Raw and Curvy by S.E. Law
5
Mimi
My heart is beating so hard in my chest I’m sure everyone in class can hear it. At least the mystery hottie I splattered on the face has turned to the models and is focusing on his work, so I can take a moment to try to collect myself. Carefully, I mix some colors together and dash my brush across the canvas, seeing nothing. Ugh. What a disaster!
Then my eyes land on the offending tube that I’ve since stashed in my bag. The one I squirted on Mason’s face, and OH MY GOD! It’s not paint! How in the hell did I end up with my favorite coconut lube mixed in with my art supplies? My mind whirls, trying to think things through.
I must have dropped it in the bag last night when I was cleaning off my bed after my sexy session. OMG, OMG. This can’t be happening. I glance at the man and sure enough, Mason’s smirking at me. The knowing smile on his face tells me exactly what I was afraid of. He saw what was written on the tube, and even worse, he knows what Cocoslick is, which means he’s fully aware of what I just nailed him with. Now, he wants to talk about it over coffee. Just let the ground swallow me whole, please.
How am I going to face this man over coffee? How am I going to get my brain to function when the whole situation is so embarrassing? Oh God. Should I pretend not to know what Cocoslick is, or pretend that it belongs to someone else? Even more, why is today the day I finally run into a gorgeous man, only to have this happen? The timing is so awful, and in more ways than one. I’m basically dressed like a hobo with my ripped jeans and baggy, paint-stained black tank top. And forget my hair. I didn’t even try running a comb or so much as my fingers through my unruly curls before I left. Instead, I threw it all on top of my head in a record-breaking world’s messiest hair bun. I didn’t even wear makeup, so my face is bare and I’m sure I look like a witch.
Once the instructor announces that class is over, I quickly stash my supplies in my bag, and when I turn to stand up, Mason’s right there with a smile, waiting for me.
“Are you ready?” he asks in an easy tone. “I saw a coffee shop on my way over,” he says. “It’s only a block away, so I thought we could walk there since it’s so nice outside.”
I know the coffee shop he’s talking about and it’s one of my favorites, so I nod. “Um, sure. That works for me,” I mumble.
He holds a palm out to me, and at first I think he’s trying to hold my hand. Wow, that’s soon. Mason must register the surprise on my face, because he grins and reaches over my shoulder to grab the strap of my bag. “Let me carry that for you.”
“Oh no.” I feel my cheeks heat again. “You don’t have to do that.”
He merely flashes that million-dollar smile again, making me go weak in the knees.
“I’m forcing you to walk to our first date. What kind of man would I be if I also made you carry your own bag?”
I’m too caught up on his use of the word “date” to argue, so I relinquish my knapsack and stroll behind him out of the classroom. Once out on the sidewalk, he grins at me again.
“Your painting was really good,” he remarks, as we make our way down the street to the coffee shop.
I blush. “Thanks, but it wasn’t really finished. I’ll have to go back and work on it more. Maybe I’ll take another stab at it once I get home.”
He nods.
“Is painting something you do a lot?”
I smile shyly. “Yeah, pretty much. I’ve always enjoyed painting. I started out finger painting as a kid, and I still do a lot of my paintings using my fingers, actually. I just feel like I have more control of what I’m creating when I’m literally hands on.”
The handsome man looks at me with a sly smile, those blue eyes humorous. “Good to know.”
Tree and Bird Coffee Shop comes into view, and as we approach the door, Mason steps forward and holds it open for me.
“Thanks,” I say as I walk in.
The place is nice, with dark oak furniture, a long counter, and friendly-looking baristas. But instead of going to the counter to order, the huge man starts walking towards a table in the far corner. Mason pulls out a chair and motions for me to take a seat before setting our bags on the floor.
“Sit down, sweetheart. I’ll get our order and bring it over.”
His words and tone are a mixture of sweet chivalry and command. Like he’s used to being in charge and getting what he wants. I’m not used to a man waiting on me, but decide to roll with it.
“I’ll take an iced mocha latte, if you don’t mind,” I murmur.
He nods. “Anything to eat?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
Then the handsome man strolls away, and I surreptitiously watch him depart. He’s tall and athletic, with broad shoulders that narrow to a vee, and long legs that eat up the floor with each stride. I spot a few other ladies checking him out and my cheeks flush. OMG, Mason’s with me.
When he comes back to the table, he puts our drinks down along with two huge cinnamon rolls and takes the seat across from me.
“They looked so good I thought we should try them,” he explains, nodding at the pastries. He’s right. The buns are warm, drizzled in fresh icing, and I can already smell the spice and cinnamon. Since I’ve been here before, I know how good their rolls are, and my mouth waters. Then again, these pastries are likely one of the contributing factors to my ten pound weight gain.
“Thanks,” I murmur, smiling even though I’m a little annoyed he brought me this delicious temptation.
Mason grins and takes a bite of his roll while I watch. “Oh, you’ve got to eat yours. It’s delicious,” he enthuses.
I laugh, pointing to the icing stuck to the side of his mouth. “I think I better save mine for later because it looks like it’s pretty messy. I’ve already had enough messes for one day.”
Mason wipes his mouth with a napkin, and then picks up the roll he bought and holds it up to my mouth with a devilish expression. “Just one bite. I don’t think you know what you’re missing, and I promise I’m not going to squirt this on you the way you squirted me earlier.”
