MILF: Wrong Kind of Love Page 6

  “Thanks again, dude,” I say as I slide out of the passenger seat. Before closing the door, I stop and turn around to face him, feeling the need to clear the air. “Hey, man, are you okay with all this? You’ve been really quiet since last night, and if you don’t want me staying at your house, it’s cool. I’m sure Jess would let me crash a while until I figure things out.”

  “Nah, man. It’s more than cool. I’ve just been really worried about Mom. This year has been hell for her, and I hope after last night she can really move on now.” He throws a friendly smile. “You’re always welcome at my place, though. You know that.”

  “Cool. Well, I’m gonna grab my stuff here, then I need to run some errands. I’ll see you back there later this afternoon.” I return the smile and tap the top of the truck before closing the door.

  Adam pulls out of the drive and I hurriedly grab what I need out of the house—my XBOX, some more clothes, and my phone, which I somehow left in the middle of all of the commotion last night. As expected, I’ve got four missed calls and twenty-two text messages from Jess, all asking if I was okay and what happened with Mark after she left. The last one was from a little after one in the morning, so I guess she must have passed out then or gave up trying. I am surprised, however, that it’s after noon today and she hasn’t tried to contact me.

  Removing the house key from my keychain, I leave it in the middle of the kitchen table for my mom and Mark to find when they return. Assuming this is the last time I’ll step foot in this house again, I take one final look around and swallow hard.

  Unfortunately, of all the great memories I made here with my mom, the one of her telling me to pack my stuff last night will be the last one I associate with the place. That’s the thing about words; once you speak them, you can’t ever take them back, whether you meant them or not. They were said, and that’s that.

  I turn off the lights and close the door behind me, then pull my truck out of the garage and take off down the street without looking back. Not even once.

  The minute I turn off of the street, my phone rings and it’s Jess, almost as if she knew I just got my phone back.

  “Hello,” I answer a bit suspiciously.

  “Hey, baby,” she chirps happily. “Are you doing better today? What a nightmare that was last night, huh?”

  “Yeah, I’ve definitely had better,” I mumble.

  “So what are your plans today? You want to hang out when I get off work?”

  I glance down at my phone and realize it’s a Monday, forgetting most people would be at work today. “Yeah, that sounds good. We can grab a bite to eat or something, but I want to keep it pretty low-key. What time do you get off?” I ask as I pull into the barber shop.

  “I should be home a little before six, and we can just order delivery or something. I’m down for whatever as long as we’re together. I feel as if I’ve hardly seen you since you got back.”

  And she’s back to the whining. “Been kinda busy, Jess,” I reply, ready to end the call. “I’ll be there tonight around six. Okay?”

  “Okay, sounds good. I gotta get back in the office anyway; my lunch hour is just about over. I love you, baby.”

  I pause before saying, “You too,” and then I disconnect the call.

  For a brief moment, I sit inside my truck, pondering the last six words of that conversation. Jess and I have been dating for a couple of years now, and to be honest, I’m not sure when we started saying we loved each other, but I know she most definitely said it first. I’ve never given it much thought. It always felt like the right thing to say, but now, I’m not sure.

  Ten months away from a person is a long time, especially when you’re in your early twenties. I’m not sure what exactly changed while I was gone, but I know something definitely did. Now that I’m back at home, I’m not so sure the life I was living before I left is the one I want to continue living. I’m just not sure what it is I want, or how to go about figuring it out.

  The afternoon proves to be quite productive for me. After getting a much needed haircut, I get the oil changed in my truck, make an appointment to meet with my advisor on Thursday, and reinstate my membership at the gym on campus, all before heading back to Adam’s house to shower and freshen up to meet Jess.

  I feel a little weird just walking into the house, even though it’s where I officially live now, so I knock on the door, praying either Mia or Adam is home. Thankfully, Mia is, and she laughs softly when she opens the door and sees me standing on the front porch holding my gaming console and last duffel bag of clothes, probably looking a lot like a little kid arriving for a sleepover.

