So Wicked

by Melissa Marino

  It was bliss.

  He was playing with my hair, my naked body wrapped around him, when he made a startling proposition. “What would you think if I suggested we blow off Thanksgiving plans at Phoebe’s today?”

  “Why would we do that?” I asked.

  “Because this, what we are doing right now, in this moment, is fucking amazing and I don’t want it to stop,” he explained.

  I giggled. “I agree, but we can’t not do Thanksgiving.”

  “Why the hell not? We’re adults. If we don’t want to fucking shove our faces with turkey and cranberry sauce, we don’t have to.”

  He had a point, but there was one problem.

  “I already made the pies,” I said. “We can’t leave them without the pies.”

  He rolled his eyes. “We can do a drop and run. Of course, one of those pies is staying here, at your house, because I had to be surrounded by the smell of it and not even get a fucking taste.”

  “A drop and run?”

  “Yeah. I’ll drop it on her porch and run.”

  “Isn’t that rude?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “A little, but I don’t really care.”

  “And then what? We come back here and stay in bed all day?”

  His eyebrows lifted in consideration, and I had no doubt his answer would be, “Fuck yes.”

  It wasn’t.

  And it shocked the hell out of me.

  “Okay,” he said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “How about this? We do the drop and run, and then after, we go for drive.”

  My eyebrows raised. “A drive?”

  “Yes, Al. A drive. It’s something you do in a car,” he replied, mocking me. “We are never out in public as a couple, and I don’t know, maybe we take a drive to Santa Barbara or something.”

  I considered it for several reasons, but mostly because he made a very important point. We were never out in public as a couple. In public, we were Alexis and Marshall—business owners. That was it. Where we were a couple was confined to either his home or mine. The chance to be “normal” for one day was enticing.

  Plus, I loved Santa Barbara. When deciding where to move on the central coast, it was between San Luis Obispo and Santa Barbara. SLO won, but it was a close race.

  “What do you think, baby?” he asked with eager eyes. “Road trip?”

  I gave him a kiss on the side of his face, his beard scratching my lips. “Santa Barbara it is, and I know just the place to go.”

  * * *

  We didn’t do the drop and run the way it was intended because I couldn’t. I texted Phoebe and let her know both Marshall and myself weren’t feeling well after we ate some questionable sushi the night before. I told her I was going to drop off the pies, minus one, but she didn’t know that, on her porch, but wanted to be cautious and not stay to visit, in case it wasn’t, in fact, food poisoning. She was disappointed but understood.

  The normal hour-and-a-half drive to Santa Barbara took us twice as long because we didn’t figure in how many people would be on the roads trying to get to their Thanksgiving dinner destinations. I wasn’t sure about Marshall, but I didn’t mind in the least. By the time we reached our destination, I knew I’d picked the perfect spot to get out of the car and stretch our legs.

  Mesa Lane Beach was a lesser-known beach tucked behind a residential area of Santa Barbara that locals frequented. I came across it during my travels and when scouting out properties when I was considering the area. It was practically deserted, only one other car in the small lot, which was unusual for the area.

  “You sure about this?” Marshall asked after we stepped out of the car and stretched our legs in the parking lot. “It’s a little chilly out today.”

  “It’s like sixty-three degrees out. Did you forget that I’m from Chicago? Wind chills of twenty below run through my veins,” I said.

  He nodded. “Point taken. I was only making sure.”

  “Come on,” I said, cocking my head forward. “This way.”

  He followed me across a dirt drive to the top of the stairs that we’d take to get to the beach. I was about to descend, when he grabbed my arm and stopped me.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked.

  “What?”

  He snorted before running his hands through his hair and shaking his head at me. “That’s a lot of fucking steps.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Two hundred and forty-two steps to be exact. Is that a problem?”

  “Yeah, I have a problem.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Why the hell would you want to do that?”

  “Um. Because the view is incredible.”

  “You do realize we’re going to have to walk back up these stairs, too, right?”

  “Do you not want to do it? We don’t have to if you don’t think you have it in you,” I taunted.

  And that was what did it. I had insulted his maleness by questioning his ability to walk up and down stairs.

  “I was surprised, okay?” he snapped. “If I knew we were going hiking or some shit, I would’ve worn better shoes.”

  I glanced down at his worn black Converse and began to giggle. “A beach stroll with some stair climbs isn’t exactly scaling a mountain, Marshall.”

  “Don’t start, Al,” he warned.

  “I’m not starting anything. You are the one being a crybaby about it.”

  “I am not!”

  I threw my hands up in frustration. “You are so…”

  “What?” he asked. “What am I?”

  “Infuriating,” I shouted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were trying to ruin today.”

  “That is completely unfair,” he said.

  I let out a deep sigh, knowing I had to play nice, even if meant him assuming he was right and I was wrong. I moved back over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “I’m sorry, Marshall,” I said sweetly. “You were right. I should’ve explained better. Do you want to stay, or do you want to do something else? Whatever you want.”

