My Favorite Mistake

Chapter 2 Episode 2

wrong to want happiness when it can be so fleeting? It can dissolve like cotton candy under a sprinkle of water. You would think I should know better than to seek it out. It makes more sense to study in a field that’s always going to be in demand and get a stable job with a good company—my father’s mantra for as long as I can remember. “Happiness comes after the basics are met and then some. It comes from security.” I can practically hear his deep, robust voice in my ear. I’ve got a boyfriend who has a job. A degree and a job of my own lined up, and yet I don’t want it. None of it. Don’t ask me what I actually want because I have no idea. There’s no concrete image in my mind. Whenever I imagine what my happiness would be, only one word comes to mind: passion . Living a life that leaves me eager to get out of bed in the morning. For new experiences, new places, and new people. But who knows? If I had that, I might crave a mundane life as an economist with a boyfriend who likes s*x a few times a week and a favorite Chinese takeout joint at the end of the block. Maybe some people aren’t wired for passion and excitement. They only think they are because it’s something they’ve never experienced. I wish I could believe that was the case for me. I can’t shake the sense of there being something bigger and better out there, yet it’s still out of reach. The kitchen is dark once I reach it, but the patio lights that shine through the sliding glass door leading outside cast enough of a glow that I’m able to navigate my way to the fridge. There isn’t any sign of Callum, and I almost frown at the thought. Get a grip . He doesn’t even know I exist beyond being Tatum’s best friend. Pulling the fridge door open, I find it stocked with an assortment of veggies and fruit. I forget the idea of tea when my eyes land on a pre-made yogurt smoothie, and while I’d rather have something gross and greasy to fit my mood, I grab a bottle before perching on a stool at the island in the center of the room. The house, if you could call it that, is beautifully decorated in grays and blues with dark wood accents. It’s sleek but homey. The kitchen houses high-end appliances, white marble countertops, and dark wood cabinets. It’s a far reach from the two-story cottage home my father owns. I twist the cap off the smoothie and down half of it. Mid-gulp, the contents get stuck in my throat when a woman’s voice meets my ears. Nope. That’s not a voice. It’s a moan. Actually, moans, to be accurate. Scanning the patio and pool beyond for a source of the noise, my first thought is maybe it’s Tatum, but that’s not possible. She’s dead to the world at this point. And these aren’t pain-filled or nauseated moans. They’re passion-filled. Hot. Movement draws my attention to one of the lounge chairs arranged at the edge of the pool. There are lights beneath the water, embedded in the concrete walls, and they cast just enough of a glow to reveal what I missed when I first sat down. Twenty feet away are Callum and some nameless blonde. He’s on his knees at the foot of the chair, the woman splayed out before him like a feast. My cheeks burn, and I know I should turn away, but I don’t. I watch as he peels away the bottom half of her bikini and lowers his face to her center. Oh my god. He’s eating her p***y, and I’m sitting here like an i***t watching. But I still can’t turn away as she arches her back and sinks both hands into his hair, holding him in place. Pressing a hand to my mouth, I stifle a gasp at the way he feasts on her, his strong hands wrapped around her thighs. Desire for something I have no business wanting bubbles low in my belly. Callum has always been the sexiest man I’ve ever met, a man who’s inspired countless filthy fantasies, but I’ve never seen him naked or even without one of his hand-tailored suits on. He’s always friendly but distracted by work. Fatherly, but fair-minded—he’s never treated either of us like kids. Commanding. Powerful. And even a little scary with his intensity. Now, I stare at him, drinking in the sight of his bare torso, inked arms and shoulders in a new light. The thick, corded muscles glisten. They’ve been swimming, his trunks still dripping water onto the concrete. Bitter jealousy presses against my chest and grows like a forest fire as the woman writhes beneath his mouth. I can only imagine what his tongue feels like, the roughness of it as he flicks her c**t. My c**t. I bet he’s the type to swallow every drop of her release. It’s clear she’s enjoying herself, given the throaty moans entering the kitchen. “Oh god! Callum. Yes! More!” she begs. Callum is an experienced man. He’s older and patient, and I know he could make me explode in seconds. My cheeks grow hotter. I’m sure if I looked in the mirror, my neck would be flaming red. I should go. It’s wrong—and neither of them knows I’m here. I need to go back to the room, remember my boyfriend and mundane future, but my feet won’t move. The scene playing out on the patio unlocks a fantasy I didn’t even want to acknowledge. The desire and excitement of being caught or seen. I wish like hell I was her, having him take me beneath the stars, too eager and hungry for each other to bother waiting until we get inside. I watch with bated breath as he grinds his