"Miss Warbird," the reporter said, swinging his little tape recorder away from me. "Anything you want to say to the people?"
Sophie smiled, and I could see the reporter's eyes glitter, enchanted. I could understand the sentiment. The three months we'd spent abroad had allowed her to blossom. She was pretty confident before, smart and lively, and sexy as hell, but now all of those qualities were dialed up to eleven. She had become the type of woman who walks into a room, and everyone stops to see what she's doing. What self-consciousness she did have before seemed to have disappeared. I had to intentionally become overly bombastic and attention grabbing just to get the first comments from people. "Well, like Marcus said, I'm glad to be here," Sophie said. "I'm a huge fan of football, and let's face it, no team has better fans than the Spartans."
The reporter smiled and nodded. He looked like he was getting ready to ask another question, but Sophie cut him off. "I'd love to talk more, but I'm very excited to see our new home. Maybe your office can contact us directly later?"
"Sure," the news guy said, mollified. He took out his business card and handed it to Sophie, who passed it along to me. "I know our style editor would love to talk with you about that hair."
Outside the airport, our rented BMW was waiting for us. It was one of the most frustrating parts about assuming the new identity of Marcus Smiley. As Mark Snow, I had various cars, properties, and other equipment ready for use. But, since the Confederation and probably Owen Lynch knew where most of it was, my tools were reduced to what I had in the Mount Zion belfry, and purchasing new equipment. A lot of it, like guns, was easily replaced, if a bit of a hassle. There was some of it though that was very difficult to replicate or replace.
"You know, I miss the Electric Dream Machine," Sophie said as we pulled away. I nodded. My all-electric Mercedes was one of the most noticeable trademarks of Mark Snow. It had gotten to the point that I didn't even need to do much more than drive it by the business or house of my target and they would fold. That is, if intimidation was my goal. Floating by silently, the blue GT-S got attention. Sadly, I'd never get to drive it again, it had been sold off through a third party, the funds donated to a charity to throw off any traces. I liked that car, too.
"Well, now that we're back in town, we'll see about getting something for each of us," I said. "After all, as the newest socialite millionaire, we're supposed to do at least a bit of conspicuous consumption."
Thankfully, there were no reporters waiting outside the Mount Zion property. I pulled in, shutting down the engine and looking over at her. "Well, we're home."
Sophie smiled, then looked down at her hands. They're beautiful, with graceful fingers and hidden strength. Even two months of hard training in Eastern Europe hadn't marred their beauty to me, although she had appreciated the manicure we'd gotten in London during our one-day stopover on the way home. She seemed to struggle with what she wanted to say, then looked over from the passenger seat at me. "Did you mean it?"
"Mean what?" I asked, taking the keys out and slipping them into the pocket of the Italian sport coat I was wearing. "That we're supposed to do some conspicuous consumption?"
"No, in the airport," she said, looking like the shy, somewhat insecure Sophie I'd met almost four months ago. "You told the reporter that I'm your fiancée."
The revelation hit me like a thunderbolt. In all the hurry and stress of training, and then getting back to the city to implement our rushed plan, I hadn't found the time to do what is most important. "Get out of the car."
Sophie looked at me like I was crazy, but I just smiled and got out, going around to her side. Opening her door, I held out my hand and helped her out before dropping to a knee. It was still a bit early, but I knew this woman was for me. I’d never met anyone like her, and when I know I want something, I’m not the type of man to waste time. “Sophie White…Warbird, will you marry me?"
Sophie blinked, and I could see the shine of tears in her eyes before she nodded. "Of course, you idiot," she said, pulling me to my feet and embracing me. Kisses rained down on my cheeks, and she jumped into my arms. "Now, take me into our new home and seal the deal."
"Mmmmm, yes ma'am," I teased, holding her easily as we headed towards the front door. "I just hope the renovations are complete."
