MILF: Wrong Kind of Love

  After I straighten up the house a little and fold some laundry, I relax on the couch for what is supposed to only be a short while before painting, but four hours later, when I faintly hear the front door open and close, I’m literally on my knees cheering at the television as Edward tells Bella he’ll change her into a vampire after she marries him.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Gray asks from the doorway, the amusement thick in his voice and twinkling in his eyes.

  “Yes! It’s Twilight movie marathon day!” I announce excitedly, not even bothering to hide my enthusiasm. “Have you seen them before?”

  He throws his head back with a hearty laugh and shakes his head. “I think my girlfriend in high school made me watch the first couple, but I was spared any further torture after that.”

  “Perfect. The second one just ended,” I motion to the credits rolling across the screen, “and the third one starts in about fifteen minutes. I’ll grab some food and drinks while you change and get comfy.”

  Hopping off the couch, I prance toward the kitchen to gather the goodies, when I’m suddenly swept off my feet from behind, eliciting a girlie squeal filled with delighted surprise from my mouth. Cradling me in his arms, pressed against his firm torso, he rubs the tip of his nose against mine—an affectionate act I wasn’t quite expecting—before pressing our lips together in a soft kiss.

  “Didn’t I just tell you these movies are torturous?” he mumbles into my mouth as he carries me to the refrigerator and sets me down on my feet.

  I shrug my shoulders, unable to wipe the silly smile off my face while I grab two beers from the chilled shelf. “You don’t have to watch them with me, Uno. If you want to hang out upstairs by yourself, have at it, but I’ll be down here watching vampires and shifters with beer and munchies if you get bored. ”

  He playfully snatches the beer from my hand and blows out an over-exaggerated sigh. “Well, since you’re begging me to hang out with you,” he teases with a wink, “I guess I can watch them with you for a little while, but tell me I at least get to see some tits or ass action at some point.”

  Slapping his chest with my free hand, I jokingly roll my eyes and saunter over to the oven to preheat it for a frozen pizza. “Such a guy,” I mutter under my breath with a chuckle.

  “So you’re saying there’s no T&A at any point in these movies? No vampire vixens, or wolf-girls on their hands and knees?” he asks incredulously.

  I shake my head as he sets his beer down on the counter and motions me over to him. Licking my lips, I slowly approach, placing my bottle next to his, peering up at him expectantly.

  He wraps his arms around my back, tucking his hands in the back pockets of my jeans, then dips his face down to kiss my jaw. With his erection nestled tightly against my belly, arousal ripples through me like a shockwave, leaving me unable to explain the power he has over my body. If he wanted to take me right here in the kitchen, there’s no way I could deny him.

  “You gonna treat me with your beautiful tits and sweet ass later?” His warm breath caresses my ear as I shudder an exhale.

  “If that’s what you want,” I whisper.

  Pressing his cock harder into me, he skims his nose along the length of my throat, melting me from the inside out. “What does it feel like I want, mi cielo?”

  He shifts slightly to the left and wedges his muscular thigh between my legs, the pressure against my aching sex a curse and a blessing all at once. Slowly, guiding me with his hands still on my butt, he begins to rub his muscular thigh up and down my jean-clad mound, pushing the well-placed seam directly against my throbbing clit.

  My fingers tug impatiently through his coal hair as I brazenly grind on him, my breath growing more erratic by the second.

  “Fuck, Gray,” I groan, my lips resting on his strong jaw.

  “That’s exactly what I want to do,” his hands mold to the globes of my ass, encouraging me to continue shamelessly riding his leg, “but I thought you wanted to watch a movie.”

  My hands drop to the button of his slacks, fumbling around frantically as I try to get them undone. “After,” I pant. “We can watch the movie after. I want you inside me now.”

  In less than a minute, my denim shorts and panties are stripped from my body and I’m bent over the closest bar stool with my ass in the air, waiting for him to soothe the intense ache inside my smoldering core.

