She slid further down the mattress, placing her head back on the pillow as she reached for the arm that Mark had gently lay on her side. She picked the arm up, removing it, ending the levity of the moment.
His eyes opened wider, giving Saturday the opportunity to gaze into them. She breathed deeply.
“I have to go,” she said, rolling away from Mark towards the other side of the bed.
It was time to run again.
She felt the change within herself while she was looking at him. Her mind had started to yield already, sucking her body along with it into the pull of his attraction.
She was giving in.
And if she did, she would be shamelessly spreading her legs wide, begging him to come soothe that familiar ache she felt every time he placed those green eyes on her.
No, no, NO.
Whatever interaction the two of them were going to have (if they were going to have any at all) would need to take place on a clean slate.
The waters were too muddy, the future too unclear for them to just jump back in blindfolded.
Saturday had made that mistake before.
But then he stood up from the bed, the large bulge in his boxer briefs shifting with his movement, catching Saturday’s eye.
Desire slammed between Saturday’s legs like a fist.
It was uncomfortable as hell… and shocking.
God, I’d almost forgotten how much I want him. I always want him.
I’ve never stopped.
She swung her legs over the side of the mattress, knocking her phone down in the process. She tried to rush past him, frantic.
“I’ll get it later,” she tossed flippantly.
He reached for her arm as she blustered toward the door.
“Wait, Saturday… you…”
She fell into him, facing forward: the clumsiness of her stampede and his grab throwing them off-balance and into each other’s arms.
She looked up as he caught her, lingering for the briefest of instants… before reaching her fingers to his nape and planting a wet kiss on his lips.
He let her take hold of his mouth… before pulling back stunned, his green eyes regarding her with silent surprise.
She looked back at him with a probing gaze, her eyes asking the pressing questions that her mouth dare not speak. He answered her with his kiss.
Saturday tightened her hold on him, devouring every bit of his mouth as he initiated their simultaneous long-legged trek to the bed.
He laid her down when they hit the edge, while she dragged him on top of her.
With skilled hands, he slipped her shirt and underwear off immediately, laying his hands where the clothes once hugged.
Her restraint shred to pieces, she pressed her aching breasts to his chest, wanting to feel every inch of him against her. Her body couldn’t get enough.
Touch me, baby. Please. For the love of everything, just feel me.
Mark removed his kiss from her lips, seeking the skin at her neck and chest until he finally latched on to one swollen breast, causing Saturday to gasp.
From there, his hot tongue began to lay a path down her belly, reaching the sparse sandy hair on her mound and nuzzling it gently.
Placing two fingers between her folds, he completely opened her to him, offering open-mouthed kisses on the entire length of her.
His warm tongue dipped inside, his mouth angling to provide the sweetest pressure.
Saturday grabbed his full head of hair, hoping to slow him down, but it was no use. She was already coming hard and fast as he continued to lap her purposefully with his tongue.
She was left spent and panting as she withstood the last of his tongue strokes.
Don’t stop, baby, her mind screamed.
Don’t ever stop.
“So fucking delicious, Saturday, my God,” he whispered as he crawled his way back up her body, shedding his briefs as he climbed higher and higher.
Now skin-to-skin, they explored each other’s bodies, testing and probing as if to ensure that the other was real.
In a way, they were rediscovering each other: each taste a fresh flavor, each touch a new sensation.
They kissed relentlessly, taking their sweet time to just feel.
To savor every breath… every lick… every throb.
Blindly, he reached a hand over to the nightstand, fumbling with the wallet sitting there.
He grabbed the foil wrap from one of its slits. Impatient, Saturday nearly ripped it from his fingers, gnashing at its edge with her teeth.
Mark smirked playfully at Saturday, easing the package out of her hands before she could tear it to shreds.
She laughed shyly at his expression, embarrassed by her own shameless haste.
“Sorry,” she said, lowering her eyes. “It’s just… I tried to lie to myself earlier, but I… I can’t. I’ve been wanting this all night.”
He scoffed at her candor, tipping her face toward his. His eyes were filled with wonder.
“Baby… I’ve been wanting this all my life.”
He slipped the condom from the foil, handing it to her, letting her use both of her hands to smooth it completely down his perfect cock… all the way from his tip to his base.
He was beautiful: every. single. inch. of him.
In those three seconds of pressing her hands on him, she realized that she had never wanted anything the way that she wanted him… needed him.
Inside. Right now.
By the time Mark had started to rub his length against Saturday’s hot slit, it was already ready for him, encouraging him to plunge deep inside of her until she touched the very end of him.
He stilled when he entered, allowing her body to accommodate him, his hardness pulsating rigidly from the intensity of his erection.
“You feel so good, Daisy. I almost can’t take it.”
She squeezed her eyes at his words, gripping him with her walls, eliciting a groan from him that did tumbles to her belly. An unexpected tear slid down her face from the sheer magnitude of the pleasure.
Mark started to move at last, gliding in and out without pause, driving Saturday senseless with his stroke.