Chapter 21
Sophie
Sadly, the renovations weren't complete, so Mark's initial idea of taking me into our new bedroom didn't work. Instead, he carried me up the steps to the bell tower, to the small strike base that we'd used to save Tabby from the Confederation. The entrance was still secret, as according to the plans we gave the contractor, the tower was sealed off. Never setting me down, Mark walked the distance from what had been the rectory to our hiding place. "Can you hit the switch, please?" he asked, pointing with his nose to the small, almost invisible button embedded into the wood beams of the tower. "My hands are wonderfully full."
You don't know how much of a turn on it is to be held in arms as strong as Mark's. I could barely feel a tremor of effort as he carried me up the thirty two stairs to the top of the tower. I could feel the bulge of his biceps against my back and under my legs, and the thick swell of his chest muscles against my side as he carried me, smiling at me the whole way. "Thank you," he said while he climbed. "You don't know how every day I'm grateful that you came into my life and saved me. You're making me into a better man, and for that I am eternally indebted."
"I love you," I replied, kissing him. He never lost a step, carrying me over to the thin mattress we had set up in one corner of the room at the top of the tower. He knelt and laid me down gently, kissing my lips before taking his arms out from underneath me. I giggled then sneezed, looking around. "We need to dust up here."
"It'll work for now," Mark replied, sitting down and taking off his sport coat. He was wearing a plain white button down shirt underneath, and simple charcoal gray slacks. Starting at the top, he took off his shirt, letting each inch exposed add to my growing excitement. "Well, aren't you going to join me?"
I looked down at my outfit, a light smock like blouse and designer jeans. Biting my lip, I ran my hands up and over my breasts, shaking my head. "I was thinking maybe I'd enjoy being stripped instead," I said. "Unless you don't want me naked."
"No, that wouldn't do," he replied, standing up. Finishing with his shirt, he pulled it off slowly, revealing his rippling torso. His new tattoos were dark against his skin, another part of his new identity as Marcus Smiley. With a Airborne Ranger tattoo on his left shoulder and a few other designs on his back, he looked different, but still the same love shone in his eyes. He gave me the same familiar smirk as his hands froze by the fastener of his pants, his eyebrow going up as he looked at me. "Should I take these off?"
"Please," I said, my breath thick in my chest. How is it that watching the sexiest man in the world makes it feel like you're breathing pleasant syrup?
"Since you said the magic word," Mark said, opening his pants and letting them fall to the floor. His cock was already semi-hard inside his boxer briefs, and he knelt down, crawling over to me.
Starting with my feet, he pulled my open-toed high heels off one by one, kissing and licking up my leg, starting at my feet. The feel of his tongue sliding up my leg sent heat straight through my body, and I groaned in anticipation. Kissing down the sole of my foot, he laid my feet together on the mattress so he could reach up and unsnap my jeans. My hips jerked in need as he pulled the form fitting denim down my legs, kissing my thighs as he went, skipping the ticklish area below my right kneecap and setting the jeans beside us on the floor. "You are more beautiful than ever," he whispered as he lifted my right foot up, kissing my calf muscle and working his way down to let his tongue lick behind my kneecap.
I don't know what the nerve connection is, but it felt like his tongue was just outside my pussy, and I could barely contain myself. "I need you."
"You have me," I replied, spreading my legs and letting the scent of my wetness flood the room. "Forever."<
br />
Mark answered by kneeling between my legs, kissing the soft skin above the waistband of my panties. Working his way up, he unbuttoned my top while his lips found all the little places that four months of lovemaking had allowed him to discover. He paused just below the cups of my bra, skipping my breasts to finish his unbuttoning and pulling my top off. Propped above me on his elbows, I could feel the warm thick bulge of his cock pushing against my panties, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. "So beautiful," he whispered before kissing me.
Our lips and tongues twisted and caressed each other, his hips working in small circles between my legs, rubbing and building electricity between us. Mark always favored compression style boxer briefs, the Lycra-like fabric sliding over my cotton bikini briefs and causing both of us to stop our kisses, small gasps filling the silence of the tower. Mark pulled back and knelt, letting his hands come to the front clasp of my bra. "May I?"
