He’s perfect, but he’s not Mr. Perfect. God, I need to get Nate out of my head.
“Interrupting? You? Never!” she says, blushing and tucking her white-blonde hair behind her ear. “I believe we were done, right, um Jane, dear?” she says, raising her eyebrows at me.
I couldn’t remember a damn thing of what the hell we were just talking about as Heath smiles at me.
Heath smiled at me.
Then, he winks. At me.
Something strange and alarming starts happening to my knees at that precise point, and all I can think about is how he must look without his shirt on. Or pants. Or if he were shirtless and pantless say in, like, my bedroom.
“Jane? We’re on the same page in regards to the costume ball, correct?” Gail chirps, tapping a pen against her coffee mug and smiling up wistfully in Heath’s direction.
“Huh? What? No. No, we are not on the same page,” I stammer, almost incoherently.
“Your bff, Jules is coming with her new dick on a stick from the art department.”
Jesus, really? My heart can’t take much more of this.
“Heath,” she purrs, batting her extra-long store-bought eyelashes at him, “don’t you agree that Jane should go to the costume ball?” She bites her Botoxed bottom lip to help make the question somehow more enticing to him. God, I despise her and her phoniness. Everything about her is fake; I bet if you turn her upside down and read the tag in the crack of her ass it would say “Made in China.” The woman needs to be slapped with a dick.
“Yeah, definitely,” he says, turning his gaze on me again. His eyes are the lightest brown, almost amber and mesmerizing. “You have to come. We’ll have a blast.”
“We will?” I softly ask.
“Yeah, of course we will. You definitely need to come,” he says, making my mouth water—because just listening to him, I definitely need to come. I bet he can get my mind off Nate being with Julia and not me. Maybe Heath and me and Mr. Perfect and Julia could double date and then Nate could get madly insanely jealous and—
Yeah, I need to get over Nate real quick, this is not healthy at all.
Chapter 9
The soft flickering glow of small candles fall across the room and the scent of cinnamon, pine, and other unnamable spices hang in the air. Digital booths are placed in dark corners to take pictures in, circular tables are set up with fancy drinks stacked in pyramids, and there’s even a booth where thousands of dollar bills fly around for party guests to try and catch. Inside is a glittery fairy with sparling wings that smash up against the glass sides of the enclosure. She, or it could very well be a he, jumps around flailing their arms trying to grab as much as they can.
Outside the game, a unicorn and a large bird cheer the fairy on.
It’s the most bizarre experience.
I sit at a small table decorated with seasonal debris, surrounded by my office colleagues; none of which are in any way recognizable, dressed in their over-the-top costumes. Next to me, a woman leans close to my ear and giggles, “Gail really outdid herself this year, huh?” She smells like cherry lip gloss and tequila.
I try looking into her eyes as her mask of beads twinkles at me, but I have no idea who she might be. “Yes, she definitely did,” I agree, beginning to feel a little bit giddy about being in disguise. The reality of it hits me swift and hard. No one knows it’s me. In theory, this night could be epic.
For one night, I don’t have to be regular old Plain Jane.
“When Gail said she was picking out everyone’s costume, I was a little skeptical, you know?” the woman says, shrugging her massively feathered shoulders. “And keeping it a secret was hard. But I get it now; it’s exciting and mysterious.”
“And the costumes are gorgeous,” I whisper, looking down at my designer ensemble. I can’t even explain what I’m supposed to be dressed as, but it’s a stunning piece of gothic fashion. Black organza and silk wrap around my body, making me look sculpted and curvaceous. A tight corset covers my torso decorated with small delicate gears that actually move. A mixture of steampunk and an eighteenth-century prostitute. “My costume is probably worth more than my car.” I feel sexy and alive and sensual and brimming with lustful thoughts.
Julia told me nothing about her costume, only a quick text that it was easy to screw Nate in on the elevator of our apartment building. That made me want to vomit. But I can’t think of them now, I can’t think of them at all. I’m here to help get over Nate Cross and to prove to myself he isn’t my Mr. Perfect. He’s Julia’s, not mine, and I have to deal with it.
