The Real Thing

by Marina Simcoe

  “How?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief.

  He shrugged.

  “When you touch me, it’s like a blast of minty-cool air that calms the fire under my skin. I noticed it the first time when you touched my hand in the limo the night I took you home after the show, then again when I kissed you and you touched my hair here in your bedroom the next morning. It has to be a certain type of touch though,” he added.

  “Like what?”

  “Well, let’s say the friendly, holding-hands type, wouldn’t do it,” he winked.

  “So, like this then?” I lifted my hand and laid it flat against the hard muscles of his chest. I traced the well-defined edges of his pectorals with the tips of my fingers and let my thumb brush against his nipple. His breath caught and I did it again, moving my thumb back and forth.

  “Just like that…” he said, holding completely still.

  “This makes the fire go away?” I gave him a teasing smile and moved my hand lower, along the firm ridges of his six-pack.

  “It does,” he replied in a low voice. His abdominal muscles rippled and flexed under my fingers. “There is a side effect though… It makes another type of fire build up elsewhere.”

  “Well,” I said slowly, tracing the thin trail of short, ink-black hair from his navel down along the middle of his lower stomach, “the trick is then to keep the fine balance between the two.”

  “Yeah. Except that…” he cleared his throat. “You make it… harder.”

  I shot a quick look down. “I can see that.”

  “Much harder!” he exhaled sharply and grabbed my wrist, stopping my hand from moving any further.

  I looked up at him in surprise.

  “That’s a good thing. Isn’t it?” I asked cheerfully.

  “The best,” he smiled at me then moved my hand to his lips for a quick kiss in the middle of my palm. “Usually, I don’t ever let the fever go this far,” he changed the subject, still holding my hand lest it strayed south again. “I just… I got too busy with working on the opening act, which by the way is still not ready. I will have to push it back for now. Anyway, I couldn’t go to my ranch house like I normally would. There’s an issue with some suspicious vans and cars hanging around the place twenty-four-seven. Probably some paparazzi got my address mixed up with an address of some real celebrity. Simon is working on it right now. Anyway, the provisions for my impromptu street performances were cut from my contract after the Toronto show. I’m no longer allowed to do any street acts for free. This was one of their conditions to let me do the show in Toronto in the first place.”

  “I’m sorry.” I shouldn’t be apologizing for Toronto show, because he did it on his own. However, I also felt oddly responsible because he did it for me — to find me — and I felt bad that he had to give up certain things in order to do it, even as I felt flattered that he did.

  He smiled. “I’m not. I’m not sorry at all. I’d do it again. And again.” His hand travelled down the side of my body until it went up the curve of my hip and then around my backside. “For this.” He squeezed my ass and pulled my hips closer to his. “And this.” He kissed my lips. “And this.” He placed another kiss on the side of my neck.

  “Marcus…” I whispered, melting into his touch and kisses all over again. Now that there was no immediate danger to his health and wellbeing, I was able to relax completely and enjoy the tenderness of his caresses.

  “I didn’t want you to see me like that. But it’s impossible for me to stay away from you for long,” he exhaled into the valley between my breasts. “I’m not sure when it happened, but I need you like the air I breathe now.” He hooked his arm under my knee and lifted my leg over his hip. I felt his hardness against my thigh, and I flexed my leg, bringing him flush against me.

  “There’s no need to stay away from me,” I whispered breathlessly. “I need you too, Marcus. More than anything…”

  He groaned and rocked his erection into me.

  “Condom.”

  “What?” I breathed out, my brain having shut down any logical thought already, focusing only on his mouth at my breast and on his hand moving between my legs.

  “Do you have a condom? Or should I get some from home?” Marcus rasped out, letting go off my nipple for a second.

  “Mmhmm.” Without looking, I fished out one of the few condoms left in my nightstand from the time of my relationship with Matt. God, it’s been so long since I had a man in my bed!

  “Here,” I handed it to Marcus.

  He pushed off the mattress and stood up on his knees in bed, looking down at me as he rolled the condom on. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his thick mane of hair draped over his wide shoulders, and his eyes flashed wild from behind the coal-black tresses hanging over his face.

  “Come here,” he covered my body with his and entered me at once, making me gasp in surprise as pleasure spread inside of me like melting butter.

  All I could whisper was his name as I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck. “Marcus…” I bucked my hips up, meeting him, letting him all in, entreating him to move. I needed him to move! Harder. Faster. But he pushed his hips down, pinning me in place and held still over me; his forehead pressed into my shoulder.

  “I can’t,” he exhaled with a pained groan. “With you… Right now… I won’t last a second.”

  “Then don’t,” I nuzzled his ear impatiently. “Let it go, Marcus.”

  His shoulders stiffened under my hands, and I could feel his whole body shake with the effort to control himself. The effort, I couldn’t understand the reason for.

  “It’s okay, honey,” I slid my hands up and down his back, willing his muscles to relax.

  He lifted his head off my shoulder and met my eyes.

  “You mean so much to me, Angela. So, so much,” he shook his head; his eyes fixed on mine with alarming intensity. “I don’t ever want to be without you.”

