by Marie Wathen
I nod and glance down at his hand wrapping around his thick cock, stroking skillfully. I struggle swallowing while hoping that he will fit inside me. Licking my lips anxiously, I reach out for him, but he shakes his head no as he climbs onto the bed beside me. This time he doesn’t move between my legs. Instead, he rolls me onto my side so that I’m facing him.
Smoothing a hand over my hair, he pushes it back over my shoulder and then lifts my chin up so that I’m looking into his eyes. “You can touch me anyway that you want.”
A smile so big that it actually hurts my cheeks, moves across my face at his offer. My eyes zero in on the small patch of hair under his bellybutton that trails downward. Groaning softly, I force my attention away from the trail that leads to the heavens below and rest my hands on his chest, gliding them along leisurely. His body is total perfection. I spend a few moments pinching his nipples between my fingers, watching how they react and harden, which increases my need to taste him. Pulling my hair over one shoulder, I hover over it, catching his smile in the corner of my eye. My tongue darts out for a quick sample. He moans and I feel his warm hand sliding up my back encouraging me onward.
Capturing his dark red nipple between my lips causes him to gasp loudly. His hand lands hard on my ass where he digs his fingers in roughly. So caught up in sensory overload, I instinctively move and straddle his thigh, pressing myself against it. This ignites a burning desire to touch more of him. I release the hold I have on his nipple with a popping sound and raise my body up. Glancing up I see the need in his eyes for more. I wiggle down his leg, bringing my mouth to his stomach. I lick my lips anticipating his taste and my hot breath escapes out heavy, ruffling the baby fine hair below his bellybutton. Seeing the goose bumps entices me to continue downward along the trail.
Marcus’ fingers slide into my hair and slowly strokes through it repeatedly. Shoving down all of my anxieties about this being the most intimate moment of my life, I seek out his cock and gaze at it. My heart flutters when I notice that it is hard, silky and wet.
Through gritted teeth Marcus growls, “Baby, you’re killing me.”
Fearlessly, I wrap my fingers around him. I stoke up toward the tip of his swollen head and my thumb slips over the moist bead.
He groans deep and low, “Fuck yes!”
Completely encouraged by him now, I grip with both hands starting a leisurely rhythm that causes his hips to thrust upward. I watch him. His head drops back onto the pillow and his fist moves to his hip where he clenches and releases it several times. His eyes roll back, his jaw clamps down tightly and he draws in a raspy breath. Feeling an ache between my legs growing to a throb, I move my hands faster over him. His hand grabs me around the wrist halting my strokes. His wild eyes pierce me as he shakes his head.
“Stop baby,” Marcus says. “That is the most indescribable feeling, and if you keep doing it I will explode.”
His hands move up to my shoulders, rolling me off of him and bringing me back to lying down again. Moving on top of me, he holds the weight of his upper body off of me while his lower body sinks between my legs, pressing against my center. His head dips down and kisses me so sweetly.
Ending our kiss, Marcus lowers his body down to rest on his forearms and softly he speaks, “Breesan, you are my dream come true.”
One arm lies beside my head while the other roams down my body, reaching between us and grabbing hold of his cock. He places the tip against my entrance, and soft, green eyes lift up meeting my gray ones. I stroke my hands through his hair tenderly.
“Tell me that you love me Breesan,” he whispers.
I know that these are the words he chooses to confirm that I am ready and silently asking me not to hurt him. “I love you with all of my heart Marcus.”
Sliding both hands under my shoulders, he kisses me deep while his cock pushes gently into me. I wince at the sharp pain and he kisses me harder. After a moment he moves, slow at first easing me through the roughest part. Still kissing me he begins thrusting his hips, diving in deeper and surging a little faster into me. He moves his mouth away from mine and drops his head into the crook of my neck.
In between placing kisses from my ear to my collar, he murmurs, “I love you so damn much Breesan.”
“Oh babe,” I pant, loving how his body feels against and inside me, “I love you Marcus.”
