“God, this always feels so good,” she whispered. He nodded, moving his hands to her waist.
“You always feel so good.”
She rocked her hips slowly at first, her head rolling back on her shoulders. Marc cupped her breast in one hand, sucking on her nipple through the material of her bra. Then she picked up speed, using her legs to lift up and down, all while still rocking her hips to meet his with every thrust.
“Marc,” she cried out his name, and he loved the way it sounded on her lips.
“Yes,” he responded, not caring what he was saying. She leaned away, bracing one hand against the seat back behind her, which enabled her to thrust even harder. He groaned and reached around to hold onto her ass.
“Please,” she panted, her other hand pressing flat against his chest. “Please.”
He slid one of his hands around to where their pelvises were meeting. He twisted his thumb in the lace of her panties, then used the material against her, used the friction against her sensitivity. She shrieked, almost jumping off of him, her whole body shaking for a moment.
“Whoa now, you’re not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he growled, yanking her back down on top of him. Impaling her on him.
“I’m … I’m … I’m …,” she chanted, both her hands moving to hold onto the back of his neck.
“You’re gonna come. Please, please, please, come for me, Lily,” he begged, moving his thumb faster, pumping his hips harder.
He could feel it start. He wasn’t a small guy, and she was a tight girl – he could feel every muscle twitch and spasm. Her cries got louder, her shuddering grew more intense, and even in the flickering street light, he could see her pale chest turning an almost crimson red. Her bouncing grew erratic and she closed her eyes, shoving her forehead against his own.
A woman’s orgasm was such a strange thing to him. It was like an explosion, the screaming, the gasping, the shaking. Yet everything constricted at the same time, her arms coiling around him, her leg muscles freezing, her pussy locking him into place, almost making him come at the same time as her.
Such an amazing thing.
“I can’t … I can’t even,” she breathed after a solid minute had passed. He chuckled.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive.”
He laid her down flat on the seat and worked above her. No gentle thrusting after such a big orgasm – he immediately pounded into her, eliciting more shrieks. He groaned and worked his hand underneath her bra, clenching his fingers around her breast. He wanted all of her, every inch of her, right now, five minutes ago, yesterday.
He was well aware that they were on a street, in a car, fucking in public, in a city where women weren’t even supposed to be outside after dark. But he didn’t care. The only thing he could think about was coming until she was overflowing.
He was being greedy, he knew that; only thinking about his own pleasure in that moment. So when she came for a second time, it completely caught him off guard. He had worked her bra up her chest and he had her nipple in his mouth when it happened, and he groaned, biting down on the edge of her areola. It had an obvious effect on her and she screamed, her back arching off the seat as her orgasm intensified. He couldn’t take it and he came with a shout, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as his hips kept jerking involuntarily, till there was no more of him to give.
Ding ding! Round one over! Marc: One. Lily: Two.
“This was a bad decision,” she panted. He collapsed on top of her, all of his weight flattening her on the seat.
“Horrible. Terrible. I’m ashamed of myself. Give me fifteen minutes, and we’ll make an even worse decision,” he replied.
“Fifteen minutes, huh.”
He laughed, and then she laughed. She combed her fingers through his hair. He pulled on her hair. She sighed his name. His bit down on her bottom lip. She managed to work her bra off. He ripped her underwear off.
Fifteen minutes was an over estimation – he only needed ten.
DAY FIVE
They spent the rest of the night, and most of the next morning, driving to Dakhla – a coastal city, about a third of the way into Western Sahara. Marc drove them across the border. Apparently, his comment about land mines hadn’t been a joke. The area was riddled with them, and he wanted to take it slow and easy.
After finally wearing each other out in the back seat, they’d gotten dressed and headed back towards the French embassy. As they drove along, Lily flung her ruined underwear out a window, earning a smirk from Marc. She shimmied back into her shorts, regretting not having any other clothing. She did, however, untie her tank top and return it to normal.
They went back for their gear. Marc hopped out a couple streets down, with a promise to meet her on the outskirts of town. Lily had parked at their designated meeting spot, then she sat and chewed on her fingernails, ducking down in her seat. Worried that he wouldn’t show up. Worried that someone would investigate her car. Worried the cops would pop up and question her.
None of those things happened, and after twenty minutes, Marc pulled up in the beat up suburban. They transferred everything to the stolen Explorer, then hit the road, driving off into the night.
When the sun began to rise, they switched places, and as they approached Dakhla, Marc suggested that they stop and take a breather.
“For how long?” Lily asked, glancing around the desert on either side of them. Western Sahara wasn’t exactly an ideal vacation spot. There were three different countries, and inside factions, that were constantly fighting over ownership of the tiny country. The northern area had been claimed by Morocco, and Lily wanted to get up there as quickly as possible.
“Just for a night. I’m beat, you’re beat, and I don’t want one of us driving off the road here. Getting blown up probably isn’t as fun as it sounds,” he told her.
“You slept most of the way to the border,” she pointed out.
“Shut up. You’ll love it here.”
Apparently, it wasn’t so much a suggestion as a statement. They were stopping, and that was it.
