Good Karma

by Donya Lynne

  “Oh my God,” she mumbled through brownie. “Mmmm.” She closed her eyes and relished the taste and exquisite, melt-in-your-mouth texture. She moaned again, chewing slowly. Flavors burst one over the other, chocolate upon chocolate with a hint of vanilla and caramel, which coated her tongue like ribbons of buttery goodness.

  “Good?” he said, crossing his arms and resting them on the counter.

  She nodded, swallowed, and then took another bite. Mark grinned, straightened, and returned to the bag on the opposite counter, where he pulled out a small blue square, returned, and set it in front of her. It was a piece of Dove milk chocolate.

  Covering her mouth, she laughed. “I see your point,” she said, looking at the brownie then the Dove square.

  If a G-spot orgasm the Mark Strong way was indeed like this brownie, which should have had a spotlight on it, then she was definitely in store for a lot of moans instead of smiles. But she would take the smiles, too.

  He leaned on the counter. “And what’s my point, Miss Mason?”

  With a coy smile, she eyed her plate then looked back at him. “Let’s just say I hope you give me lots of brownies if they’re going to be this good.”

  A devious smile lit his face as the mood shifted slightly toward sexual. “I can manage that.”

  She picked up the fork and grabbed another bite. “My God, this is good.”

  “Can I have a taste?”

  “Can a man experience chocolate chunk brownies?” She smirked and licked caramel off her fork.

  “No, but I can choose to withhold them.”

  “Awe, you’re no fun.” Giving in, she nodded toward the silverware drawer. “Grab a fork there, teacher, and dig in and help me eat this incredible thing.”

  As he joined her, she stared at the planes of his face, his Grecian nose, his strong chin with the small dimple in the center, the sharp slope of his jaw, and the way the muscles of his cheek and jaw bunched and flexed as he chewed. Seriously, the guy was gorgeous. And he was here, with her, giving her chocolate chunk brownies…or preparing to, however you wanted to look at it.

  He swirled the last piece of brownie in the vanilla sauce on the plate, and her gaze dropped to his hand.

  “I like your hands.” She set down her fork, reached across the counter, and caressed the backs of his fingers. His skin was warm. “They’re man’s hands.”

  “Oh?” He sounded intrigued. “And what exactly are man’s hands?”

  “The kind you have,” she said evasively. The atmosphere around them heightened with sensuality, and her pulse quickened.

  Mark set his fork on the empty plate and came around the counter. “You can do better than that.” His voice purred from his throat, low and seductive.

  “Haven’t we discussed this already,” she said as he spun her around on the bar stool and stepped between her knees.

  “Only that you’re a woman who likes hands, but not what makes mine ‘man’s hands.’ I’m eager to hear your definition.” His sexy smirk sent a quiver of heat down her spine. Before she could utter another word, he gripped her hips and tugged her sharply toward him.

  She gasped at his aggressiveness. “That. What you just did. That’s what makes them man’s hands.”

  “Does it now?” He encroached more fully into her personal space and licked his lips. “Duly noted.” His palms flowed down the tops of her thighs. “But I’m glad you like my hands.”

  Her breath hitched. “Why’s that?” He was so close she could feel his body heat.

  “Because my hands like touching you.” For emphasis, his palms slid back up the outside of her thighs to her hips, where he took hold of her again. He leaned in. “By the way, you look nice tonight,” he whispered, drawing his tongue down to her bare shoulder. He let go of her hip and brushed back her hair.

  She was wearing a demure, baby-doll halter that fit more securely around the bodice but draped like the skirt of a flowing gown below her breasts. She almost hadn’t put it on because of how much skin it showed, but now she was glad she had. “Thank you.”

  His lips brushed over her skin. “How’s your reading coming along?” He sounded distracted.

  Breathless, Karma’s pulse quickened. “Good.”

  “Learning anything about yourself?” He softly kissed the side of her neck.

  She nodded, and her eyelids drifted shut. “Mm-hm.”

  “And your Kegels? You’ve been doing them?” His lips eased up the side of her neck to her ear.