“You feel so incredible,” He groans, pressing his hands into the mattress and lifting his body above me so he has a better angle. “I’m yours baby, always.”
“Mine…” I moan uncontrollably. My fingernails dig into his backside as I desperately cling to my sanity. Allowing myself to enjoy the feel of his body driving into mine, my hips begin to writhe along with him frantically. His pressure increasing causes my head to press hard into my pillow as my back arches off the bed, needing to match his movements. His sensual rocking motion begins to fuel a desire that starts between my legs, runs up through my core, into my heart, piercing the deepest part of my mind and looping back down where we are connected. The buildup of my climax comes quick and before I have a chance to process it, Marcus slips a hand between us pressing on my sensitive clit and my entire world shatters apart.
With my mind revolving out of control, I scream out his name over and over again before hearing him gutturally yell, “Fuck Breesan.”
He slows his movement and finally stops all together, resting his forehead on my chest. Rapidly breathing together, we silently cling to each other, like at any moment the horrific world outside will invade our blissfulness. Still joined, he rolls us to our side so that his weight isn’t pressing on me.
I drop my head on his shoulder and his arm snakes around, skimming his hand over my bare arm softly.
“Are you okay?” Marcus asks, tipping my chin up with his hand under it.
I nod, glancing at him, “Yes, better than okay.” He smiles.
Breathing in deeply, he says, “Damn I love our scent.” He tilts his head so that he can see me better.
Laughing softly, I prop my chin on my hand, lying on top of his chest and ask, “What?”
Smiling proudly at me he repeats, “I love our scent. Your cherry scented lotion and my …”
“Cinnamon,” I quickly answer for him.
“I smell like cinnamon?” His hand swipes away a few stray hairs from my cheek.
Nodding, I add, “And Sandalwood. I would know your scent anywhere.”
“Would you?”
“Oh god, yes. That night on the balcony, I was totally hypnotized by your scent and have since picked you out in a crowd a couple of times. When you loaned me your shirt the night of the rainstorm, I felt like I was going to die from it assaulting me all night long.” I sigh. “A part of me loved it while another hated it entirely.”
Crinkling his forehead, he asks, “You really hated it?”
Feeling a sudden shyness creeping up on me, I bite down on my lip and only offer him a tiny nod.
He tilts his head a little more to capture my now averted eyes, “Why did you hate it, Baby?”
Mumbling I say, “Because I wanted you, but at the time I thought Sam was your girlfriend. And each time I moved, your scent would circulate around the cab of the truck. That was one hell of a night.”
“That it was,” he agrees, kissing my lips sweetly adding, “It was the night I knew that I was in love with you.”
“What?” I gasp. “Why that night? What did I say that…Ohgod!”
“It wasn’t what you said. It was that you shared it with me freely. I knew then that you trusted me. Your protective wall came down and I saw a beautiful sweet woman who wanted to unburden all that had hurt her. Trust is a form of love, Breesan. So when you shared about your dad, you trusted me and let me in and that’s when I knew that I loved you.”
Feeling a weight lift off me, I sigh, “That night I thought you would hate me for spilling all of that about my family. I didn’t think that someone like you could love someone like me.”
“What do y
ou mean someone like me? Just because I don’t have a wall erected to block people out doesn’t mean that I haven’t been hurt before. I wanted to protect myself after Morgan and Elise ripped my heart apart with the affair. Honestly, I knew if I spent time with you that I would fall right where I didn’t think I ever wanted to be. So I used the excuse of my jobs, and I kept my distance. It was me that didn’t feel worthy of you baby.”
“That’s impossible,” I say, crinkling my forehead completely confused. “You’re absolutely perfect Marcus.”
A loud obnoxious laugh jostles me off his chest and I smile at him. After a minute of broken up chuckling, he regains his composure.
“I’m sure my father would disagree with you on that account.”
Angering instantly at the mention of his father, I growl softly, “Your father is a bastard, and I don’t give a damn what he thinks. You are one hundred times the man he could ever be on a good day.”
“Wow, where did all of that rage come from?” He asks, staring at me in disbelief.
