Page 52 of My Turn Petal
Damn, this man is irresistible.
“Are you trying to taunt me?” he continues to ravish my body with his starry eyes.
“Maybe I am,” emitting my confidence, I eye him back.
I feel the massive bulge in his navy pantsuit. So thick. Mouthwatering. I hardly swallow.
A growl erupts from his chest, sending shockwaves to my core.
“Gape your mouth.” He instructs me as he wraps his large palm around my throat.
I hold on to his thumb and pat it over my mouth, getting all the angles covered.
“You’ve been sticking needles into my skin for years, now I get to do the same to you.” His deep voice is like ecstasy in my ear, “I’ll poke you with my words. I’ll tear those clothes with my gaze. Your walls will kneel before me. And then, maybe, I will kiss your lips.” Flames raging in his eyes.
I gawk, speechless by what he had said. I don’t even know what to say to that. I don’t want to ruin the moment. Though, I do want to kiss him.
God! I want to kiss him. And not just because of this. I wanted to do that for a very long time. Ever since that day he showed up at my door and saw me with tears in my eyes after I broke up with my ex who was the biggest asshole on the planet.
Theo never left me. He always showed up when I needed him even without realizing it. He was always around me, lifted my spirit, and made sure I ate well.
Reflecting on it makes me smile in the mirror.
I never thought I was into all of that princess shit. I am. So. Fucking. Much.
It’s different with him, he extracts those magnetizing responses out of my body. Out of my throat. Out of me. I always relied on myself. Yet ever since I stepped into this building and he offered to carry my boxes, I wasn’t alone anymore in that sense, I permitted myself to rely on him more than I thought.
Somehow, trusting him was simple. Effortless. And he has shown me that for three years.
He pats over the remnants of lipstick, “I’ll wait for you in my car.” He bites the crook of my neck tenderly, his hot breath on my flesh as he plants a kiss on my shoulder blade and walks away to wash his hands before he walks out of the front door.
I’m high on his sedating effect.
After a long drive, we arrive at a Mediterranean-style villa with massive balconies on each side of its three levels and a gigantic pool in the back.
A beautiful wide-open grass yard encircles the house as we make our way to the party.
The dress code is formal and amongst the crowd, they look royal but the energy is like a Friday night in a friend’s house as everyone laughs and chats.
Loud music blasts the atmosphere from two large speakers. Every corner is occupied. Coolers with alcohol, juices, and water bottles lay on a long table with different fruits, desserts, and salads.
Thick smoky air coats my skin. The pungent scent of meat lingers in the air from a barbecue in the far back.
An average-height man strides in our direction, with light-brown hair and a wide smile that reaches his eyes, wearing a black tailored suit.
“Frankie, this is Nick,” Theo introduces us, “My best friend since college.”
“Unfortunately for him,” Nick comments as I shake his hand, “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I reply. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you! All thanks to my beloved wife, Andy.” He waves toward a short petite woman with a black up-do hairstyle, wearing a stunning strapless champagne dress.
“I didn’t know we have a celebrity in the house,” she joins our circle, squeezing my hand lightly. “Frankie Anderson, your tattoos are phenomenal.” She sounds ebullient, emphasizing each word.
“Thank you so much.” It’s always nice to get this reaction about my art. Those warm words mean a lot to me. Being appreciated for my hard work is a boost to my system.
“She’s got a point,” Nick adds. “We have an appointment at your shop next month.” I run the client’s schedule in my head until it dawns on me.