I look around for signs of Heath. I want to drown in him to forget anything related to amazing stadium kisses and missed chances and secrets.
Everyone who walks by stares at my breasts. Both men and women, which oddly excites me more. Even my eyes linger on the round swells of them pushing out from my corset each time my eyes dart to one of the mirrored walls. It’s a weird feeling, sitting in a costume like this. I feel freer, prettier, like nothing can stop me.
A monkey with wings screeches past and grabs onto the waist of a dainty little thing dressed as a flower who belts out a scream. I bet the dumbass monkey is Dex, but I can’t tell who the woman is. Whoever she is, she’s chasing the monkey and it’s adorably cute.
A man, dressed in a red tuxedo and a devilish mask pulls out the chair across from me, and greets us with a familiar baritone voice, “Good evening, ladies, you’re both looking stunning tonight.” Through his mask, I see his eyes linger on me and they’re the color of fine whiskey.
His body is a solid, thick mass the red silky costume clings to. A wave of warmth flutters in my stomach. His mask is terrifying and beautiful at the same time, menacing and sexual.
“That is such a striking costume,” the woman next to me says. “Gail dressed you like the devil himself, didn’t she?”
This elicits a deep chuckle as his answer, and he reaches over the table and takes the bottle of red wine to pour himself a glass.
Heath. It has to be him. There is no one in the whole of our office building that is shaped like him, and his voice—his voice is sinful and unforgettable.
My hands shake as I lift my wine to my lips. The dark fruity liquid sloshes over the rim of my glass, dripping down my fingers and splashing drops across my face. I sit there like an idiot, with my trembling fingers practically convulsing and clutching onto the stem of the glass. Why is it still in my damn hand? The horned devil across from me watches, the corner of his masked lips lifting into a slow, sexy smile.
The moment is somehow electric. Sparks of fire rush up my chest and climb the slope of my neck, making my skin burn scarlet. His eyes follow the trail of blush and his tongue darts out a smidge to lick over his devilish lips.
I keep catching him watching me.
People at our table talk to one another in friendly, overly excited tones. How mysterious this all is. How stimulating.
Heath pulls his fork up to his lips and pops a cherry tomato into his mouth. I have never wanted to be a vegetable until this very moment. Both of us eat in silence, watching each other’s every move. The slow rise of his hand, the dab of his napkin against his painted lips. Each move he makes is somehow erotic and full of heat. I bet Gail has pure pheromones blowing in from all the vents in the room.
He drinks his wine in long slow pulls.
I wonder how he is in bed. Is he a slow and generous lover, or rough and hard enough to bruise me? I’m not sure which way I want more right now. For me and my lack of Ohs, I know it would be fast and explosive. I wonder if I’d embarrass myself.
Just after the first course is cleared from the table, Heath excuses himself to use the restroom, leaving his red tuxedo jacket draped over the back of his chair. Waitresses dressed like gypsies dance around with bells on their ankles. They hop to each guest and place a small envelope in front of us, beckoning us to read our fortunes. I tear mine open, laughing, my wine having already gone straight to my head. My fortune reads: “Be brave. Tr
y something you would otherwise never do.”
Next to me, the woman dressed in feathers keeps hers hidden, but after reading it, she gasps loudly and rushes from the table.
Be brave. Try something you would otherwise never do.
I bet Gail wrote these herself. She’s always pushing me out of my comfort zone. Maybe it’s time to push myself. Maybe it’s time to put myself out there and find someone who isn’t off limits to me.
It’s time. It’s time to move on.
I take another deep pull from my drink, letting the alcohol fog my insides even more. I’m about to do something I would otherwise never do—my imagination ignites to life inside me from being eye-fucked from the devil sitting across from me most of the night.
