Chapter 9: Chapter 9
I wrap my arms around his neck and jump. I'm a sex vixen. I'm fifty shades of grey, but I've flipped the roles. I'm the predator and he's the prey. I'm the red hot mama in charge, and he's going to submit.
I'm also heavier than I look, and he's caught off guard. He stumbles backward, swinging his grocery bag to try and catch his balance. But there's this momentum thing happening, and we just keep going.
Ah, physics. You're a horrible bitch.
We do a little dance: Stumble backward. Stumble backward. Teeter. Totter. Stumble backward. Stumble backward. Teeter. Totter.
But then the stumble backward crashes into the teeter totter, and we hit the boat's railing with surprising force and go right overboard.
Do you ever have dates like this?
We hit the water with a loud splash. We've fallen three stories, after all. Higher than Greg Louganis. And we land-the both of us-flat on Mack's back.
We sink deep into the water, but I'm a good swimmer. I dislodge myself from Mack's neck and kick my way up to the surface, accidentally knocking my foot against his groin. I think I hear him scream, but it's underwater and the sound is muffled.
I make it to the top and gasp for air. It takes Mack significantly longer to come up from the deep, and I'm almost ready to dive down to find him when he breaks the surface.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
He puts a finger up in the air in the international gesture for "wait a minute."
"You're blue," I note.
He puts his finger up again.
"I don't think you're breathing," I say.
He shakes his head.
"Do you need CPR?"
He shakes his head, again.
"That's good because I don't actually know CPR, but you're awfully blue. Should I pound on your chest?"
He furrows his brow. "I'm fine," he gasps, finally. "My testicles are tucked away next to my appendix now, but I'm fine."
I feel guilty about kicking him. I hope the damage isn't permanent. I was planning on using that part of his anatomy.
"At least the fall wasn't too bad," I say, trying to look on the bright side.
"Thankfully, something broke your fall."
"Yes... Oh," I say remembering that he broke my fall. "Well, I guess we should get back on board."
I climb the ladder without looking back. I've sort of ruined the mood. Will we go back to being friends or has emasculating him with my super-strong leg put pie and his easygoing attitude toward my rent in jeopardy?
I step onto the lowest deck. I'm soaked through, and Raine's sweatpants now weigh a ton. Mack climbs up after me, and I'm relieved to see he's no longer blue. "Do you have a bathroom?" I ask.
He takes my hand and shows me to a very nice bedroom. There's a king-sized bed with a blue and white comforter. The walls are paneled in wood, and the floor is wood, also. We're dripping all over it.
"Nice," I say. The room is decorated entirely in bachelor chic, but it's nice and tidy. And new.
At first, I don't notice that Mack is stripping off his shirt. He tosses it into the corner of the room and unbuttons his pants. He's got muscles everywhere. Since he's always in his diner, I can only imagine his muscles are genetic. Like his blue eyes. "You probably have no problem with jar lids," I say, staring at his biceps.
"The bathroom's in there," he says, pointing to a door.
I nod, but I'm rooted to the spot. I'm not moving, and I'm not blinking, for that matter. Mack kicks off his jeans, and then it's just his boxer briefs and his muscly everything.
And me.
The air grows thick with tension and anticipation. I swear I can hear his heart beating.
"You all right?" I ask, gesturing toward his manly parts.
"I don't know. Let's see if it still works."
He takes two steps forward and put his hands on the hem of my shirt and lifts it up. My arms follow, and he pulls my shirt over my head, throwing it onto the heap of his clothes. His fingers work their way under my elastic waistband and pull at my sweatpants until they fall to the floor.
I shut my eyes tight and take a few deep breaths.
"Meditating?" Mack asks.
"I'm trying to remain calm so I don't cause any more damage."
"You were pretty assertive before. Surprisingly strong for your size."
"Like King Kong, you mean," I say with my eyes still shut. I feel his breath on my neck. It's all I can do not to do a Gabby Douglas straddle jump all over him.
"Like King Kong," he agrees.
His hands slowly travel from my back-where he deftly unhooks my bra-to my front, where he cups my breasts in his large, hot hands. My head falls back, and my mouth drops open.
"This is going to happen," he says, sounding almost surprised. I gurgle in response. His hands have rendered me speechless. Tamed.