  “Mm-hm.” She tried not to melt.

  “And your training?” His voice was a hot whisper.

  It took her a moment to understand he was referring to the glass dildos. “You haven’t been here to help me,” she whispered back, sounding like she’d just dove into a pool of chilled water from the way her breath hitched.

  “I’m here now.”

  Yes, he was. Very much so.

  He dotted tiny kisses back down her neck and along her jaw, and then paused only a second before taking her bottom lip between both of his.

  That falling sensation she was beginning to associate with Mark’s kisses swirled inside her stomach the moment their mouths touched, and when his tongue flicked along the seam of her lips in a tender invasion, the weightless sensation flared again like hummingbird wings in flight.

  He tasted like chocolate and vanilla, and his lips were smooth and warm. Strong. Demanding, but in a subtle way that hinted at forced restraint.

  Not long ago, Karma would have tensed in his arms. Her inexperienced, self-conscious side would have forced her to anxiously withdraw, but those days were quickly fading into the past. Mark was gently leading her down a new path, guiding her smoothly into a new existence. One where she relaxed more, enjoyed the experience of being in a man’s arms, and felt more comfortable seeking what gave her pleasure.

  When had she ever felt beautiful and desirable before Mark came along? Never. Gratitude blossomed for these gifts he was giving her, and for once, she let herself go. She gave in to the ravenous yearning that begged her to explore what he offered. Surging against him, her arms drove around his shoulders, and her legs locked at the ankles around his hips.

  In unison, they both moaned, and his mouth crashed hard and deep against hers, bending her backward against the force of his arousal. The backs of her shoulders dug into the counter behind her, and his grip tightened as he tugged her lower body forward on the stool until the juncture between her legs met the hardness beneath the zipper of his jeans. Lust bulleted down her thighs and up her spine, making her groan and grind herself against him. A guttural rumble stirred from his throat at the increased contact, and he thrust himself against her as his teeth latched onto her bottom lip.

  They’d gone from playful teasing to full-on fuck-me mode in less than five seconds. Their chemistry with one another was off the charts and undeniable…breathtaking and mind-blowing.

  Gasping into his mouth, Karma shoved her fingers into his thick hair and gripped a handful as she would the mane of a stallion if she were riding bareback. If she didn’t hold on tight, she would tumble off, and she didn’t want to fall. She wanted the ride to keep going. He growled as she reinforced her grip with both hands and let her tongue dance with his. She was lost to unbridled passion, consumed by desire.

  Then she was being lifted off the stool. And not just lifted, but hoisted like a maiden being rescued from a dragon’s lair into her savior’s arms. Without breaking the urgent kisses shattering her mental barriers, Mark carried her through the living room, down the hall, and to the bedroom. Somewhere in her conscious mind, she knew where they were going…knew the intimacy her bedroom implied…but she couldn’t stop him. The last thing she wanted was to put an end to the incredible, lip-searing way his mouth took hers over and over…the way his tongue stroked hers as if he couldn’t get far enough inside her. He kicked the bedroom door open, hustled her inside, and crashed over her as they fell onto the bed.

  Mark was like ocean surf quickly building in
strength and power, rolling against her, consuming her, relentlessly spiraling her up, up, and still further until she was riding on the crest of his wave.

  She had been starving, famished for pleasure. Now Mark was giving it to her.

  The voice in the back of her mind told her she needed to stop, but her body was too far gone to listen, too caught up in its gluttonous binge.

  Mark’s mouth, his lips, his tongue…they ravished her, stole her breath, further weakened whatever thread of resolve she had left. It was like he was just as hungry as she was. As if he, too, was overwhelmed with the need to take all he could before it was too late. They were soaring out of control, and he didn’t seem capable of stopping any more than she was.

  Then one of his hands pushed under her blouse, speeding toward her breast.

  That’s when Karma shot back to reality the same way she had in his hotel room the night they met.

  “No!” She jumped and slammed her hand down on his before she could stop herself.

