Page 44 of Omega Artist
Pace yourself, big boy!
Then the cabin turns pitch black.
People complain; I don’t, grinning like a moron at my unforeseen luck.
Seriously, if this isn’t the universe pointing out the obvious, I don’t know what is!
Blessed Tig, take two.
My mouth crashes into hers. Her body stiffens against mine, then relaxes as mine stiffens for an entirely different reason. It seems that I’m bound to be hard around her… not that I’m complaining, as long as I can do something about it, which isn’t the case right now. I’m not one for PDA, but the total darkness is the perfect excuse to go from timid to demanding in under two seconds flat. Oddly enough, Roberta Flack’s song resonates inside my head, the one that Mike played when Alie and I left his bar.The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face: “I felt the earth move in my hand…”
Yup, like that.
My lips capture hers. Holy shit! I close my eyes to let the new sensations take over; I’ve kissed my fair share of women by now, but the toe-curling thrill that accompanies this kiss is ridiculous. Our tongues tease. Our tongues caress. Our tongues tangle. The softness of her lips amazes me. The warmth of her lips pleases me. The ardor of her lips electrifies me. The stinky tunnel, the sweaty crowd, and the overheated cabin disappear a little more with each touch, and I get lost in this unprecedented kiss.
The driver mumbles some barely audible information about a mechanical glitch and the train being stuck for a few minutes longer. Or something similar. Who cares?
People around us complain; I don’t, preparing myself to shoot her my most innocent grin as soon as the moment ends. We’re not there yet.
More. More. More.
My tongue claims hers. She opens up for me, fisting my jacket and pulling me closer. I swallow the moan that she heaves, registering that my pulse has quickened to a point that is borderline scary. I ignore it when, once again, she freezes for a split second before she forgets the rest of the world, and her body goes slack. I’m grateful that she’s much more responsive than on Sunday, as if she’s adjusted to the fact that I’m a real person, not just a voice that manages to get her off on a regular basis. My heartbeat continues to play tricks on me as we get acquainted. Exploring. Cajoling. Fighting for dominance. She’s appealing. She’s intoxicating. At this very moment, she’severything.
Without warning, the cabin is flooded with light. My smile is cocky rather than innocent. Her eyes express lust rather than irritation. Our intimacy is praised by a round of applause rather than a report of misconduct. Alas, it no longer exists.
Her penetrating gaze boring into mine, she stands a few inches from me, her jaw reddened by my stubble. Incapable of articulating anything, my chest heaves up and down in a feeble attempt to rein in my wayward state. Witnessing how her front teeth furiously bite the center of her bare lower lip, my thumb instinctively reaches to release it from her assault. With that, her eyes close and her breathing falters. If the way my heart swells is any indication, I’m delighted by the effect that I have on her. For what it’s worth, touching her lip was a bad idea for more reasons than I can count. First, it draws my already filthy mind to her sinful mouth, yet again. Second, it doubles the amount of X-rated images coursing through my mind. Third, it threatens to make my dick swell along with my supposedly dead heart.
It’s a beautiful crisp winter day. Sunny. Freezing. Together… and I can’t wait for us to reach the mysterious and magical destination that I teased her with after we left the Met. For once, I would have preferred to take the scenic route through the city, but the ride from Columbus Circle would’ve taken too long.
Her chocolate eyes peer up at me, stripping me bare, and she eventually breaks the silence. “Seriously, where are you taking me?”
Oh, so that’s how you want to play this?
A question that she’s been impatiently asking ever since we left the William Turner exhibition, where we had a blast—common interests, fascinating points of view, and never-ending debates. Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to determine how she guessed my passion for his work; her answers remained evasive. She couldn’t have known the impact that his art had on mine because I only disclosed that to Delia. She couldn’t have known that, thanks to Turner, Delia pushed me in the right direction to start painting. She couldn’t have known how life-altering his influence had been for me. As disturbing as I find our age difference—especially when I consider my less than honorable intentions—things like this make me want to ignore it. “Please… Tell me where…” she pleads.
“I said ‘No spoilers.’” I pretend that I didn’t throw myself at her minutes ago. “Don’t you know by now that I’m a man of my word?” There’s so much I wish I could confess. There’s so much our relationship needs. There’s so much she deserves. Honesty. Truthfulness. Reality.
All in due time…
Instead, I wiggle my eyebrows and burst out laughing at how dramatic I’m being.
Her fist flies to her hip, and her left brow spikes up. “Really?” The sarcasm in her tone throws me off because I can’t decipher if the question’s rhetorical.
Honesty it is. “You have no idea.”
My admission triggers the suddenly unwelcome memory of the day I dropped down on one knee and proposed to Delia with what I considered to be a massive rock at the time; after all, it represented a year of the meager salary of the trainee that I was back then. I had promised that I’d do right by her. And I did.
Alie’s rocky voice sounds worried and it’s all because of me. “Hey, what’s the matter? You’ve gotthatlook again… the one you had in the restaurant after running into the really tall guy.”
So, you’rethatobservant.
“Don’t mind me. I’m fine.” I school my features to show her exactly that.
“You sure?” She frowns, obviously unconvinced, and shifts slightly to let people get in and out around us. One more stop. “You don’t look fine.” Her gloved hand caresses my arm over my winter jacket, which I find both remarkable and endearing. She squints with her eyes zeroing on me, as if acknowledging her impulse. With a shrug, her hand goes back into her coat pocket.
Our eyes meet, and my breath hitches. “I’ll be fine in a second.” I swallow the lump in my throat. The lump of memories that I cherish but can’t enjoy, considering the situation. “Thanks.”
My gloomy mood is saved by the bell as she takes my hand to exit the subway at our final stop. We walk up the steep hill and, once it’s in view, she stops and gawks as her eyes take in the astonishing place: a secluded medieval haven located in one of the busiest cities in the world.