Without thinking another clear thought, I flip over the small card my fortune is written on and pull out a pen from my purse. There’s a man on the other side of the table watching what I’m writing. I don’t care. I feel reckless and ready for anything.
Satan,
Meet me in the red photo booth.
I want to taste how sinful you are.
XOXO
I slip the sexy little note where his fortune sits on his dish waiting for him.
Chapter 10
I press myself against the inside of the booth when he comes in. I gasp loudly as he flattens his palms down on the wall behind me, pushing his hard body into mine. His head leans into my neck, and his open lips slide wetly against my skin.
“Oh my God,” I rasp, breathing in his cologne and feeling the heat of his body on mine.
“No,” he smirks, fumbling with the hem of my dress and tugging it up over my hips, “Wrong guy.” His hand slides between my legs, and his fingers slip into the lace of my panties. “See the horns?”
My skin heats, his fingers taunt and tease circles over my flesh. The small booth becomes hot, and my skin feels sticky and sexy. I’m barely aware of the noises from the party. The glasses and plates clinking, the murmurs and soft music all dull into silence, until I can hear nothing but our heavy gasping breaths and the wet sounds of his fingers dipping inside me. There is no one else around us. My attention is centered on the intense feeling of the Fourth of July celebration happening right inside my panties, and the red ribbed horns twisting from his forehead.
My hands search for his zipper and yank open the button of his pants. He swallows hard and loud when I grasp him in my hand. “Fuck yes,” he hisses.
“Holy shit, you’re fucking huge,” I gasp in awe. Holy dick of all dicks! I’m going to be walking funny tomorrow. I won the grand prize in tonight’s masquerade cock lottery!
He moans out a sexy, low sound, and his head falls back softly against the wall. “Suck me,” he whispers, pressing a hand down on my shoulder. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this since I first met you.”
God, I seriously had no idea.
My knees hit the floor hard, but the only thing I’m aware of is how fast my heart is drumming against my chest. I run my tongue from the base of his cock to his head, and honestly wonder how I’m going to get the whole damn thing into my mouth.
“Is that too much cock for you?” he chuckles, looking down his nose at me. Shit. I don’t want him to think I can’t handle it. This is only the first time we’re together and I don’t want him thinking like everyone else does: Plain Jane is the good girl. This is Heath; I have to make him want to come back for more.
I tilt my head back to take the head of his cock between my lips and hear him take a quick breath in as I slowly take him in deeper. When the tip of his dick hits the back of my throat, I gag, but keep going until my nose touches his pelvis.
“Ah, fuck yeah. Holy fuck, that’s it,” he moans, sliding his fingers into my hair and thrusting farther into my mouth. Moving my head up and down his shaft, I take him far into the back of my throat each time, meeting his movements. My jaw aches instantly. My eyes water, but the way he watches me, and the lust-glaze look in his eyes makes me love every filthy second of it.
Picking up the pace, little by little, I feel his balls tighten, and his breathing accelerate until he is all-out panting and fisting the fabric of my dress tight against my skin.
“Fuck, come up here,” he murmurs, “You’re too good at that, holy shit.”
I crawl up his body, without taking my hands off his cock. Then, I spin around, lifting the back of my dress up over my hips. Slowly, I bend over and slide my panties down my legs. “Slide that big fucking cock in here,” I purr. Fuck, I hope I sounded sexy and not like a complete loser.
“Damn, this is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me,” he breathes, slapping his hand across my ass.
I squeal with delight, and slide my hands up my thighs, over my ass and spread myself open for him. “Yeah, well, it’s about to get a fuck of a lot hotter.”
He shifts closer, grazing his hardness over my wet lips, teasing me, driving me crazy with a wild aching need to be filled. I can’t wait any longer; I push my ass back against him, gliding over his big thick cock. I cry out; pain mixes with pleasure, as he stretches me out and fills me completely.
With a deep low moan, he reaches up and grabs the hair at the nape of my neck and twists it tightly in his fist. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” He tugs his hand until my neck is stretched back. Then, he leans over and kisses right below my ear, thrusting hard and deep inside me.