I inhale deeply, and it smells too good to say no. Plus, my date is trying to feed me, and something about this handsome man wanting to serve me food from his hand makes me get goosebumps on my skin. I’m not sure I could tell him no right now if I wanted to. So I open my mouth and take a small bite. Mason’s eyes flash, and he growls, “Good girl.”
Then icing gets on my lip but before I can grab a napkin, the gorgeous man gently swipes his finger across my bottom lip, wiping it away. Never dropping his eyes from my own, he puts that finger in his mouth and licks off the sweet cream. My heart races as I stare at him. OMG, did he just do that because it was damn sexy!
“I enjoy finger painting, too,” he remarks like nothing’s wrong, and for a minute I’m completely lost, but after the fog lifts, I remember the train of our conversation.
“Um, sure,” I mutter hoarsely, my cheeks flaming. “Hands-on is best.” I take a big swallow of my iced latte to try to cool myself off. There was so much innuendo in that statement, that my brain is about to burst. What is going on? I’m used to clumsy flirtations from juvenile boys, but this man is playing on a different level.
Trying to hide my nervousness, I smile and ask, “Do you live around here? I haven’t seen you at an OnDemand class before.”
He shakes his head dolefully.
“No,” he says. “I’m just in Atlantic City on business.”
I cock my head with confusion. “Really? But you were free in the middle of the day to attend an art class? That seems strange.” I raise my eyebrow in question.
He laughs. “You got me there. I came to Atlantic City for a business conference, but it was so boring I swear I could feel my hair turning gray. So I had to get out of there.”
Taking in his gorgeous head of jet black hair, I giggle a bit. “It would be a shame for you to be bored into premature white hair.”
“See?” he says, laughing. “I knew you’d understand.”
I giggle again while taking another sip from my latte. “You thought so, huh? But you don’t even know me!”
At that, his blue eyes flash as he leans close.
“True, but something told me that a girl who carries anal lube around in her art bag might understand how frustrating it would be to be that bored.”
My jaw drops and I have to force my mouth shut. “Oh that. So you knew.”
He leans back, his smile widening. “Not many paints come with a coconut smell. Besides, I saw the name on the tube you were holding, and let’s be honest: Cocoslick has that especially thick consistency that’s good for anal love. Is that what you enjoy, honey?” he asks, quirking a black brow.
Heat. All I can feel is burning heat rising up my neck to my face, consuming everything in its wake. I’m sure I’m as red as a tomato right now. I try to bury my face in my hands, but Mason gently pulls my palms away from my cheeks. “But what I’m really curious about,” he says, “is what you were doing with anal lube in your art supply bag? Why would you bring it to class? Using it is no big deal, sweetheart. In fact, I love a girl who engages in back door play, but why was it with your paints?”
I stammer, unable to speak for a moment before the words come rushing out.
“Oh my god. I… well, obviously, I thought I’d grabbed a tube of paint.”
Mason sits back and laughs, and even as embarrassed as I am, I can’t help but notice how the way his eyes crinkle just a little at the corners, making him even more handsome.
“And what do you use it for?” he asks.
A million things go through my mind. Cooking. Greasing elbows. Grouting my bathroom tiles. But I can’t manage to get out anything but the truth.
“Um, basically what you just said. I was enjoying myself last night and it … well, I must have misplaced it after my personal session.”
With that, Mason leans over the table, takes my face between two big hands, and kisses me. I suck in a deep breath, my eyes widening at the shock, but then the feeling of his mouth pressed to mine begins to warm my skin in a whole new way, I close my eyes and kiss him back. He’s incredible, and his mouth is hot and insistent on my own.
When he pulls back, my eyes automatically drop to his mouth, and when his tongue darts out slightly, licking his lower lip, I bite mine to hold back the low moan I feel creeping up my chest. I force myself to move my eyes up to meet his gaze, and I swear his eyes have changed colors. Before they were bright like a sapphire in the sunlight, and now they’re dark like the deep navy depths of the ocean.
“You’re a breath of fresh air, you know that, Mimi?” he smiles, and I can’t help but notice his voice sounds an octave deeper than before he kissed me. “You are completely unexpected, and that’s new for me. I’m not usually intrigued by women I meet randomly, but you’re definitely something else.”
I push a stray hair behind my ear and smile shyly. “Is that good or bad?”
He lets out a low chuckle, blue eyes glinting in the low lights.
“Believe me, it’s good. And I’d love to get to know you better, sweetheart. I love your fresh, open honesty and the fact that you admitted you use Cocoslick for your own personal pleasure.”
My face is probably the color of a fire hydrant now, but I smile shyly.
“Yes, I do.”
Mason nods, his expression suddenly fierce.
“I’ve got a suite at the Wilshire Hotel. Will you come back to my suite with me? I’d love to spend more time getting to know you, sweetheart. I know this is sudden, but I’m not ready for this date to end.”
How did an art class to get me out of my sad, depressed state after being fired lead to this handsome man asking me back to his hotel room? And a suite at the Wilshire to boot? Wow, that’s not cheap, so whatever business Mason’s in, he must be pretty successful. I bring my fingers to my lips, and I swear it’s like I can still feel his lips pressed to mine. Suddenly, I realize that I’m not ready to walk away from his kiss either. So even though this is totally out of character, I smile and nod shyly.
“Yes, Mr. Carlisle. I’ll go with you. Take me to the Wilshire.”