I was touched and moved by the sincere honesty in his voice. Here he was, the most powerful and sexual man I'd ever known, who literally could bring life or death with a single touch, and he was asking if he could take off my bra, even though we'd made love dozens of times before and he already knew the answer. "Yes," I said, placing my hands over his. "I'm yours."
I let go of Mark's hands and he undid the clasp tenderly, exposing my breasts to the warm air of the belfry. They felt full and heavy, and I could see my lover's eyes draw to them, even as his hands trailed down my body to take a hold of the waistband of my panties. He blinked and grinned, looking for all the world like a little boy who just found his favorite thing in the world before him.
Mark slid my panties off before pulling his own briefs down, his hard cock bouncing in the golden afternoon sunlight. My own lips spread in a smile, as I saw the thing I enjoyed most in the world before me. "Very nice, Mr. Smiley."
We both laughed, and Mark took his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly as he brought it closer and closer to my lips. It was so erotic to watch as he traced the blunt head up and down my lips, gathering my moisture on the pink tip of his cock. When he dragged it over my clit, a deep guttural rumble started in my chest and echoed through the room. He looked into my desperate eyes and nodded, lining himself up. "Hard or soft?"
"Hard," I barely whispered, "Give it to me rough" I added, after catching my breath.
Mark didn't disappoint, sliding himself in with one long, hard thrust that drove the breath from my lungs and sent sparks through my vision. Pausing just long enough for the flashes to dim, he pulled my legs up over his shoulders, pushing me deep into the mattress and pulling back before using his weight and the strength of his hips to pound into me, sheets of fiery lust coursing from down below all the way to my head. With my knees almost into my chest, I could only breathe in small, shallow sips of precious air, the lack of oxygen soon adding its own euphoric effect to the erotic buildup of energy.
I'm not into the whole erotic asphyxiation stuff, but if it was like this, then I guess I can understand the reason some people like it. There, pinned underneath Mark's muscular body, I could only submit to his power and his control. Pulling my arms up and over my head helped, giving me a bit more room, and I held my wrists there, crossed over my head. Mark's cock never stopped, the deep slaps of our hips creating a sharp cadence in counterpoint to my breathing and the rush of blood in my ears. His face was framed by what should have been the ridiculous sight of my feet and ankles next to his ears, but the look in his eyes bore deep into my heart and soul.
There is a reason that English has so many different words to describe the way that people can engage in sexual contact. I'm not talking just about words that describe the different actions or combinations. I mean the variations that carry with them the undertone of emotional content. Mark and I had done all of the consensual ones in the four months we'd been together. We'd fucked, we'd humped, we'd banged, we'd had sex, but this was my favorite. Despite the outer violence of our bodies slamming together, and the harsh sound of our breath as we both rushed towards our much needed climax, we were making love. The emotion in his eyes told me everything I ever needed to know about the man, and I could feel our souls come together and join, two becoming one.
My orgasm caught me by surprise, I was so lost in Mark's eyes and face. Suddenly, an explosion of pleasure ripped through me, my muscles clenching until it felt like a beautiful cramp flushed my entire body. I don't even know if I was making noise or not, my entire mind shut down temporarily from an overload of pleasure.
The next thing I could feel was Mark's body tightening and he let out a deep groan, his throat corded with effort as his own orgasm overtook him. I waited for Mark's breath to return before I gently pushed with my legs, the pleasure subsiding as my over-stretched muscles in my hips started calling for attention. "Oh, sorry," Mark said, climbing off of me and stretching out next to me on the narrow mattress. He gathered me in his arms and held me close, our scents mingling in the air. "I love you, my angel."
"I love you too," I whispered, letting my fingers play over his chest muscles. We lay like that for a few minutes before I worked up the nerve to voice my thoughts. "Mark?"
"Hmmm?" he asked, his chin in my hair. "Do you need to move?"
"No," I said, shifting to drape a thigh over his. "I wanted to ask you a question."
"Sure, go ahead."
"What would you think if I stopped taking my birth control?"