  Lightly tracing his fingertips along my tingling lower lips, he tangles his other hand in my hair, gently tugging my head back to look over my shoulder at him. “Tell me again. Tell me what you want, belleza,” he demands, a devilish grin spreads across his gorgeous face.

  “You. I want you, Gray. Please...we have to hurry,” I urge, afraid I may die if he keeps me in limbo like this much longer.

  He complies without wasting another second, retrieving a condom from his wallet, rolling it on, and driving deep inside my slick opening with a single thrust.

  It doesn’t take either of us long to reach our breaking point. Only a few minutes of him bucking wildly between my thighs sends me tumbling through euphoric shockwaves, and as I cry out his name, he plunges into me one final time, his entire body stiffening behind me as he finds his own release.

  After a few silent moments, he leans down, flattening his front to my back, and kisses my shoulder, where he marked it with his teeth last night.

  “Next time, I want to see your beautiful face when you come,” he says softly before easing out of me. “Now I’m gonna go clean up and change, and then you can convince me if I should be team vampire or team wolfie, though I’m kind of leaning toward the sparkly people.”

  I knew I liked him for a reason.

  I somehow manage to resist the temptation to return to Mia’s room Tuesday night, but it’s not from a lack of desire. The woman’s got me so wound up; I’m not sure which way is up or down when I’m around her. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it. However, with Adam leaving soon, it’s silly for us to be careless and take the chance of getting caught, so I behave myself and take out my frustrations on my video games, killing as many people as I possibly can.

  Wednesday and Thursday pass with little excitement regarding relations with Mia or otherwise. Adam’s been at the house around the clock, so other than our usual interactions—eating meals and in passing—I haven’t been able to spend much time with her.

  Surprisingly, especially to me, I find myself wanting to just hang out with her, not necessarily having sex, even though that’s fucking incredible too. Since moving into the house, I’ve learned so much more about Mia, the beautiful, multi-layered woman, instead of Mia, Adam’s hot mom, and she’s a pretty cool chick.

  Sometimes when I get a glimpse of her around the house, it’s still hard for me to believe that we’re fucking, that she would even give a cocky little shit like me the time of day when she’s got rich, pretty boys who own art galleries, like Jonathan Evans, pursuing her. I won’t even pretend to understand it, but I’ll sure as hell take it for as long as she’ll give it to me.

  Friday morning starts off promising when Adam announces he’s going to a concert that night in Atlanta with Sierra. At first, he appears to be a little nervous to tell me he’s going, so when I ask him why, he admits Kathryn is going with them, but bringing her ex-boyfriend, and he feels bad about not inviting me.

  After I finish laughing for several minutes straight, I assure him multiple times it’s not a big deal. Then, for some strange reason, I confess to him that although she and I got along well, we never slept together during the camping trip, claiming that neither of us was feeling it, but we didn’t want to ruin our friends’ fun. He seems more relived I’m not upset about the concert than caring I misled him, so I let it be.

  Thinking I’m finally going to have some alone time with Mia at the house, I’m more than disappointed when my mom—yes, the mom who I haven’t heard from in weeks, since she kicked me out of my home—calls to let me know she wants
to have dinner tonight so we can talk about what happened and clear the air.

  Truth is, the air I’m breathing in my world right now is clearer than a fucking ionic breeze, but being the respectful, mannerly son she raised me to be, I agree to meet her. After all, she is my mom, despite her recent questionable decisions and actions.

  The minute I walk into De Palma’s Italian Café and see Mark sitting at the table with my mom, my initial reaction is to turn around and high-tail it out of there. She never mentioned he would be joining us, which I’m sure wasn’t simply an oversight, and now I feel I’ve been tricked into this farce of a make-up dinner.

  And I’m pissed.

  “Hey, Mom,” I say curtly as I stalk up to the table. “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?”

  “Grayson, son, please sit down, and don’t be rude to Mark,” she warns, narrowing her deep-set eyes at me. “He’s here so we can all talk about what happened and move past it.”

