by Laura Simcox
“Ohmygod.” She ran her hands up his biceps. “No buts. None. Just…please. Marcus. Please…”
“My pleasure,” he groaned and pressed closer. She wrapped her legs around his hips and twined her arms about his neck. Her head fell back as he covered her mouth with his, lifted her from the sofa, and carried her into her small, cold bedroom.
The storm whipped and howled outside and a whoosh of frosty wind from the poorly insulated window made goose bumps raise on her bare arms, but her lust-fogged brain barely registered the cold air. Even so, she was relieved when he leaned down to pull back the thick down comforter and settle her body onto the flannel sheets. Eyes half-closed, Ivy reached to her side to unzip her skirt.
“I want to do that,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
She raised her arms above her head and watched as he kicked off his shoes and moved onto the bed, straddling her bare stomach. When he smiled, she saw the predatory gleam in his eyes, and she shuddered in anticipation. Grabbing his tie, she pulled him in for a kiss. His tongue slid around hers, and Ivy’s head sank into the pillow from the delicious pressure of his mouth. When he leaned forward, the silk of his tie brushed along her tight nipples, and she pressed upward. Her thighs fell open as her eyes closed. It was too much pleasure for one person. Not that she was complaining.
Marcus swung one of his legs over to the side and nestled himself beside her. The snick of the skirt zipper sounded and she felt a tug as it—and her tights—rolled off her legs. She heard the dim thunk of her stiletto pumps hitting the floor, and blindly, she pulled at his tie knot, but the freight train of lust careening through her prevented her fingers from working. She moved her head to the side and met his eyes.
“Well, shit. This tie has to come off somehow. Your shirt, too. I want to feel your skin on mine,” she groaned, reaching for his belt buckle and pulling him back on top of her.
He chuckled into her mouth and leaned back. Through her eyelashes, she watched him loosen the tie and pull the crisp dress shirt over his head. Her gaze darted over the sprinkling of hair that dusted his wide chest and continued in a narrow trail down his flat stomach. Damn. She could never get tired of looking at that. Or at his arms. She glanced up at his carved biceps and then at his broad shoulders.
“Jeez, Marcus. How do you look so good?” she asked, curving her mouth up into a smile as need coursed through her body.
He shrugged, and the skin over his chest rippled. “Push-ups in the morning.”
“That’s it?”
He smiled back and shifted his hips in a slow, deliberate motion, pressing his erection into her belly button. Heat rushed into Ivy’s core. “Do you really care right now?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Thought not,” he replied as his warm fingers pulled her blouse and bra away. His open mouth descended on her breasts.
Ivy chin lifted as she pushed her head farther into the pillow, moaning. She’d fantasized about this moment so many times, but the reality shot her daydreams straight to hell. His mouth was like a brand—searing and sweet—and his tongue…God…She reached for his hips, but when his lips closed around a nipple and tugged, electricity shot through her and she bucked upward.
“Your pants. Off. Now,” she gasped, tugging at his belt.
He complied, quickly kicking them to the floor, along with his shoes. His fingers returned to her body, cupping her breasts and running his thumbs over her taut nipples. She sucked in a breath and before she could beg again, he ran his hands down her belly to the edge of her panties. He dipped a finger under the top edge and toyed with the tiny blue bow in the front. In one motion, he dragged them off and threw them on the floor.
Ivy shifted her hips and opened her legs to welcome him. “I want you inside me,” she rasped, pulling him between her thighs, groaning as he held back.
“Not yet,” he whispered, his large palm tracing circles along her belly.
She glanced down as the circles got bigger and slower. When his hand brushed her mound and stilled, she caught her breath. And when his palm encased it and he dipped a thumb inside her cleft, a deep moan dragged out of her throat and she dug her fingers into the sheets. The circles of his fingers became slower still, and she raised her knees off the bed.
“More?” Marcus asked.
She nodded, unable to speak.
His movement grew faster and faster. One of his thick fingers slid inside her and joined the rhythm of his thumb on her engorged flesh. Ivy felt herself melting, and her mouth fell open as sharp, keening moans rose up in her throat. She exploded in a rush of heat, and her heart hammered as her heels dug into the soft mattress.