  I don’t know why, but this bothers me. I’m a twenty-one year old man now, and I could kick myself for not simply entering through the backdoor, which I know they keep unlocked most of the time.

  “Hey, Gray,” she welcomes me, with her usual friendly smile. “Can I help you carry some of that? Is there more in the truck?”

  “No, I’ve got it. This is the last of it. Thanks though,” I reply as I scoot past her in the doorway, making my way directly to the staircase.

  “Adam got called in for a job interview a little bit ago, but he should be home later,” she calls out after me. “Will you be here for dinner?”

  “No, I’m going to hang out at Jess’ for a while. I’ll probably eat over there.”

  “Okay, sounds good.”

  It only takes me a few minutes to unpack what I’ve brought, and then peering over at the clock, I realize I need to jump in the shower if I’m going to make it to Jess’ on time. Not even thinking about it, I forget to bring any clothes with me, so once I’ve finished in the bathroom, I step out into the upstairs hallway with just a towel around my waist.

  Of course, as I’m making the mad dash from the bathroom to my room, Mia emerges from her bedroom, sporting those damn spandex workout clothes again. As soon as she sees me, she stops dead in her tracks, and much like I’m doing to her, her eyes skim up and down my body, most definitely noticing the lack of clothing I’m wearing.

  “Oh, uh, s-sorry,” she stammers, her cheeks glowing pink. “I was just headed to the gym, and I meant to tell you I had a house key made so you can come and,” her eyes betray her and fall back down below my neck, “um, go as you please.”

  I tighten my grip on the towel, which my thickening cock is pressing against. I know if she dares drop her line of sight that low, she’ll know exactly what I’m thinking about right now. And that excites me even more.

  “Didn’t you already go to the gym this morning?” I blurt out.

  She glances down at her own body, I guess reminding herself of what she’s wearing, then crosses her arms over her sports bra, attempting to cover her hard nipples straining against the purple Lycra top.

  “Yeah, sometimes I go in the morning and at night,” she says in a hushed voice, like it’s a confession.

  “Well, keep it up. You’re looking great.” I don’t know why I just said that, other than I truly mean it, and for some reason, I’m enjoying the fact I’m making her feel slightly uncomfortable.

  “Thank you, Gray.” She smiles sheepishly, keeping her eyes on the floor...the wall...anywhere but me as the flush travels down from her face, leaving her neck and chest splotchy.

  I can’t help but wonder how that soft, creamy skin would taste against my lips, but before my imagination can elaborate any further, she scampers past me and makes a beeline to the stairs, finding her escape.

  “The key’s on the bar! See ya later!” she hollers before disappearing out the front door.

  I’m not sure how long I stand there wondering what just happened between the two of us, but I know I wasn’t the only one feeling the attraction.

  The first time I saw her a couple of mornings ago, I chalked my response to her up to exhaustion and jet lag. Last night, I thought the emotional distress of everything that had happened with my mom and Mark had screwed with me.

  But right now, I’m plenty rested and I’ve made m
y decision to not dwell on things I can’t control with my mom—I’m a grown man and it’s time to make my own life. So the only explanation I have for my current state of extreme arousal is I want Mia Sullivan.

  The thought both excites and scares the shit out of me.

  Though she doesn’t look it, she’s almost twice my age. I know she had Adam at a pretty young age, so I think she’s about thirty-seven or thirty-eight, which truly doesn’t bother me at all.

  The fact she’s my best friend’s mom and my new asshole stepdad’s ex-wife are a little more concerning, though the latter makes her even more appealing, if I’m being completely honest.

  Oh, and there’s the whole girlfriend thing I’ve got going on...which I’m now going to be late in meeting, because I’m actually standing here contemplating seducing the MILF I’m currently living with.

  Well, doesn’t that sound like a whole lot of fucked-up-ness?

  As I hurry to my room to change, I think to myself to not make any rash decisions. If I seriously pursue this, pursue her, a lot of backlash could be added to my already-too-dramatic life at the moment. Maybe I’m just a horny bastard who needs to get laid, and once that happens, my desire for her will diminish. Hopefully that’s it.