  Mark jerked away and yanked his hand out from under her shirt, eyes wide and confused, as if he, too, had just come back to his senses.

  The sexually intoxicating mood vaporized. Gone. Destroyed again by Karma’s childhood memories.

  “I’m sorry.” Karma immediately felt the need to apologize. “I just—”

  “Sshh.” He cupped her face and shook his head. He appeared dazed. His brow crinkled. “I shouldn’t have…” He trailed off as if he wasn’t sure what he shouldn’t have done.

  They were both breathing hard, strained to their physical limits.

  Old memories rushed back from Karma’s childhood. This wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t him, it was her. And how cliché was that? It’s not you, it’s me. Blech! She didn’t want to say something so pathetic at a moment like this.

  “Mark—”

  “No. I’m sorry.” He rolled onto his back. He seemed disoriented and stared up at the ceiling.

  Awkward silence filled the open space, murdering the intense chemistry that only moments ago had connected them. Would she ever rid herself of the damage of her childhood?

  “Mark…” Karma sighed, hating the cool air that replaced the warmth of his body. “You don’t understand.” She closed her eyes, said a silent prayer for courage, and sighed as she glanced at him again. “Look, I need to tell you something. Something about my past. Something important.” She needed to be honest with him. Didn’t he deserve that much? Didn’t she? Perhaps it was time to face the past once and for all. “Maybe if I explain, you’ll understand.” And maybe if she explained, she could finally banish the shame. She rolled onto her side, facing him.

  His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell heavily.

  After this, there wouldn’t be any secrets left. Mark would know more about her than anyone else, except for maybe Lisa and Daniel.

  As Mark opened his eyes and rolled his head to look at her, she felt an odd sense of relief. She hadn’t even begun but already felt better. Just the thought of telling him the painful truth was enough to alleviate the strain that had been on her nerves since she’d met him.

  Mark’s mind was still in all kinds of improper places. He couldn’t believe he had almost made love to her. Here. Right now. Tonight. Before she was even ready. But he had careened out of control once Karma wrapped her legs around him and kissed him in earnest. She had felt so good, and her mouth felt so right on his.

  He had never wanted to make love to a woman as badly as he had wanted to make love to Karma. Even now, his body throbbed to join with hers. God, what was wrong with him? He needed to focus, calm down, listen to what Karma had to say. From the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears and her fingers worried over themselves, whatever was on her mind was important.

  Taking a deep breath to rinse the lusty cobwebs from his thoughts, he rolled onto his side to face her. “I’m listening.” He still felt awful for pushing her the way he had. He had promised to take care of her, and yet he had rushed her like a bull. What had he been thinking?

  Outside, distant lightning flashed, and a low rumble of thunder announced the coming storm. Inside, Karma seemed to have a storm of her own brewing, her eyes filling with shadows.

  “When I was a kid, I was a bit of a tomboy,” she said. “I was kind of geeky and scrawny with long hair and glasses.” She rolled her eyes. “A real looker, you know.” A forced smile that showed she was trying to be funny dashed across her face then disappeared. “My dad was still working his way up the corporate ladder, and we weren’t the richest family in town. We did well, but in Clover?” She blew out a derisive puff of air. “Unless you’re a one-percenter here, you’re bait. And for a kid in school, it’s even worse.” She grew quiet as evidence of hard memories shadowed her face.

  “What happened?” Memories of his own harsh childhood bubbled into his mind. He had been teased ruthlessly for dancing. Surely, Karma hadn’t been made fun of like that. The idea that she had endured something so ugly hurt his heart. He reached out to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

  Her gaze flicked to his hand, and she smiled. “I was a late bloomer,” she said. “Really late.”

  “What do you mean?” Was she talking physically or something else?

  She hid her face behind her hand. “This is so embarrassing…”

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll understand.”

  “No,” she said immediately, drawing her hand away from her face. “I want to tell you. I need to get this out once and for all. It’s just hard.”

  He brushed his fingers over her cheek as more thunder, closer this time, rumbled outside. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She had the loveliest face. Smooth skin. Cute, slightly upturned nose that sort of reminded him of a rabbit’s. And her pretty lips were swollen and pouty after their bruising make-out session.