  “You don’t ever have to, Marcus. I’m right here.” I patted his cheek and traced one thick eyebrow with my thumb. His look was too tense, too severe. I felt that some profound emotions were churning inside of him; I wished he would tell me what they were. “What is it, Marcus? What is bothering you?”

  He blinked and moved his gaze away.

  “Nothing,” he kissed my nose, my forehead, my cheekbones. “You’re right. You’re here. It’s all that matters.”

  His arms circled around me, and he rolled us over as he continued to cover my body with his warm tender kisses, inch by inch, ripping to pieces any defences I had ever built around my heart, layer by layer.

  At some point, I didn’t notice exactly when, he slipped out of me. His hand took the place of his erection between my thighs, and his deft fingers expertly worked my body inside and out, reaping orgasm after orgasm from me in a seemingly endless, blissful, sweet torment.

  18. After the “Night of Debauchery.”

  It was Sunday, the day when I didn’t have to start working at the store until noon. The only day when I didn’t need to set my hated alarm clock.

  I woke up to the familiar comforting noise of the street traffic below my apartment and to the bright ray of sunshine warming up my face through the bedroom window.

  Somebody’s leg was draped across my hip. Marcus. He stayed the night! And I didn’t mind it a bit that he slept in my bed with me. On the contrary, I actually liked it. I snuggled closer to him, enjoying the feel of having him here. Apparently, my hard-to-break habit of sleeping alone wasn’t that hard to break at all. Marcus had done it using a few well-placed kisses and some well-timed touches. I slept like a baby!

  “Coffee?” he whispered groggily in my hair, his arms tightening around me.

  “Shhh. You sleep. I’ll make some.” I moved to get up.

  “Why would you make it if I can just make it happen?” He opened one eye and peered at me through the curtain of dark messy hair in front of his face.

  “It’s still too early for you to get up.” I sat on the bed in f
ront of him and moved the hair away from his face. “Anyway, if you do get up, I’d need to spend at least an hour to brush this mess on your head.”

  He ignored my comment for now and looked like he was considering something for a second.

  “I slept well.” His brows furrowed in thought. “Weird. But I did.”

  His eyes flickered to my nightstand briefly, and a delicious smell of fresh coffee filled the room.

  “Thank you.” I picked up the paper cup from the nightstand. “Mmm. Coffee. So good! You know, I don’t understand how you don’t weigh like a thousand pounds by now. If you don’t even need to get up to make a coffee, what stops you from sitting on the couch somewhere, ‘making things happen’ for yourself, while you’re doing absolutely nothing?”

  His reply came quickly, making me think that he had thought about it before and had already answered this question to himself.

  “When your magic can do absolutely everything for you, it’s the things that you can do on you own that really become important. I think I appreciate the simple pleasures of doing things myself more because I have a choice whether to do them or not. In theory, I could teleport anywhere, but in reality it’s often much more enjoyable just to walk down the street to a coffee shop in the traditional way, by putting one foot in front of the other,” he smiled and added casually. “Magic or not, anyone can make coffee at home, cheaper and faster than going to a coffee shop, right? Why are there still so many coffee shops then?” Without waiting for my answer to this obviously rhetorical question, he stretched in bed and got up. “Well, I’m not sleepy any more. I think I’ll take you up on your offer to brush my hair.”

  He lifted his arm and the second cup of coffee floated from the nightstand into his hand.

  “It wasn’t an offer. It was a threat!” I laughed and got out of bed, too.

  Something crinkled under my foot, and I picked up the ripped condom wrapper. My eyes then went to Lannister, who walked into the room at that moment.

  “Oh, my God! Poor Lannister!” I covered my mouth with my hand, mortified by the sight of the used condom stuck to the fur on the side of my cat! “This must constitute animal abuse somewhere!”

  I reached for the cat and managed to snatch the condom off him before he ducked under my hand and bee-lined straight to Marcus’s ankles.

  “What a night of debauchery took place in your bedroom, Miss McAllister!” Marcus laughed and bent over to scratch behind Lannister’s ears.

  “How did it even get there?” I shook my head.

  “He slept with us.”

  “He did what?” I couldn’t believe my ears. I had no idea where Lannister usually slept at night. It was definitely not in the pet bed I got for him and most certainly not anywhere near my bedroom — until last night, it seemed. Another new one for Lannister!

  “He came in this morning and slept on top of our feet,” Marcus explained. “Purred pretty loud too.”

  His eyes flickered to the condom in my hand, and he stretched his hand across the bed to me, “I’ll get rid of it. It’s my mess after all. Sorry, I have no idea how I forgot about it last night.”

  “Well, you were rather busy,” I smiled. “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

  It made no sense to give it back to him — the bathroom door was right behind me.

  Still smiling and shaking my head in disbelief, I walked to the bathroom to get rid of the condom along with the foil wrapper. As I tossed them both in the bin, it didn’t escape my attention that the condom was empty.

  Apparently, during the “night of debauchery,” the pleasure was all mine.

  ***

  Since that night, Marcus no longer bothered obeying any rules about invading my bedroom or my bed. Whenever he had a chance, he would show up before my alarm went off and climb in bed with me.