She felt detached from her own body, completely removed from this shell… floating on some plane of heaven that she hadn’t even known existed.
She was suspended above and out of herself, watching her physical embodiment experience the most intense orgasm of her life.
When the scattered pieces of her consciousness finally came back together, she found herself gasping for air, almost drowning in the glow of this ecstasy.
An ecstasy she knew she’d never find with anyone but Mark.
***
The next morning’s light was bright, stinging Saturday’s eyes very early after dawn.
She wandered out of bed, instinctively reaching for the curtains to dim the brightness of the renewed sun’s radiance. She took a pause by the window, glancing back at the bed.
With total disregard for her own nudity, she ogled Mark’s naked form, allowing her eyes to feast upon his immaculate body.
The sheets partially covered his lower half, leaving his granite-cut arms and abdominals on display. He was deliciously toned, every part of him chiseled to this leanly muscular perfection.
She caught herself staring…not just to enjoy the view but also to await the inevitable pangs of regret she believed would surface after making love with him last night.
But they never came.
All she could feel was fulfillment… and a mild case of euphoria.
And right now, all she wanted was for him to take her again as he did the night before, but she knew she couldn’t.
“Once” was a concept that Mark didn’t understand, and if she let him make love to her that morning, they wouldn’t leave that hotel room until he had discovered ten more ways to make her climax.
She didn’t have the time right now, with all that was going on with her family.
Furthermore, she had already snuck out
like a disobedient teenager last night, and her mom would be waking soon… if she hadn’t already.
When Mark awoke, he rolled over to find Saturday slipping her nightshirt over her head and shoving her cellular phone back into its front pocket.
He looked completely rattled upon seeing her grab her things.
He sat up straight in bed, what few blankets covering his body now sliding to the side.
Saturday couldn’t help but look.
“Where are you going?” he said, narrowing his eyes.
He held out a hand for her. “Come back to bed.”
Finally averting her eyes from below Mark’s waist, Saturday shrugged blushingly, brushing a lock behind her ear.
“I wish I could. I can’t. I’ve got to go check on my dad… and also make sure my mom’s not losing it.”
She grinned sheepishly up at him, feeling awkward again: like a tongue-tied teen standing in front of her crush.
“I’ll be back, though.” She nodded with sudden conviction. “I promise.”
Mark stood from the bed then, stalking his way over to her until he stood nose to nose with her.
“Then I’ll be waiting. I’m here… if you need me. Whenever… you need me.”
He kissed her lips softly, pulling back only to look firmly into her eyes.
“I know,” she responded faintly. “Thank you.”
She turned around and walked to the door, placing a hand on the doorknob when she stopped.
She twisted on her heel, throwing a smirk in Mark’s direction.
“After all of this… I’d say you’re pretty much off the hook from sending me ‘win-her-back’ presents,” she bantered.
Mark’s face turned blank, his eyes growing wide and curious.
“I’m sorry…what did you just say?”
She bowed her head: afraid she had offended him.
“I mean, so many of them were beautiful gifts. Well…those Disney on Ice tickets will never be used, but still…”
He interrupted.
“Daisy, what are you talking about?”
She tilted her head, scrunching her face in confusion.
“The gifts you’ve sent me...”
He held up a hand, shaking his head with squinting eyes.
“Daisy, I haven’t sent you anything. With the exception of your beautiful painting, I haven’t had anything delivered to you.”
Chapter Nine
No Calm before the Storm
Two weeks later, Saturday stood in front of her favorite art supplies store, waiting for her afternoon date.
This date, however, was a change-up from the one she’d been having for the past couple of months.
Instead of her usual “gay play-husband” walking through the front door, it was Mark this time.
She wanted to smile when she saw him, but this wasn’t exactly a joyous occasion.
Well, her father had made a full recovery from his heart attack and subsequent scare. And after taking his first real break from his practice, he was growing stronger and getting better every day.
Not just physically better, though.
He was improving by leaps and bounds: emotionally, spiritually and mentally.
She was able to talk to him by phone without arguing, for once. And he and Mrs. Blake had even attended their first therapist session together.
Karen had relocated out of the house and back into the arms of her tennis-coaching lover, but now she and Thomas were establishing a healthy rapport: something they hadn’t truly maintained in over a decade.
Before, they’d been married business partners.
Now, they were amicably separated friends.
That wasn’t the issue that was plaguing her that afternoon, however.
The note in her pocketbook was.
It was the third letter that she’d received since she’d come back from Washington with Mark in tow.
Back at the Hyatt hotel, she had suffered a mini stroke when she realized that all of the gifts, letters and packages weren’t from him at all.
The deliveries were so specific, so personally tailored to Saturday’s tastes that she had naturally assumed that Mark, who had given her presents before, was the man responsible.
But he wasn’t… and now she had to deal with the fact that someone… someone she knew… or, rather someone who knew her, was actively courting her from afar.