face against her, his huge hands reaching across the length of her writhing body to pull down the skimpy cups of her bikini top. His hands quickly swallow her gigantic t**s. His huge, veiny hands. Saliva fills my mouth. f**k, what the hell am I doing? I’m so turned on by the scene before me I can feel the heat of my desire soaking my panties. Licking my lips, I watch with desperation as he massages her breasts, rolling the pink n*****s until she lets out a greedy cry of pleasure, her legs closing tightly around his head as if she can’t stand the pleasure. “f**k. It feels so good.” My heart shudders in my chest. I need to get out of here before they see me. Right now, they’re busy, but that could change and I’d die of humiliation if discovered. Then move, you i***t. And yet, my stupid feet stay rooted where they are. My eyes refuse to leave Callum’s body. My n*****s become stiff peaks that ache as they rub against the cotton of my nightshirt. I’ve been turned on before, but I’ve never experienced something like this. The sudden, all-consuming pleasure filling my core, all without a single finger touching me. The mystery woman continues moaning while Callum commands her body. Her legs now rest against his shoulders, and he continues feasting. He must be legendary at eating p***y since she’s practically wailing. “Callum… yes. Yes! Yes!” she purrs, her voice thick with desire. I tell myself this is no different from watching porn. I’m not doing anything wrong, right? He’s only my best friend’s father. Pressing her legs to her chest, he pulls back and releases her breasts in favor of snaking a hand between her legs. The way he has her bent, her p***y exposed, leaves nothing to my imagination. I pant. Another gush of arousal escapes my core, and I’m surprised I haven’t made a mess on the seat. Lucas has never touched me the way Callum’s touching her, the way he’s dining on her like she is the last meal he’ll ever have. He presses two thick digits into her p***y, and I watch as they disappear inside of her, stretching her. If I stare long enough, I can almost envision him sinking those same fingers into me. I can almost feel their thickness stretching me, commanding me. I look from her p***y to his face. His gaze is dark and focused on the same spot I was watching. The urge to touch myself, to make myself come, is consuming, and when he leans forward, diving back between her legs, I bite my lip to stifle a groan of pleasure. I’m dripping—lost and helpless—caught up in my desire for a man that is completely out of my reach. I shift my legs, the movement causing my thighs to rub together. The ache refuses to dull, and the only way to make it stop is to give in. But I can’t. It’s wrong. The patio lights gleam

off Callum’s thick, dark hair, his bare shoulders, and chest. Callum is always intense, stony, like an immovable slab of marble, but now it’s more noticeable as he pumps his fingers into the moaning blonde whose t**s bounce with every thrust. How many times have I had this same dream? Except, I was the woman he was f*****g, taming, taking pleasure from. I wonder if the rumors are true? That he f***s as dirty as he fights. It should be me. My body he’s touching, licking, kissing. My c**t he licks while his thick, strong fingers pummel my p***y. I wish I could see his c**k, but he’s still clothed from the waist down. In my fantasies, I’ve imagined his c**k to be immense, his girth thick, thanks to the tempting outline in his suit pants. I can’t count how many times I’ve caught myself staring at him. All I could think was… would he break me as he pushed inside? His massive c**k becoming too much for my little p***y to handle. I shudder, the pressure in my core too intense to be ignored. The sight of his body, the moans of the woman he’s feasting on. It’s wreaking havoc on my fragile libido. Oh god. I shouldn’t. It’s wrong. Very wrong. I know this, but I never claimed to be a good girl, did I? The ache of desire becomes almost painful, and I need to extinguish the fire. Even if it’s wrong, I need this. Snaking a hand beneath my nightshirt, I roll one of my n*****s between my fingers the way Callum is doing to the blonde with his free hand. Pleasure zips through my center, and I crave it with a soul-filling desire. I envision my fingers as his, the rough texture of them scraping against my tight peak. The temperature of my body rises as all my attention turns to his other hand, the one pounding into her. The forbidden aspect of it, the wanton need claiming every inch of my body, makes me wetter. Instinct tells me to run, but I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. Spreading my legs wider, I prop one foot on the stool while I slip my other hand beneath my thong. My lips part, and my tongue darts out over my bottom lip as I dip them into my wet heat, pretending it’s his fingers there instead of my own. This is so wrong. Filthy. What is wrong with me? I’ve fought against my infatuation for five years, and I know this could end up ruining my friendship with Tatum. But I can’t stop. I don’t want to, not when it feels so good to f**k my c**t and pretend I’m the girl the infamous Callum Torrio is driving to the brink of insane pleasure. Right now, I just want to feel good, and if I can do it while watching a man I’ve spent years