“Mmmm, that’s my girl,” she heard him whisper in satisfaction.
Aftershocks buzzed through her thighs and belly, her fingers tingling when she finally released the sheets and drew in a shuddering breath. “Oh my God, Marcus.” She looked up and found his piercing blue gaze alive with fire.
He stared into her eyes. The room was silent except for their ragged breathing and the wind moaning outside the window.
Her orgasm glowed in her limbs. She stretched, loving the way his gaze snapped to her breasts. She found her voice. “Do you have—”
“I do.” Marcus leaned over the edge of the bed, and she heard a small tearing noise. He reemerged with a condom between his fingers. “Do you want to—”
“I do,” she answered with a smile, reaching for his hips. He shifted and his shadow fell across the bed. His spectacular body was backlit from the light in the living room, and Ivy’s eyes flicked over his chest and shoulders again. Then his abdomen and finally, his erection. There, her eyes stopped moving. She reached for him, marveling at his thickness. He didn’t move, but she heard a soft hiss of breath leave his mouth. She licked her lips and leaned forward.
Marcus groaned. “I just want to be buried in you. As soon as possible.” His low voice was barely a whisper.
Ivy complied, rolling the condom on. She leaned back against the pillows and pulled him back on top of her. Without taking his eyes from hers, he shifted his hips and nestled his large shaft just inside of her, stretching her still-contracting muscles.
She slipped her hands from his shoulders and ran them over his chest with a sigh. She let her fingers trail down his belly and rest on his waist. She wiggled her hips to let him in deeper.
Marcus groaned and surged forward, filling her completely, as Ivy gripped his back to pull him closer. She gasped at the fullness of him, drawing her knees up to his sides.
His reply was a searing kiss and thrusting. So much amazing thrusting.
Ivy ripped her mouth from his and sucked on the skin just under his hard jawline. She nipped his ear. “I’ve wanted you so bad,” she whispered. “From day one. Did you know that?”
This time Marcus groaned in response and clutched her hips, raising them off the bed. Ivy felt the melting sensation begin again, and she pushed up to meet him stroke for stroke. In a tangle of moans and panting, they came together, the shuddering of their bodies a blissful mingling. Ivy collapsed, holding Marcus’s shoulders and pulling his face into her neck. His breath burned hot on her skin as he panted into her hair.
“I told you a long time ago that I wanted you, Ivy. You know that,” he murmured, raising his head.
She smiled, stroking his close-cropped hair. He snaked out of her grasp and shot her a crooked grin as he titled to the side, sliding himself gently out of her and reaching for the comforter. He pulled it over their twined bodies and rested his head on the pillow next to hers.
“And are you okay?” he asked.
“So much better than okay,” she answered, snuggling close to rest her head on his solid chest. She closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of being in his arms.
Ten seconds later, from under the sofa, her phone blared out with the “Death Star Theme” from Star Wars. Preston. Fucking figured.
“He better not be at the front door, wanting to come in,” she growled. “I’ll kill him.”
Under her head, she felt Marcus’s chest shaking in a silent laugh.
“Dammit,” she said through gritted teeth. “Not funny.”
Marcus snorted and then laughter erupted. “Sweetheart, you’re the queen of the understatement.”
Ivy frowned and lifted her head. “Oh, shut up.”
Marcus winked, and she wiggled a hand free and shook a finger in his face. “Not cool.”
Marcus grabbed her finger and slowly licked the tip. “You going to answer the phone?” Marcus asked in a casual tone before slipping his mouth around another of her fingers.
“Oh, hell no,” she replied, pulling the covers over their heads.
“Should I go look for some whipped cream for round two?” he asked in a low, lazy voice.
Ivy licked her lips and matched his sexy tone. “No. I can handle that myself.” She let her fingers trail down his stomach. His gorgeous eyes widened, and the hand that had been caressing her back fell away.
“I told you I wanted you, Marcus,” she replied, knowing her eyes danced with mischief. As she slipped from the bed and walked toward the kitchen, she smiled to herself, feeling happier than she had in a longer time than she wanted to admit.