A warm tingling feeling coils in my clit and balloons up between my legs. “Oh God, I’m going to come. Don’t stop. Please,” I beg, loving the way the sensation slowly throbs and spreads like warmth inside me until it shatters into a hard explosive orgasm that shakes my legs and steals my breath away.
“Oh shit, that’s hot. That’s so fucking hot,” he breathes heavily, as I pulse around him. “Fuck, you come so hard. It feels so fucking good.”
He moves quicker, more urgently. Then, he slips out and presses against the opening of my ass.
“Can I come in your ass?” he asks, low. “I’m so close.”
Hell no. Hell fucking no. Not with that nuclear weapon of ass destruction. “Not my ass. I’m going to shit on your dick…” Holy crap, I’ve never been so crude.
“I don’t care. Shit on me.”
What? Ew. That’s so fucking gross. How the fuck do I get outta this? “Next time. We’ll use lube, and I won’t eat burritos for lunch.”
He chuckles and sinks back inside me with a low moan.
“I want you to come on my cock again,” he whispers, leaning over me and fanning hot breath into my ear. “That felt incredible.” His hand slips around the front of me and reaches between my legs. Warm wet fingertips pinch tightly over my clit, and I’m instantly there again, crying out for him to fuck me harder. He does too. He grips me tighter, and pounds into me mercilessly until his cock is bucking and twitching deep inside me, with him grunting in my ear. “I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming.”
He stills, holding me tight against his chest for a moment, panting heavily. After a few moments, he slowly eases himself out of me and presses his forehead into the back of my shoulder. The heat of his breath tickles through the material of my dress. “That was insane,” he whispers. “I’ve never come that hard before.”
The loss of him inside me is somehow devastating—I feel hollow and exhausted.
Still breathing heavily, he zips up and kicks at the full condom he dropped on the floor, until it’s jammed into the corner of the booth. I step back, my body still trembling, but sated like I’ve never felt before.
“That was honestly the hottest fuck I’ve ever had,” he says, his half-hidden eyes darting back and forth between mine.
We fix ourselves quickly, giggling, and step outside the small booth to a strange sudden silence. Everyone sits frozen, all eyes and heads turned toward us. Behind them in the front of the room, which I hadn’t seen before, are two large screens, each one somehow playing loops of explicit photos.
The devil and his gothic-clad mistress.
Immediately, a
sharp, painful fire stabs across my chest and nausea rolls like a churning sea in my abdomen. How could no one have told us what happened in the booths would be projected up onto the screens? A raw naked feeling of filth and utter shame crawls like slime through my body. Right before I run and curl myself up into a fetal position on a heavily-trafficked street, Heath reaches out and grasps my hand.
He’s not ashamed. He’s not embarrassed at all. Why should he be, wait, why should I be? I smile to myself and stand straighter. Nobody knows who either of us is! The only one who knows our costumes is the person who purchased them all.
“Jane?” someone dressed like a sexy robot whispers. “I’m so happy you took my advice!”
Oh shit.
“J-Jane?” the man I just met biblically stammers, peeling off his mask. Dex’s face stares back at me. “I thought you were Julia!”
Oh my God, I was going to have to boil my vagina! “I thought you were Heath!” I choke, swallowing back vomit.
“Someone needs to stop the live feed of pictures to our website!” someone in the back of the room calls as everyone else pushes back their chairs, stands up, and starts to applaud us.
Except for Nate who sits dumbstruck, mask in hand, watching the video beside an iridescent angel who could only be Julia and who laughs a little too much for being my best friend.
Chapter 11
I still hear the cheers and applause of everyone in the ballroom as I stumble into the grand foyer on wobbly legs. I’m lightheaded and my chest is so tight I can hardly take in enough air.
Are You There, Karma? It’s Me, Jane.: A laugh out loud romantic comedy Page 6