fantasizing about, then I will. “Don’t stop!” The blonde pants, getting closer. “Ooh, f**k, baby… that’s right, just like that! I’m gonna come! Please, don’t stop!” Tossing her head back, her lips part and a silent scream escapes before she falls against the chair, her body heaving in an orgasm so intense it possesses her body, leaving her convulsing. f**k. I’m jealous. I’ve never orgasmed like that. It’s because of him. Callum. He could make me come like that if I was lucky enough. If he noticed me or saw me. My body tenses, my c**t throbbing, and the thundering of my heartbeat fills my ears. s**t. I’m going to come. I can feel my arousal slipping down my thighs. My p***y is crying for a man I can’t have. Faster. Faster. I rub the little nub faster, the pressure and friction just right. God, I need to stop… this is wrong. I can’t come while watching my best friend’s father eating another woman out, but… oh god. I’m going to come, and it feels so f*****g good. I’m cresting, my entire body ready to split in half. Every muscle tenses. Oh, f**k, oh god. My eyes flutter closed, goosebumps erupting across my flesh, and my hips lift, my p***y ready to be filled with c**k. A second later, I shatter. The air stills in my lungs, and euphoric pleasure explodes, entering every cell in my body. I clench around the air and wish so badly it was Callum’s c**k coming inside me. A single forbidden name falls from my lips on a gasp. “Callum…” It’s nothing more than a whisper. He can’t hear me. He can’t. There’s no way. I’m safe in the darkness. Still, as my lids slowly open, I see his head snap up. My heart beats even faster, my orgasm continuing on, the tiny sparks leaving my core spasming. In the darkness, our gazes collide, though I’m sure all he can see is the sliding glass door. The floor falls beneath me when his gorgeous full lips twitch upward into a smirk. He knows. He can see me, but how? It occurs to me then that we’re locked in this moment together, him and I, the way I’ve longed for, for so many years. My legs are jello, my chest is still heaving, and my fingers are soaked with my release. The evidence of what I’ve done. The terrible, forbidden thing I’ve done with my best friend’s father. I should be ashamed of myself. But how could I ever be when it feels so good? When it still feels amazing to have Callum’s gaze on me. He can’t see me. He can’t. But it feels like he can. And the knowing smirk on his face tells me he likes it. “L et me get this straight.” My best friend Tatum leans over, her elbow squeaking on the leather seat of the town car while a glass of champagne teeters in her hand. Gently, she brushes strands of her sunshine-blonde hair from her heart-shaped face. “You graduated from college today, and your boyfriend of five f*****g years couldn’t bother to attend the ceremony or hang out with you after?” I grind my teeth. Does she have to be so honest? Her bluntness is nothing new, even if she’s slurring her words after all the alcohol she’s consumed today. There were five graduation parties at which we absolutely had to make an appearance. Her words, not mine. And sure, it was fun, but it might’ve been better if I’d felt like I was actually there. Present. Instead, all I could do was watch everyone else celebrating their next step in life while I remained apart, wondering what was broken inside me. I guess my absent boyfriend is as good of an excuse as any, even if it doesn’t ring entirely true. There are deeper issues, but I’m not ready to face those yet. “Unfortunately, he has to work early in the morning.” I feed her the lie he’s given me one time too many. “I can’t blame him for trying to be an adult.” “An adult would’ve requested the day off. It’s not like he hasn’t known the graduation date for months.” She offers a blithe shrug. “I don’t buy it for a second, Bianca.” Like always, she’s calling my bluff. All I can do is shake my head. “The only thing that matters is that it’s important to you,” she continues. “If he really wanted to be here, he would be. He’s treating you like you’re an afterthought, and it’s bullshit. If he was a real man, building a future with you would be the most important thing to him. I know you don’t want to believe it, but you don’t mean s**t to him, and that makes me want to s***h his tires and tell him what a stupid fucker he is.” Sigh . I wish I knew what to say, but there is no response that will make her happy with my choice to stay with him. Lucas has burned me so many times it’s impossible to see the good that may or may not be left in him. I don’t know why I stay. Maybe it’s the fear of being alone? Or maybe I’m hoping he’ll come around. The truth is, I don’t know. It’s not like there’s a ring on my finger or a family that we’re planning. I can’t spend the rest of the night listening to her say things I’ve already heard—and told myself—a million times, so I grasp at something to divert her. “Hey, it’s not all bad.” I smile. “Him blowing me off means we got to spend the entire day together and the rest of the night, too. And last time I checked, your devoted boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to hang out tonight, either.” I cringe as soon as I say the words out loud. Regret is a shot I didn’t prep a chaser for when I see the smug grin on her full lips slip. “Yeah, well, I