  I plop down in the wooden chair and glance over at Mark, who’s got a death-grip on his glass of wine, refusing to make eye-contact with me. Fucking pussy.

  The server approaches the table to get my drink and everyone’s food order, but I refuse anything, ‘cause I’m not staying long. They can say whatever they need to say and I’m out. I’ve got no desire to sit around and pretend I’m good with any of this.

  “All right, I’m here. Talk,” I bite out bitterly.

  “Is that the person you’ve become since staying over there with her?” my mom asks, turning her nose up in the air as if she smells something foul. “I don’t even recognize who you are anymore.”

  “I’m sure she’s constantly feeding him with all kinds of bullshit, just like I told you she would,” Mark chimes in, as if anyone asked for his damn opinion. Jackass still won’t make eye-contact with me. “This whole thing is a waste of time.”

  Clenching my jaw tightly, I take several deep breaths before I speak in a low volume so I don’t provide a show for the other patrons. Suddenly, it also makes sense why she insisted we do this at a restaurant and not at her house. She didn’t want me to make a scene.

  “Let me make this crystal clear for you. You don’t recognize me, because I moved to the other side of the world for a year and grew up. I no longer believe everything my mom says or does is the right thing,” I say to her in the most composed voice I can muster. “While I was gone, or even before I left, apparently, you decided to start sleeping with someone else’s husband—”

  “That’s not fair, Gray. You don’t know the full story,” she interrupts with the tired excuse.

  “All I need to know is he was married, Mom, and not just to anyone else…he was married to my best friend’s mom, for chrissake. You broke up their family,” I snap, judgment heavy in my voice, but I don’t give a flying fuck. “When I came home, I tried to be understanding about it, and I understand you were pissed about the party, but for you to kick your only son out of the house, the house I grew up in, after being married for less than twenty-four hours…you made the choice for your future right then and there.”

  My focus shifts to Mark as I snarl my lip up at his pompous ass. “I don’t even care about what happened the night of the party. I let that shit go that night, but to cheat on Mia, a woman who gave you her life, a woman who pushed aside her personal dreams and desires, all to make you happy,” I shake my head with disgust, “and then for you to just throw that away? To cheat on her for years before you were fucking man enough to fess up? You’re pathetic, and I’ll never respect you.”

  “Grayson Anthony,” my mom pounds her fists on the table, “that’s enough!”

  Pushing back my chair, I stand up and scowl down at both of them. “Mark was right about this being a waste of time. I never should’ve come, and I won’t do it again, but he was wrong about Mia feeding me bullshit. She’s got better things to do with her time than talk about either of you.”

  I’m smart enough to know that adding ‘like fucking me every chance she gets’ is a really bad idea right now, so without another word, I march directly out the front door and straight into the first bar I can find.

  My dear friend, Jack Daniels, is calling my name.

  WITH AN EMPTY HOUSE FOR the evening, I turn on Pandora and settle into my studio to start on a new project that’s been brewing in my head for the last couple of days. Something Jonathan said on Friday night actually sparked the idea, and with everything else that’s happened in the last couple of weeks, it’s only fitting for my next series of paintings, and possibly even the theme of my show, to be based around the lure of the forbidden.

  Each piece of art will continue to encompass my faceless figures in various erotic positions, but I want to push the envelope a little, delicately approach taboo subject matter such as ménages, homosexuality, and light bondage. In addition, to link the line together, I want to incorporate an apple in each painting, the ultimate symbol for temptation.

  If Jonathan approves of the concept, I envision the gallery to be decorated like the Garden of Eden, with lots of greenery, white and gold organza, and twinkling lights. And because the show isn’t for several months, I should be able to complete eight to ten pieces that can be highlighted. Just thinking about it gets me all excited.

  A couple of hours into it, I start to really hit my groove. Sam Smith is serenading me as my brain, fingers, and soul work as one to create an image on the canvas that I fall more in love with after each stroke. I foresee a long night ahead of me, but I’m invigorated; it’s been a while since I’ve felt this sort of inspiration, a rush of creative juices thrumming through me, itching to be released.

