The fabric breaks away easily, giving me full access to her sensitive clit. Opening her legs wide, she calls to me. “Take me, Mark. All I've thought about is this since the morning I left. I can't wait, don't make me wait.”
Her hands slip over her belly, and she grabs her tits, pinching her nipples. Gripping the clip in the center, she unclasps it, letting it fall to the floor beneath her. Small bumps ripple over her skin as she arches high, desperately begging me with her body.
It drives me wild to watch her writhe beneath me. Her hands keep touching herself, grabbing her tits, rolling down her stomach and up her ribs. Her legs keep opening and closing, her hips rising and falling, her eyes flickering with need.
Digging my fingers into her hips, I hold her up and drive my cock deep into her heat. She's so wet I slip in easily, her arousal warm and silky as it coats my length. Every muscle in her body goes stiff as she throws her head back and moans loudly.
It's music to my ears. The coo comes out on a shallow breath, growing louder and more intense as her hands dive into her hair. Her heels bear down on the floor, and she clutches my hips with her thighs as I thrust in and out of her.
I'm not gentle. I'm not kind. I'm a beast taking what I want and giving her what she craves. Everything is raw. The hunger so great I'm not thinking about anything else.
Slamming forward, I pull back out and slam in again. My chest burns, needing a breath of air, but I can't do anything else except fuck her. Spearing her pussy, her walls stretch wide letting me in, and clench down hard to keep me there.
Slapping the floor with her hands, she claws the wood with her nails. Her skin is hot and clammy as she blushes from the cheeks down. Slipping my hands to her thighs, I can feel her shaking as her eyes snap shut and she lets out a deep throaty moan.
That's it, that's all it takes to make my stomach tighten and my cock explode. Holding my body still, my cock pulses over and over as her clit throbs against my base.
Falling forward, my palms slip over the wood, bringing me face to face with her. Her eyes dart between mine as she's trying to catch her breath. I finally inhale a long, deep breath, cooling the burning sensation in my chest.
I can't take my eyes off her. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And right now, with her tousled hair and rosy cheeks, she looks like a fallen angel. Heart shaped lips, big bold blue eyes with starry twinkles, she's all I need right now.
I could forget everything else in this world if I could make this moment last forever.
8
Siobhan
My legs are still shaking. Violently trembling as I lay comatose on the floor. With spaghetti arms, I'm barely able to push myself up. Resting on my palms, my lungs struggle to take in air and keep it.
“You know, I thought when we had sex last time that I was too drunk for it have been as good as it was. I was so wrong.”
“What are you saying? That I'm so good in bed it's mind blowing?” Mark smirks, wagging his brows playfully.
“Don't go getting a big head or anything, but yeah, that was fucking amazing.”
Mark pushes to his feet, still naked and exposed as he walks around the room picking up our clothes. His muscles are slick and shining from sweat, his ass plump and firm. I can't stop the flutter in my chest as I watch his muscles flex smoothly all the way from his shoulders to the perfect V-shape of his lower back.
Handing me my clothes, he holds up a jagged piece of fabric. “I don't think these will work anymore.” The thin fabric dangles over his finger as he sways it back and forth.
Giggling, I nod. “Yeah, they're dust.” Taking my torn panties off his finger, I ball them up and toss them into the waste basket next to the door. “Looks like I'm going commando.”
“And in jeans, that ain't going to go over well. There'll be chaffing, and probably some raw skin—”
“Okay, all right, I get it.” Holding up my hand, I slip my legs into my pants and stand up. Wiggling them over my hips, I jump softly to get them up the rest of the way. “You'll just have to kiss me better later is all.”
Mark is standing in just his pants, and hot damn, he looks good enough to jump again. Pulling his shirt over his arms, he starts to move around the studio. He stops at every painting and drawing I have hanging up, studying them closely.
“These are really amazing. Impressive actually. I look at the one you made me a dozen or more times a day.”
“Stop it,” I say, clipping my bra and tugging my shirt on.
“No, I'm serious. You're really good at this.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but it's just a hobby.”
“Maybe it should be a full time gig. You could do it.”
Shaking my head, I walk to his side and stare at the picture. “No I can't.”
“Why not?”
Looking up at him, I roll my eyes. “Because that's not the plan for my life.”
“Has your family seen any of this? I think if they saw it they might—”
“You met my mother,” I cut in. “She doesn't even know this place exists. No clue, not one. I make up some excuse to come here and paint. I'm meeting a friend, I'm heading to the library, things like that. She'd kill me if she knew I had this place in Brooklyn.”
“Speaking of your mom, I really am sorry I just appeared the way I did. I had no idea the situation you're in with your family, and Jenna wasn't exactly straight forward with me about it.”
“Yeah, well, Jenna probably didn't want to scare you off. Which would have happened if you knew my family was crazy.”
“I'm sure they're not crazy, they're just protective, I bet.”
Dipping my chin into my chest, I open my eyes wide. “Uh, no, that's not it. They're super traditional, like no dating, no kissing or sleeping together before marriage, no being alone with a boy unattended. Speaking of which, this,” I say, pointing between us, “has to stay between us. I don't agree with the way they think, but they're family, and I need to respect them. So, all I ask is that we keep this a secret.”