I have to hand it to him. Most men would have given up on our date after being almost drowned and having their balls kicked in. Not to mention everything else that's happened today. But Mack is more determined than most. Lesser men would have left well enough alone. But Mack is focused on getting the show on the road right to Broadway. And by "Broadway," I mean my vagina.
He lifts me in his arms, carrying me like a child, and places me gently on his bed. He strips off his boxers, quickly.
And there he is in all his glory.
Lots and lots of glory.
"Oh, my," I breathe.
He lies down on top of me, his body cradled between my legs. I'm still wearing my thong, and I struggle to remove it. But Mack is quicker than I am. He grabs some material and pulls, making it fall to pieces.
He holds his weight on his forearm and kisses me, his lips traveling lower until he's laving my nipple with his tongue. His hand's down between us, working to drive me crazy.
There is a time and a place for making love, but this ain't it. I'm ready to do the big nasty, and if I don't do it soon, I'm going to explode. My hand wraps around his manhood, and I guide him inside me.
Mack makes an inhuman noise, as we fit together perfectly. Pure arousal. "Holy hell," he says.
"Hell doesn't have anything to do with it." At least I hope it doesn't. I mean, I'm feeling pretty wicked.
With the foreplay out of the way-thank God-he begins to rock his hips. In. Out. In. Out. The nursery rhyme Home Again Home Again Jiggity Jig plays in my head. Mack inside me feels like home, like this is how it's supposed to be.
My knees lift to his hips, and I clutch the bars of the headboard above me. I'm hypnotized by his slow, steady rhythm, and my body meets him for every thrust. As his pace increases, faster and harder, I claw at his back, raking a trail from his butt to his shoulders.
Once again, Mack Ryan has got me right on the edge of ecstasy. In the back of my head I worry that some repairman or firefighter is going to burst into the room and blow this whole gig for me just as I'm about to have the biggest orgasm of my life, but my worries are unfounded. Nobody's coming but me. In a couple of minutes, my eyes roll back in my head and my body seizes in the miracle of the good old climax.
Mack is not far behind me. He collapses next to me, his breathing labored. "That's a relief," he says. "I was worried."
"Worried?"
"Well, we're sort of a disaster together, but it turns out not where it counts." He turns on his side and grabs my ass, pulling me close to him. "Where it counts, we're the Fourth of July."
"Christmas," I add.
"Ferris Bueller's Day Off."
"Ice cream birthday cake."
"TV marathon."
"Shoe sale."
"You," he says, effectively ending that part of the conversation. I touch the bridge of his nose. It's straight, like the rest of the planes and angles of his face. Like a Greek statue come to life.
He's uncommonly handsome. Striking. I can handle him being good-looking. I've been involved with several hunka hunka burnin' loves. But it's the romance that's got me frazzled. It's the way he's looking at me. If I'm not mistaken, he's got the love look.
It's either that or acid reflux, but I've been with him most of the day, and he hasn't eaten a thing.
"Me?" I ask. "As good as Ferris Bueller's Day Off?"
"Yep," he says. His voice is yummy and a dead ringer for Cary Grant's, minus the accent. "I guess I shouldn't have worried."
"Well, it's been rough going between us."
"That's behind us, now."
Gulp. Behind us means we're well on our way to our future. I'm not sure it's wise for me to be thinking about a future as a couple when I'm in the dark about what my future should be as a single.
"What if this thing doesn't work out beyond the whole mind-blowing sex part?" I ask.
"It will."
"What if it doesn't?"
"It will, but if it doesn't, we'll handle it."
"But who will I talk to if it doesn't?" My voice cracks, and my eyes burn with unshed tears.
"What do you mean?"
"I talk to you about-well-everything. If this doesn't work out, I won't have you to talk to, and I'll need to. Do you understand?"
It doesn't matter if he understands, because for the first time I understand. I understand that Mack is my best friend, the person I go to when I'm sad or happy, the person I run to when I want to share news about my life.
Maybe he's not the only one with the love look. Maybe I have the love look, too.
Maybe I've been a couple since the moment I walked into Mack's diner two years ago. Being a couple might just be how I figure myself out as a single.
Mack tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and kisses me ever so softly. There's so much in his kiss: Passion. Tenderness. Ownership. And there's something else... A promise.
I reciprocate, promising it all right back to him, and he accepts it with the trust that only a man in love can give.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone