by Nana Malone
I could hear the consternation in his voice. “Yes, but you wanted to do it. You were so sweet.”
“Yeah, just what every man wants to hear, how sweet he is.”
“Well, you were.”
“I was trying to keep you safe from muggers. How was I supposed to know you were an assassin?”
“You know, I've been asking myself that same question. Neither one of us saw it. To me, you were cute and geeky.”
“Ah, so you thought I was cute?”
“Really? Out of all these admissions, that is what you're focusing on?”
“Yup. My ego knows no bounds.”
I laughed at that.
He could still make me laugh. He could easily wear down the barriers of my distrust. “Why were you suddenly so intent on us continuing to see each other?”
He laughed then. “Well, after the fight, it was like I was seeing you for the first time. Once I saw you fight Stannis, even doing your I can’t fight act, it was like I couldn't get you out of my head. You were so full of strength and tenacity, and honestly, it was all I could think about. Your unwillingness to give up. So yeah, total turn on. Also, well, by then I knew what you tasted like, and I was certainly unwilling to give that up until I’d had more.”
My face heated.
Then his tone turned from playful to serious. “But we are at a crossroads. We work for competing organizations, and we don't trust each other now. So let's just work together on this. Find out what Victus is up to. Keep you safe. And then we'll never have to see each other again.”
The problem was, I suddenly wasn't sure if that was what I wanted anymore.
* * *
Lyra
I tossed and turned in bed, unable to stop my brain from churning. How had I gotten here? How was this my life? One day, not so long ago, I'd gone to bed and everything had been relatively normal. I’d even had someone in my life for once.
Then the next day, everything had changed. I’d gone on a mission and shot my boyfriend. Or whatever he was.
And now you can't stop thinking about him.
I could practically feel him in the other room on watch. Making sure I was safe. The ever-present guardian.
From the moment we both learned the truth, Marcus had still kept an eye on me. First to see what I wanted with him, and then to save my life. I might have been angry with him, but I had to acknowledge that he had saved my life. More than once now. So it was hard to imagine that not even a full week ago, I had shot him.
And you can't get him out of your head now.
I kept thinking about every touch, every look, every nuanced kiss. I even played every date back on a mental reel trying to pinpoint the lies, where they were, how I'd missed them. I turned over again, adjusting my pillow and double-checking to make sure my weapon was there and loaded.
I didn’t want to be caught off guard again.
You weren't even caught off guard then. They just sent six men to kill you. It took two of you to take them all down.
But the fact that I'd been surprised at all, that it hadn't even occurred to me that something like that could happen, that someone could get to me, shook me to my core.
Sure, in my line of work, you always knew you might die in the field. And maybe, just maybe, someone might get access to your information, but we were buried under so many layers of security that it was extremely unlikely. But still, I had been caught unaware, unprepared. Because I hadn't even thought it was a possibility. I'd let myself get complacent. Let myself believe that I couldn't be hit. Well, that was wrong. I had been targeted, so it was time to get my act together.
Why did I have Marcus on the brain? I should have been thinking about lots of other things. Who betrayed me, who was coming after me, all the things. Instead, my laser focus was pinned on one man. The way he made me feel and the way he made me ache. And the way he smelled. Like the ocean. Clean, crisp.
You want him.
I did. I wasn't going to lie to myself. There was no hiding it. I wanted to be with him. We were good together, but could I be with someone I couldn't trust? Maybe. I didn't know. I didn't know anything about him. Who he was, what he needed. He was a blank slate.
That's not true. You know him.
It didn't feel that way. The man in the other room had the smile of someone familiar, the laugh I'd grown to look forward to. But I didn't know him. How could I? Everything he'd ever told me was a fabrication.
Be real with yourself. Everything you told him was a lie too. So, how do you two be honest with each other?
Maybe starting with being honest about something that I wanted.
I tossed the covers off, unable to take it anymore. Was I going to do this?
You're a healthy woman, with a healthy libido. So it's perfectly natural. Just go get what you want. And when you finally scratch the itch again, you can start thinking with your brain.
Maybe I just needed to get it out of my system.
Although, there was a small part of my brain willing and ready to call me out for my nonsense. I was telling myself that it would just be this one last time. Would it be though? Or would I just be weak again later and need his hands on me all over again.
In the end, I decided I didn't care.
I padded out into the living room, but something stopped me at the threshold. And it wasn't whether or not this was a bad idea as much as the constant, persistent thought of wondering if I had just been a mark to him. What if none of what I was feeling, none of that connection, was real?
Tyler really did a number on us, huh?
But after several deep breaths, I decided I didn't care. Marcus was here. He was the one on my mind. It didn't have to mean anything.
Uh-huh. Lies. All lies.
But I turned off that voice, opened the door, and walked through.
Marcus turned immediately with his gun at the ready. “What's wrong?”
“I couldn't sleep.”
His gaze raked over me. I was wearing a lot more than the last time he'd seen me in bed clothes. This time my tank had a built-in bra, so at least my nips weren't going to make an appearance demanding his attention.
“I'll ask again. You can't sleep, so what's wrong?”