Lily was shocked when they finally made their way into the small city. Dakhla was actually very pretty. Palm trees lined the dusty streets, and to their left, blue-green water lined an expansive strip of beach. It was really quite picturesque.
But sometimes nasty things can come in pretty packages. Lily herself was proof of that. She cleared her throat as Marc looked around for a hotel.
“Every time we’ve stopped,” she started, keeping her voice even so she wouldn’t come off as bratty or condescending, “something bad has happened. The boarding house in Mali, the home in Mauritania. It seems like whenever we stop to catch our breath, trouble catches up to us. I think this is a really bad idea.”
“Maybe so, and maybe it will catch up to us, but sweetheart, we still need to catch our breath. This is a new car, so it’s not possible that it would be bugged. No one would think to look for us here, since we had to get off the main road. They would assume we drove straight on into the city of Laayoune, or even into Morocco proper. We have to stop, Lily. I need to breathe,” he said simply.
It struck Lily that Marc didn’t like being in the car. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but it kind of made sense. He did most of his work on his feet, creeping around in shadows. He was movement personified. Sitting still for hours on end must have been hard on him.
“Alright. But we have to move on, first thing in the morning,” she stressed.
“Yes, mistress, anything you say, mistress.”
“I like that. Keep calling me that.”
They splurged and stopped at what seemed to be the nicest hotel in the small city. It sat on the beach, and had a quaint feel to it that had Lily remembering vacations in Mexico. A surreal quality that had her forgetting the here and now, the why and the what for of their situation.
“I hope you don’t mind sharing a bed,” Marc commented, barely holding the door open long enough for her to make it throug
h into the room. She snorted at him.
“I guess I can deal with it, if you make it worth my while.”
Denying their attraction to each other was stupid and pointless. They obviously couldn’t keep their hands off each other, so they’d decided to just go with it. Sex relieved tension, and tension had become a way of life.
“We can just get dinner here, lay low,” Marc called out as she wandered around the space and into the bathroom. She gasped.
“Oh my god, a bath tub,” she moaned, falling against the door frame. There were footsteps, then Marc was right behind her.
“You take a bath,” he suggested, “and I’ll go out and scrounge up some more supplies. We barely have any food left, and it’s like a fifteen hour drive to Tangier.”
Lily frowned. Tangier, Morocco. Where she would get on a ferry to go to Barcelona, Spain. Where she would head off to end a very ugly chapter in her life. Where she would leave behind a very worthy opponent.
A very worthy friend.
Marc left and Lily turned on the water. Then she blockaded the front door to the room. If she was going to get any sort of rest, she would need to feel secure and like she could actually relax. So she jammed a chair under the door handle, and even shoved a huge dresser in front of the entrance, as well.
She left a trail of clothing across the floor as she dragged herself back into the bathroom. The water was almost scalding hot, but she didn’t even care. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt warm water on her body. Hot water. She groaned, scooting as much of herself under the water as she could and dunking her whole head.
After cleaning every inch of her skin with a rough sponge, she laid her head back against a towel and just relaxed, letting her mind wander.
What are you doing, Liliana?
It was a question she’d been asking herself since their night together at the house they’d broken into, though it had been on non-stop repeat since the night before, since their night in the back seat of the Explorer.
For five years, she hadn’t been able to see beyond her one goal. Beyond getting close enough to Stankovski to kill him. She’d slept with plenty of guys in that time period. Guys she was attracted to, guys she was just using to get ahead in the underworld. None of them mattered, none of them stuck. When she’d had sex with Marc back in Liberia, it had been with the intention that he would just be another one of the many. Nothing special.
Which it wasn’t … was it?
They were like magnets, fighting against each other one minute, then stuck together the next. Whatever it was, it was tangible, and powerful, and very real, and very present. He was the first person to ever make her question her plan. To ever make her wonder if maybe revenge wasn’t the answer.
“… we don’t have to be these people anymore …”
Who was she, anyway?
And more importantly, whoever she was, did she even want to be that person without him? Maybe it would be easier to be someone else with him. Maybe, just maybe, revenge wasn’t the answer. Her revenge plan had almost gotten them both killed, several different times. Was it worth it? And Marc was right, killing Stankovski wouldn’t bring Kaylee back – her sister would still be dead. Killing him wouldn’t change anything, except Lily’s perception of herself. And did she want to be that person?
Who am I, anyway?
*
Lily woke up with a start, jerking away at the sound of something hitting the ground. She sat up, splashing water in her face. She’d fallen asleep in the tub. She rubbed at her eyes and blinked around.
“You blocked the door.”
She looked up and took in Marc, standing in the bathroom doorway.
“I wanted to relax,” she yawned, gathering her wet hair in one hand and wringing out the ends.
“I had to pick the lock on the sliding glass entry. You didn’t block that door,” he pointed out. She shrugged and turned the hot water faucet on.
“Was too tired to remember. What time is it?”
“Like two or so. I got you some things,” he said, bending down to dig in the bag he’d dropped at his feet. He pulled out some things for himself, then kicked the bag to the side of the tub.