  On my drive to Jess’ apartment, I convince myself I’ve lost my mind, and although I don’t really care much about my relationship with Jess, I can’t risk losing Adam. He’s been the one person who has stuck with me through everything in my life, and something tells me he wouldn’t be too keen on me screwing his mom, even though his dad is fucking mine.

  But lo and behold, later in the evening, as I’m thrusting my dick in between Jess’ legs, I subconsciously find myself imagining Mia’s face, pretending it’s her sweet pussy I’m buried inside, and wishing it were her moaning my name. No matter how hard I try to focus on my girlfriend, it’s her I see and hear.

  God, I’m so fucked.

  OVER THE PAST SEVERAL DAYS I’ve felt like a completely different person. Ever since I punched Celeste in the face Sunday night, it’s as if I freed myself of this huge burden of responsibility for my failed marriage I’d been undeservingly carrying around with me.

  Almost immediately, I began to view everything in a new light. Life, in general, has become much clearer, and the fact of the matter is this is my life and I am the person in control of making sure it’s a happy one. I get to make all of my own decisions, and it is up to me to go after the things I want.

  And I want to paint.

  After hiding my paintings for a long, long time, I’m finally ready to bring them out of my studio and allow someone other than Stella and Adam to view them, scrutinize them, and to give me honest feedback. This is why I’ve spent the last several evenings emailing numerous curators and gallery directors around the Atlanta area, sending samples of my work and inquiring on how I go about getting included in a small show.

  Based on what some other local artists I’ve met via the internet have told me, I wasn’t expecting to hear anything back for a while, if at all…especially on my first set of queries. So when I woke up Thursday morning to not one, but two emails showing interest, I was on cloud nine. I immediately made appointments to meet with them as soon as possible.

  All of this leads me to today, Friday, the day I’m scheduled to meet with Jonathan Evans, the director at the Maxwell Evans Gallery, which is often referred to as MEG in the Atlanta artist community. MEG is a highly-regarded, downtown gallery often known for their unconventional, sometimes downright bizarre, but always tasteful events. And tonight, I’m going to experience one of these exclusive showings myself for the first time.

  In order to meet and for me to see the gallery firsthand, Mr. Evans invited me and a guest to attend Big Top, a showcase of Sheena Van Wyk, an up-and-coming watercolorist from Florida. Naturally, I asked Stella to go with me, and even though she was scheduled to work at the Lynx, she let them know she wouldn’t be at work in order to be there to support me…something Mark would’ve never even thought about doing, for any reason.

  Unfortunately for her, she’s also agreed to go dress shopping with me, which is proving to be a task in itself. The patience she has with me as I drag her into the sixth boutique of the day deserves some kind of award.

  “Are you sure you like this one better than the last?” I ask as I slowly rotate around in the fitting room, staring at all sides of my reflection in the floor-length, three-sided mirror.

  Stella nods emphatically as she jumps up from the chair she’s been waiting in and joins me with a huge smile on her face. “You, my dear sister, look to-die-for in this dress. I know you wanted black, but the blue is perfect. It’ll not only be memorable and stand out from the crowd, but it makes your eyes pop like wowza.”

  “Like wowza, huh?” I giggle, bulging my already-big blue eyes out in a funny face.

  She rolls her eyes and chuckles. “Promise me you won’t make that face at any point tonight, and buy the damn dress. It’s stunning.”

  I do a final spin in the mirror, and I know she’s right. This is the one.

  The sleeveless, icy blue cocktail dress fits me perfectly. A hint of silver shimmer in the chiffon overlay exudes elegance and sophistication, while the teardrop cut out on the chest and the backless feature is stylishly suggestive. With all of the long hours and hard work I’ve been putting in at the gym, I can finally see the results and feel something I haven’t in a long time…sexy.

