"And yet you're going to lay there and touch your pussy like a good girl while I get out of these pesky clothes."
He was right; I totally was.
I proved this by letting my legs fall open slightly, by letting my hand slide between them as he looked down at me.
"See?" he asked, voice deeper, eyes more hooded. He reached up behind his back, pulled his tee off, and tossed it to the side. "Spread your legs, baby. Let me see you slide that finger inside that wet pussy."
And really, with him looking at me with those gorgeous eyes, talking to me in that sex-sexy voice, standing there looking all god-like with all his muscles, was there really any way to deny him what he wanted?
As my finger slid lower, so did his hands, reaching for his button and zip, then sliding his jeans and boxer briefs off.
There was a distinct pre-orgasm tightening as his cock came into view, hard and straining, and full of promise.
"Now, Scotti," he demanded on a sound that was hardly more than a growl.
Just as he commanded it, my finger slid in as his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it to the base.
After that, well, all I knew was the need I felt inside at seeing his cock, in imagining it buried deep inside me again. I never realized before how almost unbearably sexy it was to watch a man touch himself, especially so when he was doing it while watching you was all the more intoxicating.
I was so wrapped up in those thoughts that I didn't see his other hand reach out and snag my wrist, holding it still. "You don't come until I tell you to come," he growled, stroking himself faster.
And, desperate to get him to the edge as I was, I folded upward, reaching to cover his hand with my own, then leaning downward to take him in my mouth.
"Fuck," he growled, hand going to the back of my head, sliding into my hair at the base of my neck, curling, and pulling just to the point of pain.
He didn't let me torture him for long, though.
One moment I was taking him deep. The next, there was a stinging pain in my scalp as he yanked back roughly, twisting harder, making me angle up to look at him.
"On the bed, all fours," he demanded, making anticipation shiver through my belly.
I couldn't move fast enough.
I was vaguely aware of him reaching for his pants and the crinkle of a condom foil before I felt his hands sink into my hips, pulling me backward, then letting his fingers drift up my belly to cup my breasts, rolling the nipples with perfect pressure, making me shamelessly press my ass back into him.
His hands moved around and down my back, one grabbing my ass hard, the other moving between my thighs, and shoving two fingers inside me deep. Before I could even register the invasion, his fingers were fucking me hard and fast and unrelenting, making me collapse half-forward, fingers digging into the sheets.
"Mark, please," I begged, face buried in the sheets as his fingers somehow got faster, harder.
"Please, what?" he asked, sounding on edge himself.
"Please fuck me," I clarified, feeling his fingers pull out of me.
There was hardly even a pause before his cock was slamming inside me, impossibly deep, with enough pressure that my entire body jolted forward, making him slide his hand up my back to sink his hands into my hair, curling, wrapping, and yanking, using it to hold me in place as he started fucking me.
"Oh my God," I whimpered, shamelessly shoving back into him as he thrust forward, taking him as deep as my body would allow, driving me toward the peak faster than ever before. I could feel my walls tightening, almost painfully intense.
"Nope," Mark growled, pulling completely out of me just as I thought the torment was going to come to a glorious end.
"No," I whimpered, falling forward onto the bed as his hand slapped my ass hard enough that I was sure there would be a red mark there later.
But before I could even register the full sting, his hands were grabbing my hips and tossing me onto my back, taking my legs, and dragging them back so my butt was off the edge of the bed, my legs resting on his shoulders.
His hands slid up and down my calf as his smile went boyish again, making a strange tightening sensation start in my chest, something I was sure I had never felt before and therefore couldn't name, but it was a mix of amazing and terrifying, whatever it was.
"Really gotta make you suffer," he told me, kissing the inside of my ankle. "So you don't go running off without talking to me again first."
Then with that, I felt his cock press against then slowly penetrate me, unhurried, sweet. One of his hands slid down and between my thighs, moving gently over my clit as his gaze found mine and held.
And I was sure I never felt more exposed as I did right in that moment. Vulnerable. Completely bare to another person.
Where it maybe should have felt scary or uncomfortable, full of growing pains, all that I could seem to feel was a heavy sort of rightness.
Seeming to feel the heaviness himself - or possibly that was just me projecting my own feelings onto him - Mark lowered my legs, wrapping them around his lower back, then lowering himself forward, pressing his body fully into mine. It was the first time I realized how much I wanted that contact.
His hands reached for mine, slipping between my fingers, and holding them against the bed as his face lowered and his lips claimed mine.
Then he was no longer fucking me.
He was doing something I was sure I had never experienced before.
He was making love to me.
And all the times I had cringed at that phrase, thought it was sappy, cheesy, old-timey, well, I was flat-out wrong.
This wasn't sappy or cheesy or old-fashioned.
It was amazing.
Almost overwhelming.
More intense than anything I had ever experienced before.
As he ever-so-slowly drove me to the edge, this time me knowing he was going to let me go over and crash, as his lips gently owned mine, I felt a sting of tears in my eyes that I had to fight to keep away just as Mark pushed me into that suspended nothingness.
