Marx Girl

by T L Swan

  We both moan.

  Oh, this is good—too good.

  He’s huge.

  He reaches up and, as his dark eyes hold mine he cups my breast, I slowly rise to my knees and slide back down. He hisses in approval.

  I build a rhythm, and I know he said he will hurt me, but hell, I’m going to hurt myself at this rate. I can’t get close enough. I can’t get him deep enough.

  “Fuck, Didge,” he pushes out as he closes his eyes, and I know he’s trying to stop himself from coming.

  “Give it to me,” I whimper.

  The next moment, he has flipped me onto my back and my legs are over his shoulders.

  He hits me with hard, deep, punishing drives and, unable to stand it, my body shudders as an orgasm rips through me like a freight train. I cry out.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  He growls as he pumps me fast and hard, and I don’t think I can stand it. I close my eyes, and then he holds himself still and shudders, releasing a guttural moan.

  We pant as we gasp for air.

  My sex throbs from the beating.

  Then he kisses me, soft and tender, and I smile as my hands go to his jaw. He lets go of my legs and they drop to his sides, so he can lie between them.

  We kiss softly, again and again, and it’s like we have a lifetime of kissing to make up for. He smiles against my lips and rolls us so that I am on top of him. I try to hop off, but he holds me still. “I’m staying inside of you for a lot longer than that, angel,” he whispers against my lips.

  My eyes search his. “You’ve been inside me all along, Ben.”

  We lie on our sides, facing each other.

  The room is lit only by my lamp, and our bodies are deeply sated. We’ve been making love for hours. Ben’s hand roams over my hip and around to my breast. The blanket pools around me on the bed.

  “I don’t want to talk about why we broke up,” I say.

  A frown crosses his face.

  “Yet…” I add.

  He smirks, adding in an eye roll. He knew I wouldn’t give up that easily, but I do want to get to know him a lot better. “Tell me about your first girlfriend,” I whisper.

  His face cups my breast, and he smiles as he shakes his head.

  I frown. “No?”

  “I mean no girlfriend.”

  “What?” I lean up onto my elbow to see him better. “You’ve never had a girlfriend?”

  He shakes his head softly as his hand roams over my body.

  “But…” I hesitate. “How the hell are you so sexually experienced if you’ve never… Oh.” I frown. “Don’t answer that,” I murmur.

  He smirks. “Probably best I don’t.” He leans in and kisses me softly. “I was young when I went into the army, and…” He pauses as he thinks back. “I was never in the position to do the dating thing. I mean,” He raises his eyebrows. “You don’t exactly invite a girl back to the barracks for dinner.”

  I run my hand down the stubble on his face as I listen to him. Any piece of information is like winning the lottery.

  “And then when I started travelling with the army, so I was never in the one place for a long time.” He frowns as his voice trails off. “I guess I never—”

  I cut him off with a kiss. “Ben,” I whisper. “Will you go out with me?”

  He frowns. “What?”

  I run my fingers through the hair on his chest. “Will you go out with me?” I smile, and kiss him again. “Will you be my boyfriend, Ben?” I ask playfully.

  He bites his bottom lip to hide his goofy smile. “If you behave.”

  I roll him onto his back and lean over him. His eyes glow with affection and I know that that just meant a lot to him. “What does a boyfriend have to do, exactly?” he asks as he narrows his eyes.

  “Dirty jobs.”

  His eyes hold mine.

  “Jobs that nobody else gets to do,” I whisper.

  He kisses me, and I feel his erection grow against my hip once more.

  “I am more than happy to do your dirty jobs.” His eyes dance with mischief.

  “That’s great. My washing is in the laundry. Three loads.” I smile against his lips.

  He laughs out loud and flips me so that I am under him again. He lifts my legs around his waist, and my eyes close as he slides home. “Let me finish this dirty job first before I start another.” He pumps me hard. “It might take a while.”

  We sit at the café and have just finished breakfast. It’s 8:30 and we are across the road from my office. I needed to duck in and pick up a few things before I leave for my overseas trip this afternoon. I was so distracted yesterday, I left my laptop and my phone charger at work. I’m going to need those both.

  I watch Ben eat the last of his pancakes, and I have to stop myself from smiling so hard that it shatters my cheeks.

  We made progress last night—a big leap of progress.

  I didn’t get any information, but I did get a commitment, even if I did have to do it in a light-hearted way.

  I’ve decided I’m going to let him tell me things in his own time. It’s crazy. He is so experienced sexually, but emotionally he’s so green. He doesn’t know how to trust or do this relationship thing. I’m the one who is going to teach him, and I’m not going anywhere. He has all the time in the world to feel safe enough to open up.

  At this point I just want to drink him in… every perfect inch of him.

  Ben makes me feel things that I didn’t know existed, and I’m all in.

  Whatever it takes, I’m going to do it.

  He’s the only one I want. I know that for sure now.

  “Come with me.” I smile.

  He frowns. “What?’

  “Get on the plane with me today. I will can the tour and we can go do our own three-week holiday.”

  He smiles, as if he’s actually considering it.