  Stella arrives to pick me up at exactly six-thirty, and as always, she looks gorgeous wearing a simple, floor-length black dress with a deep plunging neckline that shows the perfect amount of cleavage. Her short hair, which is bright cherry red tonight, appears to be flawlessly styled into a flipped-up bob, and the multiple tattoos all over her body are proudly on display. She reminds me of a vintage 1940’s pinup girl with her natural beauty and voluptuous body.

  Where I used to feel a twinge of jealousy when around my sister, tonight I know I look damn good too, and there’s no one else I’d rather have by my side as I venture out into this new and exciting world.

  Before she and I leave, I stick my head into Adam’s room, where he and Gray are playing video games, and say goodbye.

  “Hey, you two,” I tap on the open door, “we’re heading out and should probably be home around twelve.”

  “No, we won’t. I’m keeping her out late looking like this,” Stella jokes from behind me. “She thinks she’s going to turn into a pumpkin or something at midnight.”

  Adam presses a button on his controller and the action on the TV freezes, and then they both swivel their necks to look over at us. “Wow, Mom, y’all both look great,” he says with a bright smile. “I’m so proud of you for doing this.”

  With his dark eyes perusing up and down my body, Gray clears his throat and adds, “He’s right, Mia. You look incredible. I hope it goes well.”

  As our gazes lock on each other, the image of him in his towel sweeps through my head, and I feel myself tense up. I’ve tried my hardest not to run into him over the last few days, seeing every time I do I end up with the most ridiculous, impure thoughts about him, and the last thing I want is for him to be uncomfortable here. I seriously don’t know what my problem is, but even right now, the way he’s staring at me makes me tingle from head to toe.

  “Are y’all staying here tonight?” I ask, forcing myself to look away.

  “This is the extent of our Friday night, Mom,” Adam replies with his attention already back on the game, but I can still feel Gray’s eyes on me. “Jess and her roommate may stop by later, but I’m not sure.”

  “’Kay, sounds good.”

  And with that, we’re out the door.

  We haven’t been in the car more than two minutes, not even out of my neighborhood yet, and Stella begins her questioning.

  “You want to tell me what that was all about?” she asks, arching her thin brow for effect.

  “What are you talking about?” I pretend to have no idea, even though I know she p
icked up on it.

  Never one to beat around the bush, she throws me a wicked smile and says, “Why Grayson Daniels looked at you like he wanted to bend you over, yank that dress up around your waist, and fuck you until you’re screaming his name, and why you looked like you wanted him to.”

  “Stella!” I slap her arm harder than I mean to, causing her to swerve slightly into the next lane.

  “Hey, careful there, Wonder Woman. I’m driving here. You almost made us wreck,” she reprimands me, even though she’s still got that teasing smirk on her face. “Maybe you should spend less time at the gym and more time masturbating to relieve yourself of all of this frustration.”

  “Oh my God.” I drop my head into my hands with sheer embarrassment. The woman has no filter.

  “You do masturbate, right, Mia? Please tell me you haven’t been without an orgasm since Mark left.”

  When I don’t answer immediately, she adds, “Maybe you should let him fuck you; he’s really hot. If not him, someone else. Soon.”

  “I do not want my son’s best friend or anyone else to fuck me, nor am I discussing my masturbation schedule with you. Have you lost your mind?”

  She pounds her hand with exasperation on the steering wheel as we fly down the highway toward Atlanta. “No, I haven’t lost my mind, because I get laid on a regular basis, and when I hit a little dry spell, I’m not too proud to take matters into my own hands. Literally.” Glancing over at me, she shoots me a look of disappointment. “You, on the other hand, think that because some dumb-fuck—who took you for granted for way too long, I might add—left, that you should let your perfectly good pussy, which has lots of years of action left in it, shrivel up and die!”

  “My pussy isn’t shriveled up!” I screech.

  “How do you know? When’s the last time you used it?” she fires back.

  I can’t answer her, because the answer pisses me off and I know she’s right. Angry tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to cry. Not for him. Not tonight. Not ever again.