His lips pulled from mine as he pushed up, watching me with intense eyes. "I want to watch you come," he told me, voice nothing more than a harsh whisper as his cock pressed inside me once again and I... completely fell apart.
My fingers raked claw marks into his shoulders as I cried out his name, the waves seeming to crash endlessly as Mark kept stroking into me through it, dragging it out.
"Beautiful," he declared when the last wave settled, pressing deep one last time and then coming with my name on his lips.
His face buried into my neck as my legs and arms wrapped him up, held him perhaps way too tightly.
I didn't want the moment to end.
I wanted to stay that way for hours, days, forever.
It was eventually Mark who pulled against me, planting a kiss on my shoulder before pressing up on his hands. "Let me up, honey," he half-asked, half-declared in a quiet voice, planting a sweet kiss to my lips as I forced my legs and arms to give up their vice hold of him.
He moved off the bed and out of the bedroom to the bathroom as I forced myself to move up the bed and climb under the covers, take deep breaths to keep it together so I didn't go do something insane like telling him how other-worldly that sex session had just been, ask if he felt the same intense connection.
'Cause, let's face it, that was generally not the kind of talk you had with a man after the second sex session. It was way too much, way too soon. Even if he did chase you down to your safe house and make you reevaluate your life plans so he could maybe get to see more of you.
Even then it seemed too risky.
I didn't want to ruin what was looking to be a good thing by going too deep too fast.
Maybe, just maybe, if when I discussed it with my brothers, we could stick around. There was a chance, albeit a small one, that I could get to know Mark well enough to tell him how I felt with him on this stranger's bed in this lovely cabin, where I had spent so much unhappy time wishing I could have more
of him.
That would be nice.
"That tub looks big enough for two," Mark informed me as he walked back in, gloriously naked, beautifully unconcerned with that fact, hair bed-messy, smile boyish. "Think I need a nap and then we might need to break that fucker in. I imagine those jets could be a lot of fun if we can get you in the right position," he went on, making my sex thrill at the idea despite the fact that the orgasm I just had should have been enough to last me days, weeks, a lifetime.
"Trying to torture me some more?" I asked as he pulled back the sheets and slid in, sitting slightly up against the headboard, and pulling me so my back was against his chest, his arms around my front.
"You tortured me first. You had it coming," he informed me, whispering his fingers across my belly.
My eyes narrowed as my body stiffened. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for more tickle spots. Oops," he said when his fingertips brushed across the sensitive underside of my breast. "Found a hot spot instead. Cataloging that for later. Back to the tickle... ah, there it is!" he declared when his light touch found my ribs, and I automatically squealed and tried to jerk away. "Don't worry. I'm not torturing you right now. Just keeping that in mind the next time your stubborn ass decides to run away instead of talking shit out."
"I'm pretty sure the woman is usually the one demanding talks."
"I'm pretty sure the man is usually the one running chickenshit scared. We got a gender-reversal thing going on here. Lucky for me, talking has never been a fucking weak spot for me." There was a short pause as his arms folded across me, squeezing me tight. "And I got some fucking chains in my truck if your ass proves a flight risk over bullshit little things again."
"Prosecution and life in prison, you mean."
"Yeah, little things," he agreed, sounding like he was smiling.
"You're ridiculous."
"Then you must have a thing for ridiculous men."
"No, I have a thing for men who smell like fresh-cut grass and concrete grit. The ridiculous thing really blindsided me." To that, I got fingers teasing over my ribs for one playful second, making me slam my head back onto his shoulder. "But you make up for it in the cooking and bedroom department," I conceded.
"So, you gonna talk to your brothers about staying?"
I turned my face into his neck, breathing him in, letting the scent calm me. "Yes."
"Once more, with feeling," he demanded, voice low.
"I don't want you to get your hopes up," I admitted, adding silently: or my own.
"Think you'll be surprised and find that they overwhelmingly want to stay too. Nothing against China or Russia, but they aren't home, y'know? This is all they know. The customs and lifestyle here are what they are familiar with. Maybe most importantly," he added, voice sounding lighter, "they know how to get American women into bed. Who knows what the women of China or Russia expect from us."
"Heaven forbid you have to take them on a date or bring them flowers, right?"
"You want flowers, baby? I'll get you flowers."
"I was being sarcastic," I rushed to say, not wanting him to think he needed to do things to 'win' me. He had me already, if that wasn't already as painfully clear to him as it was to me. Painfully because there was still a chance I would have to give him up if my brothers thought it was too risky to stay. Sometimes, when I was sure they would go one way on an issue, they would throw me off by going the complete other.
"Still getting you flowers," Mark declared casually. "You can practice your green thumb on them and shit." There was a long silence as I felt Mark's body swell and release beneath me, yawning. "You're not expecting them 'till morning, right?"
"Or later," I agreed, inwardly thrilling at the idea of getting one night, just one single, solitary night alone with Mark. No worries about someone barging in, or making things uncomfortable, or overhearing us. Just us. Alone in the woods.
"Alright. So sleep. Bathtub fucking with jet action. Then we drag ourselves out there and make some food to help them soak up the booze when they come stumbling in. Then you can talk to them while I take a walk. Plan?"
