Şubat 1, 2024

A Rose For Celia

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 Roses are redBut fade when they’re plucked.Asses are heart-shapedAnd this girl’s is… It was the Valentine Celia hadn’t dared dream would happen. As she wrapped herself in red and applied crimson lip gloss, she recalled his welcome in Java Moment only two days prior. His face’s warmth had made her heart sing an aria. What contrast to its gloom one year earlier.“Sorry. It’s just bad timing.”Those words had rendered everything bleak, a feeling compounded by Celia’s secret. As his divorce proceedings grew more bitter, communication fizzled. Her birthday text to him elicited a brusque Thanks. Bad timing indeed, she decided, resolving to move on.And then, as from a pale February sky, the phone-call. “Celia…” That rich baritone, recognisable from three warm syllables.“Mac?”“The same. Free to talk?”“Always,” she responded, disregarding her current relationship status.Friendship was renewed over coffee, whereupon he asked, “Fancy that Valentine’s date we never had?”Crap–Dylan already had somewhere planned! “Isn’t everywhere booked up?”“No booking required. I’m manager, head chef, and server. You’ve eaten there before.”And been eaten. What luxurious erotic nights she’d enjoyed, marred only by her guilty agenda. God, if he’d known…Celia dispelled that brooding thought. “True. It’s Michelin starred.” Mac’s smile almost made her swoon. Mentally she ditched Dylan. “I’d like that,” she answered. “Very much.”“Good. It’s time you got the Valentine you deserve.”She brushed out her golden-brown tresses, observing her reflection and wondering how her trademark innocence could belie last year’s deceit, or cause heartache like yesterday’s break-up. To dump a guy on February 13th… Poor, sweet Dylan. The card he’d sent pre-bombshell languished unopened. But six weeks of dating an earnest boy couldn’t compete with Celia’s man-sized crush on Mackenzie Lewis.“Follow your heart.” gerçek porno It was advice from an unlikely source. Self-styled bitch boss Miranda French wasn’t given to romantic sentiment, and the identity of her recurring temp’s coffee date–extracted from Celia by that near preternatural stare–made the encouragement more surprising still.“But…” the mortified secretary had stammered.“He’s my ex-husband?”“Well… yes.”“Ancient history. Consigned to my past.”“Okay, but…”“Why recommend him after all the bad blood?”“Mmhmm.”“Fair question, Celia. Look–divorce summons no one’s better angels. Plus, as pairings go, Mac and I were a Molotov cocktail–destined to explode. Nonetheless, I somehow still care for him. Enough to wish him good things.” The intimidatingly glamorous woman perched on Celia’s desk, capturing her hand. “And you’re exactly what he needs.”Celia got teary at the red-haired beauty’s magnanimity.“I couldn’t be happier,” Miranda said with unimpeachable sincerity. “Here’s wishing you an unforgettable Valentine’s night–something I’m guessing Mac will supply.”Staring into her vanity mirror, Celia reddened again, recalling Miranda’s follow-up counsel. “Keep the dress demure and the lingerie scandalous.”“Check, and check.” Celia’s reflection returned her smile. She took her purse, abandoning worries over jilted exes, and started out towards her dreamy loved-up destiny.~~~~“Buzzing you in.” The words conjured conflicting emotions. By the time Celia had negotiated her way to his door, her breath was shallow from more than carnal excitement.He opened to her, towering colossus-like in the doorframe, breadth of chest complimenting his height. This was her Mac–smiling in polo and slacks, and more chiselled than ever. Physically one beast of a male, but all easy charm. He proffered a single long-stemmed bloom.“A rose for a rose. gay porno Both thorn-free.” Bending, he pressed lips to her flushing cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.”“Oh my.” Celia shuddered deliciously. “That’s quite the greeting.”“It’s what sweetness deserves.” He drew her close, fingers light on her back. “Speaking of which…”His mouth’s caress melted her insides like chocolate. Such tenderness was almost unbearable. “God,” she moaned, “I can’t believe I’m back here.”“Why don’t I take this,” he said, easing off her coat, “pour us both a Malbec, and set about convincing you?”Because I don’t deserve it, she reflected. “That sounds lovely,” she said.“Good,” he replied. “Let’s go relax.”Relaxation proved easier than expected, given Celia’s conscience qualms. Surrounded by the cultivated trappings of this man twelve years her senior, she felt elevated in sophistication–the woman she never could have been with besotted Dylan. Lazing together on Mac’s sofa, they re-established their rapport, glasses clinking between sips. John Legend soothed on the stereo and February’s chill was banished by warmth, not least that emanating from Celia’s unexpected beau. Their lips were brushing when he paused for dinner.He plied her over a candle-lit dining-table. Avocado and walnut salad, followed by onglet steaks served with red wine shallots, her glass ever topped up. Could a host be more attentive, a chef more skilled?“At the risk of cliché,” he said, dabbing his lips, “let’s save dessert for later.”Celia’s liquification accelerated. “Good idea.” She squirmed with anticipation, flashing back to when she’d last felt and touched and tasted him.On return to the sofa Mac’s grip was strong yet restrained. Celia’s body melted into his, her skin prickling gorgeously as he tongued her mouth. His desire asserted itself, that subterranean swell evli porno rapidly achieving magnificence. The merest brush of her hand confirmed his hardness. Summoning courage, she teased his belt buckle.“Not yet.”Celia paused, frozen in hard-nippled suspense.“I have a confession,” he said.“You do?”“Mmhmm. Nothing terrible. Still…”Eyes widening, she invited his confidence.“I was angry last year,” Mac said. “Mostly at Miranda, but–well–at everything. She pulled every stunt possible to gain advantage in the divorce. Then I discovered she’d accessed this apartment to search for more. Someone had slipped her the security codes and helped provide a key copy–a smartphone app would have done the latter. Frankly, I suspected every visitor, you included. Hence my lack of communication. The paranoia dissipated post-divorce, thank Christ. But you, sweetheart, never deserved my suspicion.”Celia’s eyes dropped mid-speech, the blood in her veins converting to ice-water. Her heart was racing for all new reasons. At ‘sweetheart’ her eyes pricked with tears, and she dared not meet his gaze. Mac raised her chin, and she stared blurrily into his earnest face.“So, am I forgiven?”This was her moment–for confession, truth… maybe redemption. She searched for strength to tell him and found herself wanting. It wasn’t like she had to, right? He didn’t ever need to know. Celia blinked away the tears and rallied her warmest smile. “Yes, love. Of course you’re forgiven.”The words departed Celia’s mouth, and everything changed.The alteration in Mac’s demeanour was subtle but profound. Before Celia’s eyes all kindness evaporated, like it had been illusory. What remained was stone.“There she is,” he said, in calm vindication. “Same little liar.”“Wh…” Celia faltered, her mind and emotions reeling.“Miranda’s spy. Same little faker who helped fuck me over.”“I…” Celia groped for a defence but floundered under Mac’s unflinching stare. He knew–the ‘how’ of it didn’t matter–and he saw too that she recognised the fact. Denial was pointless. Dream date had transformed wholesale into nightmare. Tears welled properly now, spilling down her cheeks. “I’m… sorry.”

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