  After a moment, she breathed in and forced herself to continue. “So, okay…I was a late bloomer. When most of the other girls in school started to develop breasts in sixth or seventh grade, I was still flat as a pancake. And the fact that I wasn’t part of the affluent, popular crowd singled me out even more. Add to that my younger brother loved torturing me, and you might see where this is going.”

  Yes, he was beginning to get some idea, and a mix of despair, sympathy, and anger roiled in his veins.

  “Well,” Karma said, continuing, “things didn’t get better as I got into high school. The other girls kept developing, and I kept not developing.” She sighed. “It wasn’t until late my freshman year that anything began to grow on me at all…other than my stupid hair, of course. By then, the names I was called had already become engrained with my classmates, fueled, of course, by my brother and Jolene.” She slouched. “Yes, Jo was part of the crowd who made fun of me, along with the girl my brother ended up marrying, Estelle. But they weren’t the only ones. I was teased everywhere. In the girls’ locker room. Between classes. After school. On the bus. It was awful. This went on for years.”

  Mark shifted closer and rested his hand on her waist. It wasn’t much, but it was a small gesture of how he wished he could protect her. Everything he learned about Karma, including this, made his picture of her that much clearer. He had suspected something tragic had occurred in her past, but he hadn’t imagined anything like this. No wonder she had reacted the way she did when he shoved his hand up her blouse. And no wonder she had fled his room the night of the benefit. Hadn’t she frozen up then the same way she had tonight…right after he touched her breast? He would have to be more careful from now on. Slow down and be more patient.

  “I was called Mosquito Bite and Pancake…and other more offensive names.” Her voice grew quiet. “People told me that I was so flat that even the walls got jealous. When I was in eighth grade, someone taped a training bra to the outside of my locker. I was mortified when I got to school and saw it. Everyone laughed as I tried to take it down, but they had used a lot of tape. The hall was full of kids laughing and
pointing, and I was desperately trying to rip off all the tape. Another time it was a jock strap and a note that said, ‘Maybe you’re better equipped to wear one of these instead of a bra.’ After that, kids teased me that I was really a boy dressed like a girl.” Tears welled in her eyes, and Mark could hear in her choked voice that she was forcing herself not to cry. It took every ounce of restraint not to pull her against him and hold her, but he sensed she needed to get this out.

  “The humiliation was endless.” She sniffled. “Another time in eighth grade, I liked this boy named Dave. Dave Warren. We shared a lunch period. And I always carried my journal with me. I was always writing in it. Between classes, during class, on the bus. I wrote about Dave a lot.”

  Her thoughts seemed to be tumbling out in random order.

  “I was always too shy to talk to Dave, even though his lunch table was next to mine and he sat behind me in history class.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “So, there I was, in the cafeteria. I set my books on my table, went up to get my lunch, and when I came back, my journal was gone.”

  Mark tensed. This story couldn’t have a happy ending and he wished he could go back in time and right the wrong that had been done to her that day.

  “I freaked,” she said. “I looked everywhere. Then I heard the laughter.” She cringed and briefly covered her face. “I turned around, and there was my brother, Jo, and Estelle, reading my journal. My diary. All my private thoughts, all the poems I’d written…all of it about Dave.” She visibly sagged. “Dave was right there. Right beside them. And Johnny began reading out loud. ‘Dave is so cute. I wish he would ask me out. Does he even know I exist?’ God, it was humiliating. Dave looked at me like I was a hideous monster, and Johnny kept taunting me. ‘Karma’s got a cru-ush, Karma’s got a cru-ush. Mosquito Bite’s in loooooove.’ It was awful. I can still hear his stupid voice teasing me.” She shook her head against her palms. “Everyone laughed…the whole cafeteria. I just wanted to crawl into a cave. I gathered my books, pried my journal from Johnny’s hands, and ran out of the cafeteria as Johnny and his friends yelled after me, calling me all those horrible names and laughing.”