  Of course, that’s when my phone decides to ring.

  Groaning, I set the brush down and peer over at the screen, worry instantly flooding my mind when I see it’s Adam. Phone calls from your kid after eleven at night are rarely a good thing. My thoughts immediately lead to jail or hospital, but before I speculate anything worse, I pick it up and answer.

  “Honey, are you okay?” I say, not even bothering with a hello.

  “Hi, Mom, sorry to call so late,” he screams over the loud background noise. “I’m fine. We’re still at the concert, and I think we’re gonna grab a hotel room here so we don’t have to drive back this late.”

  I smile into the phone, my entire body sagging with relief. “Okay, no problem. I’d rather you be safe. I’ll see you tomorrow when you get home.”

  “Thanks, Mom, but I’ve got one more thing,” he adds. “I just talked to Gray, letting him know I wasn’t coming home, and he told me he was at the Smoking Moose. He sounded pretty trashed. I’m not sure who he’s with, but I’m worried about him getting home. Can you try to call him or something?”

  Suddenly tense again, I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger and sigh. “Sure thing. I’ll see if I can get him a cab or something. Don’t worry, hun. I love you.”

  “Okay, thanks. Love you too,” he replies before hanging up.

  Without wasting any time, I call Gray’s cell, but get his voicemail on the first ring. I wait a few minutes, then try again, only to get the same result. Typically, when a phone does that, it’s been turned off, and my level of concern is multiplying by the minute.

  Unsure of what to do, I pace the floor back and forth as I weigh my options, attempting to call every minute. Finally, fear that something could or has happened to him gets the better of me, so I decide to go to the bar to find him.

  Hastily, I rush upstairs to change out of my house clothes, throwing on the first pair of jean shorts I can find with an old UGA tank top and some flip-flops. My hair’s piled on top of my head in a messy bun, and I’ve got a little bit of makeup on from this morning, but my appearance is the last of my worries.

  I snag my phone, wallet, and keys from my nightstand and hurry out to the Tahoe. Once I’m safely inside, I realize I have no idea where the Smoking Moose is, so I pull it up on my phone, only to discover there are two locations in Athens. Damnit! Go
ing with the closest one first, I back out of the driveway and take off toward downtown, praying wherever he is, he’s safe.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m parking the car and walking into the packed tavern, second-guessing this bright plan of mine. There are so many people crammed in the bar even if he is here, it’ll be a miracle if I find him.

  On full alert, my eyes sweep the area as I make my way to the back of the room, slithering through the pulsing throng of mostly college-aged kids. I’ve almost made it to the end of the bar, discouragement setting in, when I see him emerge from the hallway marked with a ‘Restrooms’ sign, making his way back to a group of people, none of whom I recognize.

  Even in his inebriated state, which is evident by his lopsided smile and droopy lids, Gray is a sight to behold. He takes tall, dark, and handsome to a whole other level, and as I watch him make his way through the crowd, it’s obvious every other female in the place takes note too. Flashing them all a charming smile that would make a nun drop her panties, he doesn’t stop to talk to anyone, despite several attempts to get his attention, which for some stupid reason makes me feel all good inside.

  Uncertain on how I should handle the situation now that I’ve found him, I freeze in place. I don’t want to approach him if he’s here with a group of friends. I can only imagine how embarrassing that would be.

  And although he doesn’t appear to be smashed-face drunk, there’s a good chance he probably doesn’t need to be driving. I can’t very well wait for him out at his truck; the place doesn’t close for another couple of hours. And what if he has someone with him?

  Shit! Shit! Shit! Think, Mia.

  Spinning around so I’m not facing him, while I ponder any other possible options, I feel someone come up behind me, pressing their body against my back. I assume it’s just someone trying to weave their way through, so I take a small step forward, only to have them shadow me.