“Like what?” she asked, picking through the items. She was happy to see a pair of pants and a shirt, and shocked to find a bathing suit.
“Essentials. Your hooker shorts are too much, we’ll get shot if you keep walking around in them,” he told her.
“Essentials, huh. Underwear should’ve made the list over a bikini,” she replied, chucking the bottoms at him. He was standing in front of the mirror, spreading a shaving cream over his scruffy beard.
“Pffft, maybe on your list. Underwear didn’t even make it onto my list. What’s the point of them, anyway. They just get in my way,” he replied. She laughed and settled back into the water.
“I don’t think there’s much that gets in your way, Marcelle,” she teased him.
“Damn straight.”
They were quiet for a while. Marc shaved while she turned off her hot water and tried to pretend that she wasn’t ridiculously happy to see him. Every time he left her, she had a small fear that he wouldn’t come back. That the ultimate betrayal was yet to happen, and it was only a matter of time before he stole the diamonds and left her in nowheres-ville, Africa. But he always came back for her, and she was beginning to think that maybe he always would.
“Scoot over.”
She lifted her head to find him standing next to her, pulling his t-shirt off. She scooted forward while he dropped his pants, then he climbed into the water behind her, stretching his legs out on either side of her. It took some adjusting, but eventually they were situated with her stretched out on his legs, her back to his chest, his arms around her waist.
“This is nice,” she whispered, leaning her head back so it rested on his shoulder.
“God. I think I’d actually forgotten what hot water feels like,” he moaned, echoing her thoughts from when she’d first gotten in the bath. She turned her head, glancing at his face.
“I’d forgotten what you look like without shit all over your face,” she replied, and he laughed as she ran her fingers down his cheek.
“‘Shit all over your face’. You are a wordsmith, sweetheart,” he sighed.
“Damn straight.”
They chatted for a while, about nonsense. It was almost like old times, like back in the Bratva safe house. Only more nudity. But then their pauses got longer and longer, Marc’s voice got heavier and heavier. Eventually he didn’t respond to a question, and Lily looked up to find he’d fallen asleep.
I’d forgotten what he looks like without all that scruff. Forgotten that he’s so good looking.
Scruff or no scruff, Marc was sexy. But without it, he looked sharper. Less crazy, more cunning. His brows were knitted together in his sleep, and his jaw was clenched. She wondered what he was dreaming about, what was making him so tense, even in his sleep.
She twisted around in the bathtub, laying against him, pressing her breasts against his abdomen. She hugged him close, managing to slide her hands around his back.
“Tell me what do, Marc,” she breathed against his skin. “I’ve been making decisions for too long. Have they all been wrong? Tell me what do.”
Ridiculously, she felt teary eyed. She took that as a sign that they’d been in the water too long, and she climbed out, waking him up in the process. She put the bikini on, then found an ancient blow dryer in a bottom drawer of the vanity. A luxury. She blew out her hair, using a comb to tame the locks.
“My god, you almost look nice,” Marc commented, looking over her reflection as he walked up behind her. She elbowed him in the stomach.
“Shut up.”
While he got dressed, she headed out of the room. They had a glass door that led out to a small, fenced in patio. Lily stopped, glanced around, then simply hiked a leg over the wrought iron fencing. One more step, and she was at the side of the hotel’s pool. Beyond that, a beach stre
tched out in front of her, disappearing in a haze where it met the ocean. She headed across the sand.
She couldn’t get over it. In front of her was one of the most gorgeous sights she’d ever seen. Behind her was one of the most terrifying places she’d ever been. Everywhere they’d been was “the most terrifying”; going into the job, she’d known western Africa was dangerous. But a person couldn’t really grasp the breadth of something like that till it was right in front of them. All around them.
Wow, talk about an analogy for this whole fucked up situation …
“What the fuck are you doing!?”
She heard Marc shouting from behind her, and she turned around, shielding her eyes from the sun. She had gone right up to the water and he looked tiny, standing in front of their hotel room.
“Come join me!” she yelled back, waving him forward.
“Get in here, right now!”
“What!? No, it’s gorgeous out here! Just come here!”
“You fuckhead, it’s not safe out there! Get in here, NOW!”
When she flipped him the bird, he started coming after her. She turned her back to him and continued watching the water as it lapped at her feet.
“We’ve been moving, non stop, for the last four days, I just want -” she began when she heard him right behind her.
“I know, believe me. But it’s not safe to be outside. Anyone could see us,” he informed her. He didn’t come around to her front, or even to her side. He stayed directly behind her.
“What do you mean? Like who? A bell boy? A local? Oh no, god forbid they see us!” she laughed.
“I’m fucking serious.”
“Me, too. I’m so pale, I might blind someone if they look directly at me,” she joked, looking down the length of her body. She still thought they were teasing, but there was nothing funny in the way Marc grabbed her and spun her around.
“Do you want to get fucking shot? Standing out here, half naked, that red fucking hair everywhere. Want a sign that says ‘shoot me’?” he demanded, his fingers squeezing her biceps painfully.
Best Laid Plans Page 17