  “Jesus!” he said, throwing his hands up in the air and startling me. “One minute you’re insulting me and getting pissy, the next you’re trying to melt me like butter on toast. You’re hot and you’re cold. It’s no and it’s yes with you. I can’t fucking figure you out sometimes, Al.”

  I stifled another round of laughs as I backed away from him. “Are you quoting me Katy Perry?”

  “That right there,” he said, pointing his index finger at me, “was below the belt, Alexis. Katy Perry? Really?”

  There was no winning with this guy sometimes, and it drove me nuts. It also completely turned me on.

  “How about this?” I said. “We take the beach stroll, see what we can find on the way back home in terms of food before I tuck you back into bed, and let you eat that pumpkin pie you’ve been waiting so patiently for while I suck your cock?”

  His eyes snapped to mine and I knew I had him.

  “Lead the way, gorgeous,” he said with a smirk.

  The walk down the steps to the beach was never the problem. Once you reached the bottom, the incredible view took your breath away. Marshall and I lingered on the beach, strolling the edge of the water, holding hands.

  We were us.

  There were frequent stops to kiss and watch the tide come in. A soft breeze did chill the air slightly, but to be outside, breathing in the saltwater smell, reawakened my insides. It seemed like it did for Marshall as well. He seemed calmer, more relaxed, and by the time we made our way back to the stairs, I knew I’d made the right choice.

  There was something I had wanted to ask him for a while, and I wasn’t even sure if this was the right time, but I went with it.

  “When are you going to tell Aaron?” I asked as we were about to start the climb.

  “Soon,” he said. “It’s not an easy thing to tell him.”

  I was relieved in a way that he didn’t ask, “Tell Aaron what?” because it meant we were on the same page. But there was also
a larger part of me that felt that when he did tell him, Marshall might have to make a choice: Aaron or Me.

  “I know it’s not,” I said.

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck. How do I even do that? What the hell do I say?”

  “You’ll know when you’re ready, and I’ll be here when you do. No matter what.”

  I was about to take the first step on the stairs, but he grabbed my hand to pull me back.

  “You will?” he asked. “No matter what?”

  “Yes.”

  His hand lifted, brushing a strand of my hair out of my face from the blowing breeze. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

  “Yes. Are you ready?” I asked, my foot on the first step of 242.

  He grinned. “Born ready, Al.”

  It didn’t intend for it to be a race, but that was what it turned into. We kept in step the entire time, but the closer we got to the top, he began to lag behind. While I was never one to give in, there was something about reaching the top together that called to me. I paused when I was five steps ahead of him, bending at my waist and faking a cramp.

  “You okay?” he asked, breathless, stopping at my side when he reached me.

  “Yeah. Stomach cramp,” I said. “I just needed a quick break. I’m okay now.”

  He nodded, and we took the last twenty steps together, landing on the top as one. We paused to catch our breath before he leaned in and gave me a high five.

  “Well done,” he said. “That was awesome.”

  “Right? I’m glad you thought so.”

  He gave me a quick kiss, lingering against my lips after. “Thank you for taking me here,” he mumbled. “It was perfect.”

  “It’s going to get even better than perfect when I get you home,” I said.

  He slapped my ass. “Get in the car, gorgeous. I need to know what will top perfect.”

  The drive back up the coast wasn’t as congested as the way down, which was good, because I knew we were both anxious to get home. Sexual tension and silent innuendo in terms of my hand on his thigh and a brush of his fingers against my cheek filled the time with anticipation. Everything was closed in terms of restaurants and fast-food options. A gas station stop supplied our Thanksgiving dinner meal. As we drove back to my house, we munched on Corn Nuts, Cheetos, beef jerky, and Combos. We didn’t get the Honey Buns and Hostess Fruit Pies, even though we both wanted to, because we knew the real deal was waiting for us at home.

  We pulled into my driveway, but before he got out, I stopped him. “When we get inside,” I said, “I want you to go upstairs to my bedroom, take off all your clothes, and wait for me there.”

  His eyebrows lifted, and his signature smirk emerged. “I see you are the one in charge tonight, huh?”

  I leaned over and kissed him before swinging the car door open. “I’m always in charge,” I said. “I just let you believe sometimes that you are.”

  With quick steps, we entered the house, and I watched as he took the stairs two at time to get to the bedroom. While he was getting undressed, I went to the kitchen. The remaining pumpkin pie was sitting on top of my counter, and I intended to put it to good use, just as I’d promised him.

  When I entered the bedroom, he was laying naked on top of my comforter, his arm crossed behind his head. “What do you have there?” he asked.

  I walked over to him and handed him the plate with the large slice of pie on it. “I always keep my word, Marshall.”

  He took it from me but hesitated for a moment after. “Fork?”

  I shook my head, as I began to undress myself in front of him. “No.”

  He set the plate down on the nightstand, picking up the pie with his hand. I watched as he was about to bring it to his mouth for a taste, but the vision of me now nude distracted him.

  “Baby,” he whispered. “That’s my beautiful baby.”