For the second time in just one week, she had received a personal note: addressed to her… and her alone.
The persistence with which this person pursued her surpassed the scale of a normal secret admirer.
This wasn’t flattering.
It was frightening.
When she told Mark about the deliveries, he had taken a visit to UPS himself, ensuring that not another parcel come to her apartment door.
His demands worked… but now the notes were being sent to her job.
A handwritten note arrived at the gallery that very morning.
When Mark caught sight of her, he ambled over, placing a warm kiss on her brow.
She frowned.
“What’s wrong, Daisy?” he demanded.
She pulled the note out of her purse, setting it in his palm.
He opened it, his now-slanted eyes scanning the text.
She knew exactly what he was reading; she had read it over a dozen times this morning.
Saturday, I was informed that my packages were prevented from coming to your home. Why would you do that? Can’t you see that these gifts are from someone who cares? Someone who cares enough for you to risk everything?
You should be grateful to have someone who cares like I do. I’m sending another package. Try to appreciate that one.
Mark squeezed the note in his hand, crumpling it in anger.
“Where did you get this?” he fumed. “I specifically told the company not to…”
She interjected.
“It didn’t come to my apartment, Mark. It came to Clairvoyage.”
“Clairvoyage? Are you fucking kidd…You know what? Forget this. This is getting insane. You’re staying with me.”
“No!” Saturday shouted instinctively. She peeked sideways at the other customers, mortified by her own outburst.
“No,” she hissed more quietly. “I’m ok… It’s ok. Let’s just… we’ll come up with something, alright?”
He squinted in confusion, his dark brows contorting with a combo of indignation and ire.
“What? Look, Daisy…”
A ringing phone interrupted what Saturday knew would be a tirade.
Mark dug in his jeans’ pocket and answered it.
“Yeah…?... Josh, I’m kind of in the middle of something… Really? You’re sure?... Alright, fine… I’m there.”
He ended the call with a push of a button.
“Stupid ass duty calls. I’ve gotta go. This exhibit is turning out to be a fucking nightmare.” He kissed her lips… stopped… then kissed them again.
He withdrew to glare into her eyes.
“This conversation isn’t over, Daisy. I’m coming over tonight… and that’s that.”
His fiery irises dared her to defy him.
She wouldn’t push it; she nodded in acquiescence.
His wink was stern instead of whimsical this time, and he disappeared out of the door.
She didn’t know why… but she didn’t want to stay at Mark’s place. She hadn’t stepped foot in it since that fateful night.
Not yet, anyway.
Maybe she was still uncomfortable. Maybe she didn’t want to relive the memories.
Or maybe… she hadn’t grown to fully trust him yet…
No, I do… or I wouldn’t have let him back in my life.
I don’t know… but it’s something…
Something is holding me back.
She called Kara to take her mind off of the heavy stuff.
“Hello, you Beverly Hills bimbo,” she joked liltingly. “How are you?”
“Oh, the same way I always
am out here in LA: exhausted. How you doing, mon petite artiste?”
“Eh… comme ci, comme ca,” Saturday replied. “In need of a serious pick-me-up.”
“Awww, Daze. Well, stop being asocial then, you little loner. Hang out with some homies… or something,” Kara laughed. “What about the Greenhouse gang?”
She means Mr. Moon-eyed David and Talks-too-much Tiffany?
“Next.”
“How about Charlie?”
The dreaded ex…
“Next.”
“Have you seen Francois lately?”
“Francois? No. God, no. Not in weeks… and I have to admit: I’m not sad about it. Francois has gotten so weird lately. If only you could see how strange he’s been acting...”
“Oh, you mean he’s been acting up because of the fact that he’s so in love with you?”
Saturday paused, struggling to find the words.
“He… wait… you knew?!”
“Of course I did.” She scoffed over the line. “I mean, it was pretty obvious to almost everyone who knows us… and certainly, me.”
“Well, jeez, Kara. I mean…why didn’t you tell me?”
Kara exhaled roughly.
“Can I share a little secret with you?”
“Of course you can. It’s me.”
“Ok. So I… had… a crush on Francois at one point.”
Saturday instantly remembered that night Francois showed up back in the city at the Thrill. The scorch from Kara’s stare was irrevocably imprinted in her mind.
It hadn’t been pretty.
She figured it was best to pretend to be oblivious.
“Really? Wow. I… uh… I hadn’t noticed.”
Lie better, Saturday. You fucking suck at this.
Saturday cleared her throat, giving it another try. “I can’t believe it.”
She cringed at her own phony tone of voice, but Kara didn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah… I hadn’t wanted anyone to know. And it’s a good thing too… because what I felt for Francois is nothing compared to what I have now. I have the love I want in my life. And it’s great.”
Saturday thought of Kara’s photographic mogul boyfriend, James, and smiled with affection.
Their kooky, zany, fast-paced relationship was definitely unconventional… but it worked. And she was happy for Kara.
Behind the Blindfold: A Sexy Mystery Duet Page 25