Before I can push them down, Mark reaches for me and slips his thumbs into my waistband to help me glide them over my hips.
As I shimmy them off and toe them aside, Mark’s guttural groan fills the room.
“Mmmm… Faye. You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”
Feeling bold, I step back and slowly spin to let him appreciate all aspects of the blue panties he was eager to see. They give me full coverage in the front, but the back is a no-show thong, leaving my cheeks exposed.
His quick intake of breath lets me know my newfound hobby is a success.
Who knew going to the gym to help Dad get back into shape would have so many benefits for me?
Mark always was an ass man, and from the look in his eyes that meet mine when I face him, I’m glad to see some things haven’t changed.
“You’re playing with fire, Faye,” is the only warning I get.
Before inhaling my next breath, he reaches for me and crashes his lips onto mine.
This time, as he palms my ass and lifts me off my feet, he merely pivots and drops me onto the enormous king-sized bed behind us.
Eager for him to join me, I scooch toward the center of his dark-gray comforter, but he stops me with a hand on my calf. “Not so fast, sweetheart. I’ve spent the better part of three days fantasizing about you… Not to mention it’s been over thirty years since we’ve been together. There’s no way in hell we’re rushing this.”
For the second time tonight, my heart squeezes at the memories.
He’s the only one who’s ever called me sweetheart—well, the only one I ever let get away with it.
With Mark, it was never derogatory or condescending.
It was truly a form of endearment.
One that held hope and the promise of a future.
One that made me feel safe and confident to just be myself.
I never had to be anything but me when we were together.
Maybe it’s because he was my first, but there was something different about the way we explored one another and pushed things to the next level that always had me burning with desire and ready to go when it came to him.
Mark interrupts my trip down memory lane by running a palm along my inner leg up to my thigh and down to my ankle.
Tugging me to the end of the bed, he lets out a low whistle. “Damn, your skin is just as smooth as I remember,” he murmurs.
Goose bumps scatter across my heated flesh as my core clenches.
Brushing his lips along my calf, he moans in satisfaction. “Fuck, you taste just like I remember.”
“What do you mean?” The question flies from my mouth before I can think better of it.
Between kisses up my leg, he satisfies my curiosity.
“Fuck… You taste like a warm summer day…. I swear there’s a hint of vanilla and lavender…” He stops to run his tongue along my inner thigh, and it takes everything in me not to squirm like crazy.
“But it’s so much more than that… You just taste like…” He shakes his head as if he can’t find the words, and I feel his hot breath at the apex of my thighs.
“God, that feels good,” I cry, fisting the soft comforter beneath me.
Licking his tongue along my skin just beneath the seam of my panties, my hips buck into him, and he finally continues his thought on an exhale. “Like you.”
I barely process his words when his finger slides beneath the fabric along my other thigh. It glides with ease through my folds and circles my clit, only to slide into me and stroke me from within.