Now, where was that whipped cream?
Chapter Fifteen
“For God’s sake, Delia. Go in the kitchen and turn that Christmas music off,” Brian grumbled as he ate the one remaining bite of his fat-free, sugar-free chocolate pudding the next evening.
“Oh, all right.” Delia stood up and grabbed the empty plates in front of Marcus and Colleen. “Anybody want some coffee?” She turned toward the kitchen.
Ivy watched, smiling, as her dad’s fingers snaked toward the dish of pecan pie sitting on the edge of the dining room table. His eyes were squinted in concentration, so he didn’t see it coming when Delia turned around and smacked his hand.
“Ow!” He glared at her.
She shuffled the plates and grabbed the pie dish before walking into the kitchen. “Behave,” she shot over her shoulder.
Colleen laughed. “Almost had it, son.” She elbowed Marcus, who sat next to her. “Didn’t he?”
“Nearly,” Marcus agreed with a grin.
Ivy glanced at him, and her face went hot. Two hours ago, she’d been lying on top of him in the afternoon sunlight, her breasts rubbing across his chest as she reached for the headboard. And then he’d grabbed her by the waist and she’d plunged herself down, exhilarated by the groan that burst from his mouth. It had been heaven, but right now she didn’t feel so euphoric. She felt claustrophobic. Saturday-night dinner with her family had just taken on a whole new level of intimacy.
She shifted in her seat, exquisite soreness still throbbing between her thighs. So far, nobody had asked where Marcus spent the night last night or most of the day today, but nobody in the house was a fool. When her grandmother had called earlier to invite her to dinner, Ivy almost hadn’t answered, but Colleen had been completely natural. Up until the end of the call, at least.
“Has Marcus shoveled your sidewalk?” she’d asked. And then she laughed. And laughed. He’d dug out of her driveway two hours later and they’d driven to her parents’ house for dinner. In separate cars.
So where would Marcus spend the night tonight?
She tried not to smile, but she did anyway. God! This was crazy. Her dad sitting next to her grumbling about dessert, her grandmother grinning like the Cheshire cat, and Marcus…Ivy sucked in a breath. Marcus’s foot was running up the side of her calf. She jerked her legs under her chair and gave him a pointed look. His lips tilted up, but he withdrew his foot and lifted a glass of iced tea to his mouth.
For a few seconds, Ivy was embarrassed. The last man she’d had sex with before Marcus had been Preston. And her reaction to him had felt nothing like this. With Preston, she’d been more worried about him commenting on her too-pale skin or chipped nail polish than giving herself up to pure enjoyment. Not the case with Marcus. The only thing she was worried about now was appearing too eager. Her entire body vibrated with the need to be skin to skin with Marcus again. She looked up and met his eyes.
Brian coughed. “You ready to get that tattoo on Monday, Ivy?”
She nodded. “It’ll be fun. Well, not the pain part, but I’ve always wanted one.”
“It feels like a yellow jacket stinging you over and over,” Colleen commented. “It’s hell.”
“How would you know?” Brian asked, frowning.
“Don’t ask.” She winked. “Ivy, guess what?”
“What, Gramma?”
“I’ve decided to throw my Awful Christmas Sweater party this year. Want to help me plan it?”
Brian groaned. “Mother, not again. Last time you cornered Bill Benson by the punch bowl and asked him to check the bulbs on your tree.”
“What’s wrong with that?” she asked innocently. “Christmas trees have bulbs.”
Ivy laughed, scooting back her chair. “Those bulbs were on your sweater.”
Marcus choked on his tea. “A…light-up sweater?”
“Damn right,” Colleen said. “And I’m wearing it again. Ivy, you can have the one with the kittens on it. I know how much you like cat-themed stuff.”
Ivy grimaced and walked around the table. “Thanks, Gramma. And yes, I’ll help you plan it.” She darted through the kitchen doorway and stopped short. Her mom stood near the coffee pot, her arms folded, and her laser stare directed straight at Ivy.
With a swallow, Ivy whirled around and went back to the dining room. “Coffee’s almost ready.”
