His face wars between being hard and dominant, and soft and guilty. “Don’t make me beg again.”
I step fully out onto the front porch, making sure the door closes behind me. “Okay.” I cross my arms. “I’m listening.”
Paul takes a cleansing breath before speaking. When he does, it’s straight to the point. “That woman in the hot tub? The skinny blonde you saw me with?” I nod, feeling my anger rise again. “Well, I didn’t want her there. I didn’t need her there, and I certainly didn’t invite her to straddle me.”
Well, you certainly didn’t fight too hard to keep her from glomming all over you, either.
“She boxed me in. She cornered me in the hot tub and wouldn’t leave me alone,” replies Paul, as if he can hear the disbelief rolling around in my brain. “I tried to get her off me, but every time I tried, she just held on tighter. She’s my ex and she even made up what had to be some story about her sick dad, just to get me to be nice to her. She wanted me to get back together with her. Wanted me to forget that she cheated and sleep with her tonight, but I told her I wasn’t going to take her back. I told Darla, the woman I was interested in was coming here to meet me. That once she showed up, I never wanted to see her again.” Paul’s lips curl up in a pseudo-smile. “I guess that was a bad idea, since then she went out of her way to cling all over me just in time for you to walk in.”
He sighs, rubbing his hands down his face, before meeting my astonished gaze. “Listen, Mariah. I love you, okay?” He grunts, balling both hands into fists. “I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how or why I can just fall for a woman over the course of a day or two, but I have, Mariah. I love you.”
He comes over, taking both of my hands in his. The gesture is very similar to the one he did when we first met. Except he brings both hands up to kiss them, not just one.
“I want to be with you more than I’ve ever wanted to be with another woman.” Another kiss. “And I want to get to know you more than I’ve known any other woman.” He pauses, licking his lips. “You’re the one for me. Maybe I’m the one for you, too?”
The whole time he’s been talking, I’ve been trying to convince myself to stay mad. Trying to convince myself that he isn’t worth listening to, or worth the trouble, but I can’t do either. The moment he stops talking, I wrap him up and smother him with kisses.
“Oh,” I say, between kisses to his cheeks, nose and mouth, “I love you too. I can’t explain it either, but I’m just gonna go with it. Exactly like I went with the rest of the weekend.” I giggle, hoping to coax him inside. “It paid off, and now I want to show my parents what Santa left for me on our doorstep.”
I pull away from him, but only enough to take him by the hand. “Want to come in?” I have a warm, gooey smile on my face. I can feel it. “Stay for a while?”
“Sure,” he says, happily following me inside.
Once inside but before we reach my parents and the dining room, I whisper the question that’s been on my mind since I saw him standing at my front door. “How did you get here? How did you find this place anyway?”
“Jane gave me your address. Gave it to me out in the hall, when I came to try to explain things to you,” he whispers back.
Oh, that Jane, I think. What a traitor. And after I found the pattern she wanted for her make up kit and everything.
But of course, Jane was right, as always. Of course, she knew what she was doing. I’m going to have to thank her, and listen intently as she tells me what’s really up with her and Paul’s brother.
High heels against linoleum click clack into the space. Mom.
“Mariah, honey, who was at the door?” she calls.
“A friend! I’m bringing him right in to you guys now, so stay put!” I’ve lifted my head up to talk to Mom, and now I swivel it around to focus on Paul. “My parents don’t need to know I just met you this weekend. We can say we met during some other trip and just reunited, if you’re okay with that.” I study him, enjoying the mischievous chuckles I can see bubbling up through him. “Are you okay with it?”
“Sure,” he says, “If you don’t think telling them you met me at a super secret bidder’s club is a good idea.”
I snort with laughter. “Definitely not.”
Paul snickers with me, and together we make our way in for the super spontaneous meeting of my parents.
***
The moment Mom and Dad see me walk into the kitchen/dining room area with a tall good-looking older man, they hurry up and make him sit down. Introduce himself. They even serve him up some turkey dinner, which he doesn’t refuse.
I’m a bit surprised, because they are usually so overprotective. I thought they’d disapprove of his age, or even of the fact that I’m dating anyone. But it must have been so long since I’ve brought a guy home that they’re happy no matter his age.
I sit back down to my dinner as well, my appetite much improved.
“So,” begins my dad, “How did you meet my little pumpkin?”