I smiled wide because I was pretty sure he couldn't see, and nodded. "Plan," I agreed.
"Good. Now rest up. I'm thinking that tub can get you to four orgasms before my cock even comes near you. You need your strength."
And that was my goodnight from Mark Mallick.
Ridiculous? Yes.
Sexy? Yeah, definitely that too.
Perfect? I was pretty much convinced it was.
I should have stayed awake, staring at the walls, reminding myself how dangerous that line of thought was. That was the smart, prudent, very Scotti-like thing to do.
But I didn't do that. I rolled when he pulled me down onto his chest, sank into his warmth, his strength, his comforting scent. I let my belly go liquid when he kissed my temple. I traced his tattoos as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Then, deciding I was going to let myself have this, to not stress about it, to not ruin it, I too drifted off, feeling safer than I ever had in my life.
And maybe, if I had stayed awake to think on that, I might have realized what that meant.
ELEVEN
Mark
"Just let go, baby," I demanded as she slammed back into me, legs shaking, voice a pained animal sound that shot right to my dick which had been waiting its turn, not so patiently, for three orgasms now.
I wasn't wrong about the jets.
I was pretty much convinced every house needed a tub like this. It might actually save some goddamn marriages. That was how intense the fucking orgasms Scotti was having were- strong enough to forget that for eight weeks straight your lazy ass forgot to take out the trash, and that the dishwasher was still broken, and you had yet to change a dirty diaper after three kids and seven years. It might even let her forgive the fact that you only got half-hard, fucked like a jackrabbit, and never learned where her clit or G-spot were. You know, so long as you dirty-talked and held her through the watergasm. Yep. Made that one up. It was appropriate.
But seriously.
Get a jetted tub.
"There you go, squeeze my fingers," I growled, part of me really wishing it was my cock getting that fucking treatment right then, but loving the goddamn sound of her scream reverberating off the tiled walls of the bathroom.
I moved my cock between us to stroke up her cleft after she pulled her legs beneath her, kneeling, her hands on the edge of the tub as she struggled to get her breathing back to normal.
"Not the most ideal time to bring this up," I started, pulling her against my chest as I kept stroking my cock against her pussy.
"Bring what up?" she asked, sounding somewhat dreamy, completely content from the four solid orgasms she already had.
If I had anything to say about it, we were getting to six.
"Tests and contraception," I offered, looking out the door toward the bedroom, my wallet and condoms a world away.
"Oh."
"Yeah, not a romantic subject, but we gotta get it out of the way regardless. I get tested twice a year. A month ago it was clean. Always used condoms before. Got the proof on my phone if you want to give me a nice view of your perfect fucking ass as you reach out there for it," I offered, meaning toward the counter where I left it.
"I believe you."
"Your turn, baby," I offered, pressing my cock into her clit, smiling when she let out a hiss.
"Get checked at my six-month gyno visits. Always clear. Always use condoms."
"And those six-month gyno visits, you talk about anything other than test results?"
"Oh, we talk about the weather. And how to do self-exams. Oh," she added as I started to smile, knowing her game, liking that she chose that moment to play it perhaps more than I should. "We also talk about my prescription for the Ring."
Thank fuck.
Never, fucking never in my life had the idea of going without something between me and a woman sounded quite so appealing. In fact, I was pretty sure it was
n't something I ever thought about except in passing. When you weren't the relationship kind of guy, you didn't fuck around about protection. For yourself, sure, and the woman. No one wanted any nasty surprises or an unplanned baby from a one-night-stand.
But with Scotti, I don't know, it was different.
I wanted to feel her.
I wanted her to feel me.
"So what you're saying is..." I prompted when the silence hung for a long minute.
"What I'm saying is," she said, her hand moving between us, grabbing my cock, and moving it down toward the entrance to her pussy, "I need you inside me right now," she said, her voice catching as I slowly slid inside her, feeling her warm, wet, tight walls close around me, having to take a slow, deep breath to keep it together.
Nothing, fucking nothing had ever felt quite so goddamn good.
"Jesus," I growled, resting my forehead down on her shoulder as my cock buried to the hilt.
Her head fell back on my shoulder, her hands going up and behind us to wrap around the back of my neck. My own hands moved from her hips to slide up her belly and cup her breasts, rolling her hardened nipples until her hips started squirming against me, until she was as needy as I was feeling right then.
Then, before I could focus enough to even think of taking control, she started thrusting against me, taking over instead.
One of my hands slipped low, reaching between her thighs for her clit, working around it, but not touching it, knowing it was likely at that over-sensitive stage from the jets already, and knowing with this position, my cock was raking over her G-spot, and her clit was just adding to the whole thing, not delivering the whole she-bang.
"Oh, my God," she whimpered, riding me harder, the water sloshing over the sides of the tub and no one gave a fuck about the mess we'd have to clean up after. We were too lost in the moment. "Mark, I'm..."
She didn't even get to finish telling me before her pussy started spasming around my cock, dragging out a deep growl from me as I started thrusting into her, her body giving out.
"Fuck, baby," I groaned as I started to come deep inside her sweet, welcoming pussy.
Mark (The Mallick Brothers #3) Page 13