I licked my lips, unsure of what to say. “You were on my mind.”
His gaze went instantly hooded. The corner of his lips tugged up into a smile. “Is that right? I thought I was persona non grata.”
Of course he would make me ask. He wasn’t going to make this easy on me. “Lately I like you a lot better when you're not talking.”
He grinned. “It's funny, but I like you a lot better when you are.”
I stalked over to him, recognizing that each step took me further and further away from sanity and closer and closer to the point of no return. I knew I would face consequences. The thing was, I didn't care.
When I reached him, he holstered his weapon. “Lyra, you're looking at me with sin in your eyes. So I have to ask, are you sure you want to do this?”
I swallowed hard, meeting his deep blue gaze. “I still don't trust you.”
He nodded and swallowed as he focused on my lips. “Right. But I'm going to repeat my question. So are you sure you want to do this?”
I nodded slowly. “I've decided I don't care.”
“Fuck yes.” He muttered as he turned and pulled me into his arms. And instead of quickly turning me around and slamming me against the door like I was prepared for, his free hand cupped my cheek, and his thumb smoothed over my cheekbone. “I know you don't trust me, but you can take me at my word. I'm not going to hurt you.”
And then he slammed his lips on mine. Breaking that very promise with the searing burn of his kiss.
* * *
Marcus
She was in my arms.
Just like I'd been imagining since that night on the floor in my old flat. Did she come to me because she wanted me, wanted what we had, that burning all-consuming fire? I could give that to her. I could give her more, too.
Except she was skittish.
But I was so desperate for her, that I wasn't sure how much gentleness I had in me. I wasn't sure how easy it would be to go slow.
Oh, we're not going slow.
Lyra took me by surprise, her tongue sliding over mine, her arms reaching up and looping around my neck. I knew taking her to the bedroom might not work. She wanted to keep things impersonal.
But I was going to show her that it didn't matter the location, didn't matter the time, the two of us were always going to be personal. Intimate. It was always going to mean something. I just needed her to catch on to that idea.
I lifted her easily, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. Our tongues slid over each other, a slide and retreat, a coaxing. A game. She made these little whimpering sounds at the back of her throat as my hands slid into her hair, anchoring her just how I needed her. She kept using her legs as leverage, trying to climb higher on my body. Trying to work her hips, her core, against the steel rod of my length.
I knew the layout of the room, so I made my way easily to the couch and avoided any major calamity without even having to break our kiss. Then I eased myself down with her on top of me. Once I sank down, she readjusted her legs so that she was braced on her knees, sitting on top of me. My hands settled onto her ass, bringing her over me in a slow, sliding ride.
We both moaned into each other's mouths as the friction lit us on fire.
Hell, if I'd have known it would be like this, I'd have been making out with her a lot more often. The grinding of her hips brought me closer and closer to her heat. I could feel her. She needed me just as much as I needed her.
Despite my attempts to take it slow, Lyra began to work herself faster, faster, and faster. When I dragged my lips back along her jaw, I said, “Slow down.”
Her pants were harsh against the shell of my ear. “No, I don't want to.”
“One of these days, you're going to learn to listen to me.”
My hands clamped down on her hips tightly, and even though she fought me a little, I changed the cadence. Rolling her slowly. She gave me a low, frustrated whimper and then growled, “Hurry up.”
“No. If you want to use me, you’ll have to use me how I like.”
“Asshole.”
I grinned at that. “Oh, I'm pretty sure you like it like this too.”
Staring into my eyes, she rocked on top of me, and I gazed down to the swell of her cleavage just over her tank top.
When I was certain she would adhere to the momentum rules, I eased up my grip on her hips, sliding my hands up under her tank and then helping her remove it. Sliding it up, up, up, showcasing the expanse of dark bronze skin glowing in the moonlight. And when I slid the tank up over her breasts, she hissed, and I moaned. Her tits were full and round. And they liked to point at me as if they were a beacon beckoning me home.
“God, your breasts are gorgeous.”
I could hear the humor in her voice. “And they taste better than they look when you put your mouth around one of the nipples.”
“You sure do love giving me directions.”
“Stop arguing.”
“Yeah, you know what, I might stop arguing, but I'm still going to do things my way.”
I slid my hands up her rib cage and palmed both her breasts, testing the weight, slowly rubbing my thumbs over her nipples, and she gave me a whimpering moan. “Marcus. Oh God.”
“Yeah, love, you feel so good.”
She kept writhing on me and at one point, I started to feel like my dick was wrestling for control of my mind.
The zinging sensations in my spine were a warning. Oh fuck, she was going to make me come like this.
Still cupping her breasts, I shifted my weight and gently turned her over so that I lay on top of her on the couch.
I settled my hips between hers, and she wrapped her legs around my waist again as we went back to kissing, sliding my tongue into her warm depths as one of my hands kept teasing her nipples, the other bracing myself above her so I didn't crush her.
I gave her nibbling kisses along her jaw, her neck. Inhaling deeply her scent of coconut and lime. Kissing down her clavicle and then the insides of her breasts.
She moaned. “Don't tease me, please. I'm begging you, Marcus.”