  Most mornings, he slipped under the covers behind me quietly and held me close. Before long, I got used to having him in my bed and grew to love the feeling of his warm chest at my back.

  I still preferred to sleep naked, but he didn’t seem to mind it. Through his boxers, I felt his excitement pressed hard to my back or my thigh often, but he usually didn’t go any further than a few gentle hugs and some light kisses. For the most part, he just let me sleep until the alarm.

  Whenever we did get more intimate than just kissing, it was always all about me. If I attempted to return the favour, he would stop my hand reaching for him or lift my face lowered towards his lap and then switch all attention back to me again.

  For now, I told myself not to worry and to enjoy his affection instead. He was a selfless lover, every girl’s dream. I had nothing to complain about. Our relationship was progressing; it just needed a little time until it moved up another step. I desperately wished to believe there was nothing to be concerned about between us.

  19. Girl Power.

  I woke up from a deep sleep, struggling to figure out what woke me up. Marcus was not there yet, and I couldn’t remember having any dreams, but I was wide awake for some reason.

  Then I heard it. A scream, followed by a loud argument, came from my slightly open bedroom window.

  It was late November and it was cold outside. The snow hadn’t fallen yet, but the temperatures reached well below freezing at night. My apartment building had central heating that I had no control over, and it grew way too hot inside most of the season, especially now, when I often had Marcus to keep my bed warm. So I left the window ajar through the night to have some fresh air in my bedroom.

  I could clearly hear the noise of a struggle that seemed to be happening in the visitors’ lot next to my building. I got out of bed, wrapped the bed sheet around me, and padded towards the window.

  A slim blonde woman — very young, probably in her late teens or early twenties — was cornered by two guys in the empty parking lot. The guys’ voices were way too low for me to hear what they were saying, but I heard the girl’s high-pitched voice when she shrieked, “Get your hands off me! You assholes!”

  In our early days of living in this apartment, Emily and I witnessed a number of fights in and around our building. We even had to call the police a few times. However, as the neighbourhood became the new up-and-coming area in the city, and developers showed interest in it, many rundown places had been repaired, rebuilt or demolished. Midnight arguments and fistfights were things of the past nowadays.

  Was this one caused by one of the still remaining prostitutes in the area? Was it a fight between her pimp and a prospective client?

  The girl wore high leather boots with spiky heels, and her short dress barely covered her panties; however, something about her didn’t fit with what I knew about women of the world’s oldest profession. She lacked the confidence in the situation; instead, she looked scared and out of place in the parking lot at night. In any case, it was obvious, the two guys weren’t fighting each other — they both were attacking her.

  The guys were visibly drunk, unsteady on their feet. Their movements were clumsy and uncoordinated when they tried to grope her. The girl also appeared either drunk or stoned as she swung her purse at them and swatted their hands away, barely keeping balance on her super-high heels.

  Regardless of how intoxicated the two guys were, the girl didn’t stand a chance! It was just a matter of time before things turned from bad to worse.

  I cursed under my breath and stepped away from the window, resolved to call the police. My back hit the rock-hard wall of muscle, and I jumped in surprise.

  “Marcus!” I exhaled with relief when I realized that it was his chest that I bumped into.

  “Did I scare you?” he wrapped his arms around my waist.

  “You know,” I held my hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart, “I’m going to get you a collar with a little bell, like Lannister’s, so that I get some warning when you show up!”

  “Mmmm,” he murmured into my hair, “if it’s a black leather collar with spikes, and if you get a matching one for yourself, I might consider act
ually wearing it. It has possibilities —”

  Another high-pitched scream came from the window, and I twisted out of his arms.

  “I need to call the police right away!”

  “What’s going on?” Marcus made a step to the window and took in the scene below.

  I already had the cell phone in my hand, dialing 911, when he stopped me by grabbing my wrist right before I pushed the last button.

  “It will take them some time to get here,” he said calmly, all playfulness completely gone from his voice.

  He kept his eyes on the girl who was being held by one of the guys. His arms were around her middle, pressing her arms to her body. The second guy looked like he was trying to tear the front of her dress apart, except that his hands refused to obey him, and he ended up losing grip on it over and over again. With her arms immobilized, the girl kicked her feet at both guys randomly, but had yet to hit any target.

  Suddenly, her leg jerked, and she stepped down on the foot of the guy holding her, firmly planting the spiky heel of her boot through the front of his running shoe.

  “Argh! You bitch!” howled the injured guy, loud enough for us to hear, and bent over in pain, letting the girl go. She stumbled away a couple of paces with her eyes fixed on the screaming guy.

  The second drunk used the moment to advance on her. Without looking, the girl swung her arm out, unsteadily, and hit him square in the jaw. The impact of her blow threw him into the air, and he hit the pavement with a loud grunt several feet away from her.

  “What the fuck!” he yelled and rolled onto his stomach. He made several attempts to get up to his feet but only managed to get on all fours.

  Only then the girl realized that her attacker was on the ground, and she looked in confusion at her hand that had hit him.

  “Leave her alone! You, scum!” A loud girlish voice, ringing high with emotion, came along with the sound of screeching tires, as a small white car pulled into the parking lot at full speed.