  I climbed up to the edge of the bed, kneeling beside him, as I took his cock in my hand and began stroking it. “Take a bite,” I said.

  He obeyed. As I watched him swallow the first bite and take another, I lowered my head and took him entirely in my mouth. I sucked and licked and worked him over as he ate something I had made. It was another level of erotic I’d never known, and something that I wouldn’t have ever imagined to be so sexy.

  He finished his last bite and then gave himself over to me. I swallowed everything he gave to me and his pleasure, knowing I made him so content and fulfilled, was better than any pie I could’ve had in its place.

  I crawled up the rest of the bed, and we got under the covers together where our bodies pressed together as he spooned me.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I said, tracing my fingers across the tattoos on his arms.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “What do they all mean?” I asked. “Your tattoos?”

  “Well,” he said. “The one across my chest with the angel wings and lion is for my mom. I know you don’t know, but she passed away three years ago.”

  My heart sank as I fought to find words. I’d met Mrs. Jones on a few occasions, and she couldn’t have been lovelier. Him and his mom were very close, especially since he was an only child, and I knew his father had died when he was small.

  “Marshall,” I whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. I know how much she meant to you. I wish I—”

  I paused because I didn’t want to be insensitive. I didn’t want to say what I wanted to say, which was, “I wish I would’ve known.” I did wish that, but these were things about life, birth through death, that I knew I’d miss when I left. It was easy to deny any of it happening when you weren’t around to see it.

  He kissed the side of my head, his arms wrapping around me tighter. “I know. Thank you.”

  “Is that when you started getting all the tattoos?”

  He sighed as he rested his chin on top of my head. “Yeah. Losing her happened suddenly, a car accident, and it made me realize what I was doing with my life. My dad died of a massive heart attack suddenly, too. Nothing is permanent. This is our one fucking life, Al. I was wasting it.”

  “Don’t say that,” I said. “You weren’t wasting it. You were a successful trader, living your life fully.”

  “It wasn’t me. I never wanted to be a trader. I didn’t know what I wanted to do until I got into the bar business. I was just doing what I thought I should, what I thought would make my parents happy.”

  I understood this.

  “I didn’t know what it felt like to be content until I started Tipsy. We’re lucky, you know?” I said, my fingers running up and down his arm. “Most people will never know that kind of satisfaction.”

  “Huh,” he said. “I never thought about it like that, but you’re right. So, the saying ‘Even those who are gone are with us as we go on’ is from The Lion King.”

  “The Lion King?” I asked.

  His body stiffened behind me. “Don’t knock my love for that movie, Al.”

  “Since when do you watch Disney movies?”

  “Since…” He paused before answering. “Since Delilah.”

  “Oh. Well, of course because of her.” I paused once again, grabbing the end of my hair to twirl it around my finger. “Did you get to watch movies with her a lot?” I asked.

  “Yes, a lot. She loved all the princess shit, and I’d sit through it sometimes, but mostly she knew that The Lion King was our movie.”

  My heart swelled because while I’d hoped Aaron would have support outside his family, I don’t think I ever thought about Marshall being such a prominent part of that.

  “Ah. Let’s see,” he continued. “I love Superman. Mostly because of my dad, and when he died, it was a part of him I could hold on to. And the dragonflies are a symbol of courage, knowing you can overcome anything.”

  “Wow,” I said. “You haven’t gotten to your back pieces, and I’m already reading your story. Can I ask you one more thing?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “When did your look change? I mean,
no offense, but you’re not the same clean-cut Marshall of years ago.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “The tattoos have been a process over the last few years, and the hair? I just decided in the last year to start growing it out until I cut it before the opening.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I finally found some peace. I fought for years against it, but then Ginger was happening and it was the final piece. So that and I decided to stop giving a fuck, that’s why,” he said.

  He punctuated the ending with a laugh, and because he did that, I knew there was an enormous amount of integrity that went along with it. Pride filled me, because while I was away finding the real me, he was doing the same. I rolled over so I could face him.

  “So you like them?” he asked. “The tattoos?”

  “Very much so.”

  “I thought you didn’t like tattoos,” he said.

  I tilted my head to the side as I considered his statement. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, I remember when Aaron got the start of his you freaked out.”

  I laughed. “I think ‘freaked out’ are strong words. Surprised is a more suitable word choice.”

  “Really? Because Aaron said you flipped your shit, that you were so angry you called him an immature imbecile or something.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think I said that, but back then, anything is possible. I was shocked. I literally came home from work one day, and he was all, ‘Look what I did, babe! Isn’t it cool?’ He didn’t tell me he was doing it. Plus, it was huge.”

  “Huh,” Marshall said. “It’s not like you and I ever talked about it. I always thought you hated it, and that’s why he never finished it until recently.”

  “What do you mean he never finished it until recently?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “I mean just that. It wasn’t until a couple years ago or something he finished it.”

  “Why did he wait so long?”

  “I dunno. I always thought it was because of you, and then he was so wrapped up with Delilah. It wasn’t until—” He trailed off for a moment, pressing his lips together tightly. “Until you know.”