“We met on the slopes,” says Paul, putting on the perfect aura of strong yet respectful. “Your daughter is a really good skier. She was really great in helping me with…”
“His pizza wedges,” I say, enjoying his “help me out here, will you?” expression.
“My pizza wedges,” repeats Paul, “That’s right.”
He’s wincing, and I’m doing my best not to laugh. I’m implying that Paul didn’t even know how to stop skiing correctly when I met him, and so I had to teach him to wedge his skis together, the total beginners’ way to stop. And he either needs to go with it, or give up the dirty truth about how we met.
“So, to repay her for all the time and effort she put into helping me ski, I asked her out. I hope our Christmas ski trip didn’t get in the way of too many family plans,” he adds, turning on the charm for my mom.
Apparently, there’s no need to turn it on, though. She’s already as, taken with him as I am.
“Oh, that’s quite all right, Paul, Dear,” she says, taking a sultry sip of her wine. “I’m just glad my little honey-bear managed to get out of her shell.” I blush and grumble at her, but that doesn’t stop Mom in the least. “I’m just glad she finally found someone she likes a little more than her studies.”
“Mom!” I yell, completely embarrassed and taken aback. “That wasn’t necessary!”
“Oh, Mariah! I’m just teasing you,” she says. She winks at me. “Anyway, thank you for showing our daughter such a fun time at the ski resort, Paul. She tells us she enjoyed herself.”
“Thoroughly,” says Paul, throwing me a wink and dirty smile. “She got to try a lot of new things, while she was up on the mountain.”
With that, Paul happily stuffs himself with turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, and some of Mom’s homemade dinner rolls. My asshole is left to twitch excitedly with mention of what we did up on the mountain, but I don’t mind. It makes sitting at the dinner table all that much more new and exciting.
I eat and drink to my heart’s content, listening and watching as Paul tells my dad about all the new things they have at the ski resort. My dad used to ski long ago, but it’s been some time since he’s been to Aspen, and they’ve done a lot of renovations since then.
Finally, dinner is finished, plates are cleared, and Mom comes in with a plan. After talking about it with Dad in the kitchen, apparently. “How would you two like to come out for ice cream with us?”
I hold my stomach regretfully. “Oh, that sounds lovely, Mom,” I say, grunting from how full I feel, “But I’m too full. Anymore, and I’m going to need a second stomach to replace this one when it explodes! Plus, it’s very cold outside. Ice cream would just make it worse.”
Paul seconds my assessment.
“Okay.” Mom grab their coats and they put them on before holding hands. They seriously look like newlyweds. “Well, I guess it’ll just be us then, Honey,” she says, looking up at Dad. “W
hat do you say to giving these kids” — Mom gives me a knowing, happy look — “a little alone time, hmm?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah,” says Dad, trying to look like he wasn’t looking down my mom’s blouse. “Sure, whatever works, Honey.”
“Bye, kids,” she says, dragging her husband to the front door and out of it. “Have fun! Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do. We’ll be gone about an hour!”
“Okay,” I shout back, snuggling into Paul’s arms and resting my head on his shoulder. We won’t say here at the table long, I imagine, but I’m fine like this until they leave completely. “Have fun.”
Now the house is completely ours. And it’s completely silent, except for the ticking of the cuckoo clock. I’m really glad I met you, Paul. I’m really glad I took a risk, I think, breathing in the scent of his cologne. I’m really glad I got out of my shell, and for that, I hope we last.
I sigh contentedly, but also nervously. I’ve never been in this serious of a relationship before. And this one has only lasted a few days. What the hell?
Paul leans in, nibbling my neck. “So,” he says. “Where’s your bedroom?” A calculated, heavy pause. “I want to fuck you in the room you slept in growing up. We need to christen it. I need to make it mine, just like I’ve made you mine.”
Blush is all I can do, before I get up and lead him to my room.
Even before I get more than a few steps down the hallway with him, I feel it. My pussy is beginning to drip. It’s as ready for him to take it again as I am. What a great Christmas season this has turned out to be.
Epilogue
Mariah
“We have to be quick about this,” I say, stripping out of my clothes as fast as my fingers and hands will allow. “When they say an hour, it’s really more like 45 minutes!”
I throw off my soaking underwear, feeling slick, gooey juice dripping from my pussy. It’s not even anywhere near his hands, and it’s quivering, at just the thought of him touching it.