Marcus’s phone rang, and he shifted to pull it out of his pocket. He glanced at it and frowned. “What the…”
“Who is it?” Ivy asked, trying to keep her eyes focused somewhere other than the bulge in the front of his jeans.
“Uh, it’s Preston, actually,” he answered. “I’ll take it upstairs.” He got to his feet and disappeared into the living room. A few seconds later, Ivy heard the creak of the steps, and she exhaled.
Brian cleared his throat. “So, Ivy—”
“Dad, I’d love to tell you what’s been going on with the downtown renewal,” she interrupted. No way in hell was she going to discuss her sex life with her family.
He ducked his head and shook it, chuckling. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask about you and Mister Moneybags. I don’t want to know.” He leaned back in his chair. “But tell me about what’s going on with the bakery.”
Ivy shot a look upstairs. “Okay, but let’s make it quick.” She sat back down, lowering her voice. “Preston found a serious buyer. Have you heard of Great American Novelty?”
Brian grinned. “Sure. I ordered your mom’s ‘Over the Hill’ birthday decorations from them for her fiftieth.”
Colleen’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Is that the type of place that sells rubber dog poo and glow-in-the-dark vampire teeth? Hot damn, I might go work there myself.”
“Gramma.” Ivy laughed. “It’s not a done deal yet, but it’s looking pretty great. It’s a family-owned company, too, just like Parliament Bakery. But this company is very healthy, and they pay well and have a good benefits package.”
Brian slapped his hands on the table. “Oh, Ivy. Great job. I knew you could do it.”
“Dad, shhh!”
He reached across and pulled her into a hug, nearly yanking her off her chair.
Delia appeared in the doorway with a mug of coffee. “What did she do?”
“I didn’t do anything except encourage Preston,” Ivy said, dragging her face away from her dad’s itchy wool shirt. “Please, keep your voices down.”
“What?” Delia frowned. “But I thought you and Marcus—”
“They are!” Colleen practically yelled.
Ivy closed her eyes for a second. “Preston talked to a college friend of his, George Parker, whose dad owns the novelty company. They live in Albany, so it’s not far for them to drive over and take a look at the property,” she said quietly.
C
olleen reached across the table and tapped on Ivy’s hand. “Tell them to bring a catalog.”
“Assuming they buy, don’t you think it better be before the Megamart deal goes up for a vote? When is that?” Brian asked.
Ivy sighed. “December twenty-third. So, counting today, that gives us…ten days.” She groaned. “Dammit. Ten days? I need to call Preston. Where’s my phone?” She started toward the living room, where she’d flopped her purse earlier.
“Honey, Marcus is talking to Preston,” Colleen reminded her.
Oh, shit. Right. Ivy turned in the entryway. “You know, it’s really weird that Preston called him at all. They kind of got into a fight in my office yesterday.”
Delia gave her an amused look. “A fight over you?”
“No, Mom.” But they had been fighting over her. Well, at least Marcus had been.
Brian rose from his chair and stretched with an exaggerated sigh. “Delia, dinner was delicious.”
Delia raised an eyebrow at him.
“It was,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Even if it was no fat, no salt, no—”
Delia elbowed him. “Oh shut it, Brian.”
He chuckled and pointed at Ivy. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Mayor. But I have a feeling if you can work fast and get that novelty company’s prospectus in front of the town council this week, the Megamart plan will sink like a stone.”
“That’s what I’m counting on, Dad.”
She walked into the living room and dug in her bag for her phone. A few seconds later, Marcus trotted down the steps. “Hey,” she said, smiling over her shoulder.
He didn’t answer, and she turned around to see a grim expression on his face. “Oh, shit. I’ve seen that look before, and it was in the mirror.” She laughed. “He can be so annoying on the phone. What did he want?”
Marcus gave her a tight smile and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Just bullshit about the Christmas Festival.”
She walked over to where he stood on the bottom step. Her face was level with his abdomen, and she had an urge to lift up his shirt and plant kisses all over it, just like she had sometime in the middle of the night. She glanced toward the dining room and then back up at him. She licked her lips. “So…I’m going to leave soon. Do you want—”