I wince at how nasty that sounded. I know that his dad isn’t one of his favorite people, but he’s still his dad. Damn, I hope that I haven’t offended him. Closing my eyes, I bite down on my lower lip, hoping that I can control the bitterness, rolling around in my head and keep it from spewing out of my mouth.
“Oh no, don’t get quiet on me now. I need to know what my father did that made you react that way.” He props up on one arm and splays a warm hand across my stomach. His eyebrows pinch tightly together. “Breesan, I need you to tell me sweetheart.”
Resigning at his plea, I reluctantly tell Marcus everything that happened after Morgan took me away from Rhys’. It kills me to rehash it, but I tell him about Tristan kissing me. That pisses him off. His eyes darken with a rage that mirrored mine earlier. Quickly, I explain that it was only because he forgot me and I include the part about his sick behavior with Elise. He remains peculiarly quiet after that additional information, so I push forward and tell him about what his dad said to Morgan; about all of his children and how he revealed to Morgan about Sam not being his daughter.
During this part I can see a sadness veiling over his face and it pains me that I am the one telling him all of this vile shit. Finally, I tell him about Morgan’s real feelings for Waverly. It is only slightly, but I see the corner of his lips tip upward and know that he is relieved knowing that Morgan no longer has designs of conquering me. We spend the remainder of the night and into the early morning hours making love again, and falling deeper in love than I thought I could.
Completely sated and fatigued my mind sorts through my new feelings and how impossible this happiness was two months ago. I cannot believe or understand how I found a man as loving as Marcus, but I intend to savor every moment of it. Somehow fate found a way for us to find each other, and his love breathes new life into me.
His breathing regulates after a pregnant pause and I take advantage of the moment. “Thank you, for loving me,” I whisper into the dark room.
Chapter Thirty-One
Breesan
A slight movement in the bed jostles me awake, and after a few minutes I open my eyes to the sunshine beaming through my bedroom window. I glance around the room seeing all of my old, familiar stuff. Pinned to the cork-board hanging on the wall over my desk is the comprehensive list of things that are typed, bullet pointed and highlighted as “Imperative, To My Future Happiness.” Only the items on that slip of paper are important to me.
Were important, I silently acknowledge how much has changed. Everything that made up my world of isolation doesn’t look the slightest bit recognizable anymore. Gone are the dreams of a scared little girl. I depended on these little goals to keep me from going mad while standing alone on one side of a wall ignoring people, who actually cared, on the other. They waited for me to get over my bullshit, climb over it and finally live with them. However, through my stubbornness, I stalled too long and let them down - never again.
From now on if someone wants to love me, I am letting them in, I promise myself. It will be an uphill battle, but worth it all once I let love in freely.
Rolling my body around to the empty side of my bed, I smile hearing a sexy deep voice singing in the shower. I remember every detail of last night with Marcus and how we proclaimed being in love just before making love for the first time. The pessimist in me wants to focus on how cliché that moment is to reveal emotions, but the persistent romantic hiding within my heart wants to acknowledge it and enjoy every damn second of this sensation. Contrary to the rather obnoxious voice of the dominating cynic in me, I fight through the brewing maelstrom and chose loving and being loved.
Stepping out of my bathroom wrapped in a damp towel, Marcus’ smile blossoms and his eyes twinkle in delight.
“Good morning my beautiful baby,” he says, dipping down and placing a tender kiss to my lips.
I laugh excessively when I get a whiff of my shampoo and body wash. Marcus quirks an eyebrow up, while digging through an overnight bag, full of his clothes and waits for an explanation for my sudden outburst. My eyes grow wide when he playfully drops the towel at his feet displaying his full erection. Damn tease. All humor and air is wrenched out of me with this devious move of revenge for not telling him why I am giggling. Now it is his turn to laugh.
Sucking in a ragged breath, I manage to say through a stutter, “You are – bad, Marcus Walker.”
He retrieves the towel and wraps it around his waist before saying, “No, my love, but I can play dirty. Are you going to confess what I did to make you giggle? Or will I need another shower after I engage you in some schmexy filthy bedroom recreation?”