“Oh God, yeah, I do love it when you beg.”
Her hands tugged impatiently at my T-shirt, which I obliged by reaching behind my head and then pulling it up and over.
When I was bare chested, her brows lifted and her eyes gleamed. “That's better.” Her hands reached up and slid up over my pecs, across my clavicle bone, over my shoulders and down, gently squeezing my biceps. “Pretty, so pretty.”
I laughed softly then. “Glad you like what you see.” From there it was the fight of who could touch more first. Nip here, slide a tongue over. She leaned up and grazed one of my nipples with her teeth. I thought that shocking volt of electricity was going to kill me. Incinerate me from the inside out. “Good God, woman.”
She didn't let up though. She did it again and again, and it didn't matter how much I wanted control, how much I wanted to go slow. She was breaking me with exquisite torture, and she knew it.
I slid a hand into the bottom of her pajama shorts and into her panties, hesitating just for a moment as I lifted my gaze to hers and said, “Open wide.”
“I'm pretty open now.”
“Wider,” I growled. When she did as I asked, I slid my finger gently over her clit, and her hips raised, trying to give me better access. But I wasn't giving her what she wanted exactly. Instead, I teased. The very tip of my middle finger circled her opening as I lifted my gaze to watch her reaction.
Her lips parted, her hips raised, her breasts thrust up in the sky, taunting me. She whispered, “Oh God. Oh please, don't play with me.”
“Oh, sweetheart, we're barely getting started. I plan to play with you a lot.”
Except the thing was, once I gently pushed with my middle finger and felt her inner walls tightly squeeze around that digit, my brain short-circuited.
It wasn't my fault. It can happen to anyone. But there went the last scraps of my control. The last threads of what I could do or think or say. And all I could think about was getting inside her. Making her ready, even wetter.
My finger slick, I stroked inside, slid out. Back inside, sliding out again. When I retreated, she gasped and reached for me. “No. Don't stop.”
Smiling down on her, I slid in two fingers. Stretching her, making her ready.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “Marcus please, please, please, please, we can go slow later. I promise. Can we just… faster.”
“Are you sure? Because I plan to tease you for hours. Like you've been doing to me.”
“I haven't been teasing you. Marcus, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you can tease me later, please, please, please.”
I liked her begging. I liked her wet. I liked the way that she clawed at my shoulders. I liked the way she panted my name. I wanted it all.
The more she writhed, the more I took. Adding my thumb to the mix, always keeping her just on the edge. “Is that what you want? Faster?” And then I eased my fingers out of her, reaching for her shorts and her panties and tugging them down in one swift yank.
As she gasped, I gave her no time. I dove in. My hands on her arse, my shoulders very deliberately widening her thighs. And I licked. A firm stroke from her ass to the top of her clit. And then I fastened my mouth around her clit and sucked.
Her gasping scream was all the encouragement I needed. She writhed in my arms. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Holy cow. Marcus, please, wow.” And then her hands were in my hair. That stinging burn of her tugging on my scalp made me grin as I hummed a little. Lyra thrashed in my arms, her hips gyrating. Her juices running over my tongue, my face, my lips. Oh, but I wasn't done. I gently released her clit only to slide down an inch and use my tongue on her just like I'd used my fingers. Fucking her gently, stroking her. Worshiping her pussy like I should have
always.
And with my thumb I stroked over her clit again and again and again. Her legs quivered, and I could feel them clamping around my head and my shoulders until she had me locked in place.
The tighter she squeezed, the more I licked and fucked her.
Her hips raised off the couch, and she must've been gripping onto the armrest because she kept screaming, “Marcus. Marcus, oh my God.”
It was only as she eased down that I pulled back even remotely.
As I sat back, she lay limp, her legs still wide open, teasing me, taunting me. Lyra's eyes fluttered closed, and the look on her face was pure splendor.
I loved putting that look on her face. And I planned to do it again.
When I stood, she whimpered. “You're not done here.”
All I could do was laugh. “Oh, trust me. You need a break, and I'm most certainly not done.” She lifted her lids and watched me warily.
When I unsnapped the top button of my jeans, her lips lifted into an impish smile. “That's more like it.”
“Oh, is this you thinking you're in control now?”
She drew her legs together and I frowned. “No, I want them open.”
“Well, for what I had in mind, that position's awkward.”
“We're not done here, Lyra.”
“Who said anything about being done?”
As I reached for my zipper, her fingers reached out to help me. She shoved my jeans and boxers down over my hips and then licked her lips as she sat forward. Just watching that small motion, my whole body went to steel. Oh God. She was in charge. And she knew it.
She leaned forward and, with the tip of her tongue, licked my dick from the tip to the base.
I was completely helpless to do anything other than drop my head back and moan out, “Fuck.”
Then I could feel her fingers wrap around the base, and I dared a look down, praying to God I didn't just come all over her face.
Then she shifted again. Driving me insane, she knew what she was doing. Knew she was teasing me, torturing me, as she sat back and winked, and I knew I was toast. She was doing this on purpose. Fucking with me. Trying to make me lose my goddamn mind.