  I grab his hand over the table. “We can go to Scotland and Wales and…” I frown midsentence as I remember his and Cam’s little Loch Ness Monster story.

  “What?” He smirks.

  “Your Loch Ness Monster story is ruining it.” I roll my eyes.

  He chuckles into his coffee cup. “That’s Cameron’s story; you know he can’t be serious for a single moment.”

  “That’s completely true.” I sip my coffee. “Will you come?”

  He frowns. “I might come for the last week, but I want to get my apartment sorted. I have this girl I’m trying to impress.” He winks sexily.

  “Do you, now?” I smile.

  He nods, and I watch his tongue dart out to lick his bottom lip. I get a vision of what he did with that tongue last night and my sex clenches.

  “What’s she like?” I ask.

  I like this game.

  His eyes hold mine. “Special.”

  “Special?” I raise my brows. “How so?”

  He drops his eyes to the table and then I see him force them back to meet mine. “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “She kind of feels like home.”

  My heart somersaults in my chest and our eyes lock. I smile softly. “Home is a nice place to be,” I whisper.

  He nods once, as if embarrassed that he just said that out loud.

  “Well, you sort your apartment out for your home girl and then come and meet me in Scotland in ten days.”

  He smiles. “Deal.” Two men come to the table, and Ben’s face falls as he sees them. “Hello.” They nod.

  Ben’s eyes flicker to me. “These are my friends, John and Sam,” he introduces.

  “Hello.” I smile.

  “This is Didge.”

  “Hello.” They both smile.

  This is a good chance to get my things from work. “I was just leaving, anyway, so please… take a seat.” I smile as I stand and glance at Ben. “See you in half an hour or so?”

  He nods, distracted.

  I smile at his two friends. “Nice to meet you both.” I float out the door on a high.

  I’m Ben’s home girl. Things are looki
ng up.

  Five hours later, I cling to him as people rush past us. “Are you sure you can’t come now?” I ask. We are at the airport and Ben is dropping me off.

  “I can’t yet, babe, I’ve got some shit I need to sort.” He kisses me. “I’ll see you in a week or so.” He looks down at me as he brushes the hair back from my forehead.

  I nod…for God’s sake, play it a bit cool, will you?

  “Will you be okay here by yourself?” I ask.

  He chuckles, and shakes his head. “I can look after myself, Bridget. I’ve been doing it a long time.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I roll my eyes. “You just have no furniture and…” I pause midsentence. Yes, that’s a great idea. I dig around in my bag and fish out my apartment keys, passing them to him. “Stay at my house until you get your apartment sorted.” He looks at the keys in his hand and smirks. “That’s an incentive not to get my apartment sorted.”

  I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from blurting out, Don’t then! Move in with me instead.

  What’s wrong with me? God, I do need some distance. I’ve totally lost my mind over this guy.

  The final boarding call sounds and I stare up at him.

  “Miss me?” he whispers.

  My eyes hold his. “To be honest, I can’t really stand the thought of being away from you for one more night,” I whisper.

  He smiles softly as our lips meet. “I might go back to America this week and pack up a few things.”

  “Okay. But promise you’ll meet me so we get a week together?”

  “Yes.” He widens his eyes in exasperation.

  I smile, embarrassed that he has told me that at least ten times in the last hour.

  I’m like a little kid here. We kiss again. “Bye, Ben.” We kiss again, and I run my fingers through his stubble one last time.

  My eyes linger on his, and I have this overwhelming urge to tell him I love him. He knows it, too, because it feels like he wants to say it back.

  “Bye, angel.” He holds me tight in his strong arms until, eventually, I have to go. With one last, lingering look, I go through the doors, into the departure lounge.

  I take a seat as I wait. That’s it then. No more Ben for ten days.

  I feel like crying.

  I’m three hours into my flight. I have an elderly lady on one side of me, and a stinky man on the other. I hate commercial flights. Damn Joshua and his private jet has spoiled me forever. There is a lady a few seats back from us with two small children, and they are talking really loud and whining. I play some music on my headphones to try and drown them out. I take out my phone and scroll through to read my emails and click onto spotify. Hang on. What’s that number on my recording button again?

  This stupid fucking phone is pissing me off.

  I click on and listen to the recording. It’s probably me talking crap with someone like normal.

  I hear muffled voices

  Huh? What is this? I continue to listen to try and work out the voice.

  Ben. When was this? I think for a moment as I listen. It’s the conversation we had in the café. I accidently left my phone on the table this morning behind the napkins and, thankfully, it was still there half an hour later when I remembered. I concentrate on his words.

  “Hello.”

  Oh, it’s his friends who showed up.

  “These are my two friends, John and Sam.”

  “Hello. See you in half an hour or so? Nice to meet you both,” I hear myself say.

  Silence for a few seconds as I leave, and then I listen on.

  “What the fuck are you two doing here?” Ben growls.

  Huh? What the hell? I thought they were his friends. I sit up in my seat as I concentrate, trying to hear what they’re talking about.

  “We have a job for you,” the other man says.

  “I’m out, my six years are up, you know my contract is over,” Ben snaps.