Two words pop into my head. Holy hell! I shake off the effects of his seduction before responding.
“Schmexy,” I giggle again at his descriptive word, but halt quickly when he reaches for the towel. “Okay, I will tell you, but it’s not to turn down that offer.” I tease, roaming my eyes over the tattoos covering his enormous chest, sides and lower abdomen. Good lord, he’s perfection. “You smell like…cherries.”
Running his nose along his forearm, he smirks, “Mm, so I do. Now I will be thinking about you every time I move, in addition to thinking about you with each beat of my heart.”
Yeah, how can I not love this man? Damn, my heart just skipped a beat with that confession and his honest expression.
He prowls across the bed slowly toward me with hungry eyes, and seeing that carnal need forces a shiver through my body. Wrapping both hands around my wrists, he stretches my arms above my head as he presses his weight down on me followed by his lips against my neck. Ohgod My neck is hypersensitive and he knows it. Pinning me like this he is fully aware of how much he is driving me out of my mind. My eyelids flutter and close while I bite the hell out of my lip. Uncontrollably, my body wiggles against his delicious assault before I finally whimper out my surrender.
Breathlessly, I groan, “Marcus…”
He kisses my neck several more times before releasing my hands and stopping altogether. I open my eyes slowly and see a curious look on his face.
“I want to give you something. Would that be okay?” he asks hesitantly.
Tilting my head, I watch the seriousness deepen in his features and become anxious, worrying about how I should respond to his request. Any other time and with any other person I would refuse. However, it seems that for whatever reason my acceptance is important to him. I nod and watch him reach into his bag. A tentative smile touches the corner of his lips as he lifts my hand and places a small black velvet box in it. Crinkling my forehead, my eyebrows pinch together while I still try to process the meaning behind this gift.
“Why?” I ask, seeing something similar to regret or disappointment replace the miniscule smile he had moments ago.
“It’s your birthday gift,” he says cautiously, studying me. I glance back at the box and again I nod, accepting his answer. “I got it the day after the party, when I was on my way to meet you at the hosp
ital.” He releases a heavy breath before adding, “I debated on giving it to you. In fact, until last night, I had resigned on returning it.”
More confused now, I repeat my previous question, “Why?”
His shoulders slump slightly and he averts his eyes from mine momentarily. When he looks at me again they are glistening.
“If I hadn’t stopped for this gift I would have been there when those guys attacked you.”
“No.” My heart breaks at his remorse. “Those men were dangerous. They could have hurt you. I don’t think I could have dealt with losing you too.”
Tangling his fingers into my hair, he draws me to his lips and kisses me hard. I kiss him back desperately trying to assure him through this kiss that I need him.
After sliding his nose over the tip of mine, he whispers, “I love you so much Breesan.”
He pulls away slowly and opens the tiny box, revealing a dainty necklace. It is a lovely bronze umbrella charm on a bronze chain with a tiny blue raindrop shaped crystal hanging below the umbrella.
Tears burn in my eyes as I whisper, “It is absolutely the most beautiful gift I have ever received.”
“It reminds me of the night I fell for you.” He smiles at me with true happiness and says, “Thank you for accepting it.” Staring affectionately into my eyes, he adds, “And me.”
Unable to respond verbally, I draw him to me this time and return the passion level to near nuclear with this kiss. My tongue sweeps into his mouth and he grabs my hips pulling me roughly onto him, pressing my flesh against his flesh. My fingers glide along his shoulders into his hair and I grip the silky damp locks, provoking a shudder from him. One of his hands leaves my waist, to reach up and cup the side of my face. Panting hard, he breaks away from our embrace and the sweetest sigh escapes his lips. Looking deeply into my eyes, he smiles then takes the necklace out of the box. I move my hair over one shoulder and he slips it over, clasping it and then fingers the raindrop, lying just below the hollow of my neck.
“Thank you Marcus,” I say playing with the tiny bead and feeling more joy in this moment than I have in a very long time.