Chapter 22
Mark
Sophie's question rocked me even more than the orgasm I'd just had. Me? Possibly a father? I stuttered, rolling off the mattress. I went over to the refrigerator I had there, looking around inside for some of the bottled water that I had stashed. It was flat and stale, but it helped with my thirst as I thought.
I drained half the bottle before turning around, seeing Sophie sitting on the mattress with her knees pulled up to her chin, looking at me with her long purple hair hanging around her face like some sort of halo, her eyes filled with trepidation and fear. Even in my delay, I'd hurt her, but I didn't know what to say. I never thought a child would be possible for someone like me. I'd dreamed of it, and I'd even told Sophie that before, but I wasn't sure that day would ever come.
Finally, I drained the rest of my bottle and grabbed another to bring over to her. I knelt down and took her hands, clasping them in mine. "Sophie, it's not that I don't want to have a baby with you some day. I do. I most certainly do, and there's nobody in the world that I think would be a better mother than you. But.... right now I'm not sure I'm worthy of such a gift. I'm still an evil man, regardless of how redeeming your love is. I've still got a tab with the devil to account for. I have to make amends. The idea of having that debt passing onto a baby..... why would I ever be worthy of your love or your child?"
"So is that no?" she asked quietly, tears forming in her eyes. My heart broke, and I felt tears form in my own.
"Not a no, my love. Just.... we have to take care of some things before we can bring a child into our situation."
Sophie nodded, a single tear falling to trickle down one perfect cheek. While I knew she truly wanted to help rid the city of these criminals with me, I could also see she yearned for a normal life, something I'd taken from her when I fell for her. We sat there, side by side, and when she leaned into me, I held her and rocked her as the afternoon turned into an orange sunset.
* * *
Mark
"I've done some more investigating," Tabby said to us the next evening, as we met her for dinner at Guliano, one of the better Italian eateries in town that wasn't controlled by either the Confederation or Owen Lynch. Unfortunately, that meant it paid protection money to both organizations, and it showed in the decor. Guliano Dellacosta refused to let his food quality suffer, though, and I thought his lasagna was to die for. "Our deputy mayor is bringing in some out of town talent."
"Oh really?" I asked, keeping my voice low. Guliano had seated us in a booth, but since I was supposed to be famous, it wasn't a private co
rner one. Instead, everyone in the restaurant could see where I, Sophie and Tabby were sitting. Ostensibly, Tabby was there as our business consultant. She had her MBA now, and the firm she worked for did do real estate investing and venture capital marketing. She'd even brought along some information on real companies in the area, ones that she was reasonably sure were clean if I actually did want to invest.
I had to give the perky redhead credit, she was smarter than she let on a lot of the time. Sophie had told me her ditzy ginger act was just that, an act, but it was easy to forget even after having her live with us for a few weeks after her rescue. "Any idea who or what?"
Tabby nodded, and slid over a file folder. The outside read Zen Nail Salon, and I was going to remind Tabby to use real names and not sets from Breaking Bad when I opened it and found that there was, in fact, a nail salon named Zen just outside the city. Behind the business information, though, were two photographs that I slid out and looked over at Sophie. "They came in on an Aeroflot flight, but I don't know if that was because they are Russian or they just want to appear that way. I can't get into the Aeroflot data base, but a quick track of that flight number through their public information says the flight originated in Moscow before doing a stopover in Germany and then London before flying over here."
I nodded slowly and slid the photos back inside. "They're probably working for Lynch."
"Most likely. What are these guys if just two of them are supposed to unsettle the balance of power around here?"
I shook my head, and took another bite of my lasagna. "I'm not sure, but I have my suspicions."
Sophie, who had been quiet most of the day, took a sip of her red wine. I felt a twinge in my heart as I looked over at her. She was smiling and would talk when Tabby asked her something, but ever since our discussion the day before about having a baby, she'd been withdrawn. She wasn't brooding, but sad, which hurt even more because I knew I was the cause of her sadness. If there was a way I could take away the pain while still being honest, I would have. But I knew if I said yes just to please her, I'd not only poison our relationship, but I'd be bringing a child into a dangerous situation.
In Too Deep: A Romantic Suspense Novel Page 32