  My eyes widen. What is he talking about? Six-year contract? I’m confused. I glance around guiltily to make sure nobody else can hear this. “We had to come all the way to Australia to talk to you, Buzz?” one man says.

  “Fuck you. Leave. I’m done.” There’s a pause. “How dare you come here near my family? I should gut you on the spot.”

  What the hell is going on here? Buzz… who’s Buzz?

  “Ah, yes, the Marx girl?” one of the men replies.

  My eyes widen in horror. Is that me? How do they know about me, and why is he calling me ‘Marx girl’? I bite my thumbnail as I listen.

  “Don’t you dare fucking speak her name or I’ll kill you,” Ben warns.

  What the fuck?

  “You have one job left to do, and then you can settle down with your Marx girl,” the man replies.

  “I’m settling down now with my girl, so leave me the fuck alone.”

  What?

  “You have one more job. Head office sent us here especially. Jason Steele, a U.S. Diplomat, is selling the names and addresses of special-forces soldiers to a terrorist cell. A Marine’s wife was killed last week in front of his children,” the man goes on.

  My heart starts to pump, and my hand goes over my mouth in horror.

  “Fucking hell,” Ben whispers.

  I hear paper rustle.

  “You are in room 278 at Park Hyatt in Prague.” Silence, and eventually Ben answers. “When?”

  “The 28th. He will be in a meeting at city hall across the road and leaving at 8:00 p.m. Sitting duck, easy job.”

  “That’s in three days’ time,” Ben snaps.

  “The weapon will be in the bag in the room waiting, and you are booked in under the name Taylor. Keys to the hire car will be in the room.”

  Ben exhales.

  My eyes nearly pop from their sockets and I glance at the people around me.

  “Do this and you can start your new life after service.”

  “I’ve waited long enough to start my new fucking life.” Ben growls.

  I hear a rustle and it sounds like Ben is standing. “Fine. I’ll leave tonight. Stay the fuck away from my girl.”

  I sit still, shocked. What the fuck did I just hear?

  What the hell is Ben’s job?

  My heart is thumping, and I can’t believe this. I’m brought back to the present with the sound of the men’s voices as they talk together.

  Huh? The recording is still going.

  “The car is organised?” one man asks.

  “Yes, all fixed; the steering column and brakes are fixed. It’s already sitting in the car park there.”

  My eyes widen.

  “Buzz Lightyear will be meeting his maker, and nobody will be the wiser. A problem erased.”

  “A tragic accident,” the other man adds.

  The men both laugh, and my hand flies over my mouth.

  Perspiration burns my armpits as fear fills my every cell.

  Holy fuck, they’re going to kill him.

  10

  Bridget

  What do you do with information if you don’t understand it?

  I’ve been sitting here in the same position for four hours. I don’t know if this is real or a hoax, or some kind of crazy movie plot. This is…

  I shake my head in disbelief.

  Stupid.

  I press play and listen to the recording for the tenth time, and with every new listen more fear arises.

  Now, I’m just about out of damn battery and I can’t recharge until I land.

  I stare out the window as I think, and I honestly don’t know what’s worse to hear: what Ben apparently does for a living, or the fact that he was right, and he did have a good reason to leave me all those years ago.

  Actually, no, it’s the fact that he may be dead in a few days’ time. I put my head in my hands. This can’t be happening.

  Oh, God, I feel sick.

  Is this what he meant by him not wanting his past to catch up with me?

  Who are those men?

  What does he fucking do for work
?

  I think I already know the answer, but I don’t want to let my mind go there.

  Not Ben. Not my Ben.

  No, baby, don’t let it be true.

  Please, please, please. Dear God, don’t let this be true, I silently pray.

  I knew that he was into some heavy military shit before, but this is a whole other level.

  I wish I hadn’t heard this. I wish I could go back six hours and just be worried about him being lonely while I was gone.

  Now I’m worried about his life, and I don’t even know if this shit is real. I begin to look around in a panic. I feel claustrophobic, like the plane’s closing in on me.

  I need to get off this plane. I need to get off this fucking plane now. I can’t do anything. I can’t call him. I glance at my watch, frustrated that there’s another twenty hours of flying left, with another stopover in between.

  Fuck’s sake.

  Is this really happening?

  It does seem bizarre. I click play again.

  “You are in room 278 at Park Hyatt in Prague.”

  Silence, and eventually Ben answers.

  “When?”

  “The 28th. He will be in a meeting at city hall across the road and leaving without guards at 8:00 p.m. Sitting duck, easy job.”

  “That’s in three days’ time,” Ben snaps.

  “The weapon will be in the bag in the room waiting, and you are booked in under the name Taylor. Keys to the hire car will be in the room.” Ben exhales.

  “Do this and you can start your new life after service.”

  “I’ve waited long enough to start my new fucking life,” Ben growls.

  “Fine. I’ll leave tonight. Stay the fuck away from my girl.”

  His girl. An unexpected thrill runs through me. That statement shouldn’t mean as much to me as it does. I throw my phone into my bag in disgust.

  I’ve officially lost the fucking plot.