“I like secrets,” he says, stepping behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. Snuggling his face into the crook of my neck, he lays soft kisses. “And I'll promise to keep yours if you'll keep mine.”
“What's yours?” I ask, curling my arm around his neck and playing with the ends of his hair.
“That I want more of this,” he says, whispering against my neck. His hands glide weightlessly down the tops of my thighs, fingers brushing the outer edges of my pussy. “I'm here for a little bit and we're too good together to not enjoy each other.”
His lips move more slowly, pressing hard as he exhales a warm breath across my skin. I quiver in his arms so hard that I know he feels it too. His fingers tighten around my thighs, thumbs digging in hard.
“Absolutely,” I say, the words all breathy as my eyes close lightly.
Slipping his finger under my chin, he twists my head and kisses me. “Looks like we have a secret worth keeping.”
My stomach tumbles as his lips press against mine. It flips and rolls, coiling up tight and unraveling into a heavy pile that attempts to drag me down. But Mark holds me, he grips me around the waist and pulls me in against his chest.
What the hell am I doing?
This was supposed to be a one night thing. A quick release, a little sauce on the side to top off the evening, but here I am sucking face with him again, only this time, in my city. I tried, I really did try to convince myself that what I've been feeling is some weird aftermath of really great sex. But the longer he kisses me, the tighter he holds me, the more he whispers in my ear with sweetness, the less I care about what our original intentions were.
Holding my face, he breaks our kiss and smiles. “So, now that I have your attention, when are you going to stop postponing the inevitable and just showcase your talent?”
Laying my head back, I chuckle. “Not gonna happen. It's not in the cards my parents drew for me. Remember, we're art buyers, not art creators.”
“Plastic surgeons.”
“Isn't that just like art? They create a new face or chest or ass for someone else?” Mark gives me a toothy smile as he shrugs his shoulder. “I'm just saying, it's not that far off.”
“You really don't know my parents at all.”
“You're right, but I'm willing to try and get to know them. And I don't care if your mom gives me her stink eye. Hey, maybe you can drop this whole art thing on her, and she'll be so occupied with her hate for this poor country boy, that she'll just agree to anything you say to get rid of me.”
“Oh God. Trust me, you don't want to be on the sharp end of my mother's personality. She'll spear you, put your head on a stick, and set you out to ward off anyone else who thinks about coming close to her daughter. And this art idea will absolutely do that.”
“That could be a problem.” Mark spins me around so I'm facing him, gathering me up in his arms.
Leaning my cheek against his chest, I let him hold me. I love the way this feels. I know I shouldn't, but I do. Squeezing me snugly, he rests his chin on the top of my head.
And then it hits me. Maybe he's right. Not about being the distraction, but about making an impression.
“Hey, you want to come with me tomorrow morning to the charity breakfast my mother put together?”
“Charity breakfast. . .” Pausing, he quirks a brow. “Your mother doesn't strike me as the charity type. I see her more like Scrooge McDuck, diving into a vault of money.”
“Charity looks good, and it goes with the territory.”
“I'd go, but I don't have a suit. I actually don't even own a suit, the one I had for the wedding was a rental.”
“No suit,” I repeat, pushing my chest away from his. “If you had one, would you say yes and go with me?”
“Sure, you're the only reason I'm here. I don't really care to wander around by myself.”
“Then I know just where to take you to fix this suit problem.”
9
Mark
“I don't know about this,” I say, gripping the open edges of the jacket and looking myself over in the mirror.
“It looks good, it looks really good,” Sia comes up behind me, folds the collar down, and runs her hand down the outside of my right arm. Taking my wrist in her hand, she buttons the cuff as she looks at me. “It's like this suit was made for you.”
“She's right, Sir,” the salesman says, pulling the measuring tape off his neck and laying it against my arm. “It's exactly your size.”
“See, I told you. Made for you,” Sia encourages as she takes a step back and smiles. “We'll take it.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say swiftly, holding up a hand to slow her down. “How much is this suit?” I ask the salesman.
“That one is two thousand.”
Balking, I literally gasp out loud. “Are you serious? You can't be serious.”
He nods and points a finger at a rack in the center of the room. “We have some clearance suits that range as low as six hundred.”
Stepping away from the mirror, I thin my lips. “Yeah, there's no way I can spend that kind of money on a suit. I'm sorry, Sia, but it's just too much.”
“Mark, I'm not asking you to buy it. I would never ask you to spend that much on a suit. But you're not paying for it. . .” Pausing, she pulls a credit card from her pocket and grins. “Consider it a welcome to the city gift.”
“No, I can't let you do that. It's too much. I'll probably only wear it this one time. There's no point.” Going back into the changing room, I close the door as I keep talking. “I appreciate the offer, but I just can't accept it.” Hanging the suit back on the hangers, I put my clothes back on and open the door.
Sia is standing with her arms crossed and a little smirk on her face. “Too late, it's already done. The suit is yours.”
“Siobhan,” I say, dropping my eyes to the ground and running a hand through my hair. “I just can't.”
“You don't have a choice, it's a gift. You can't say no to a gift. Besides, it fits you beautifully, that never happens with a suit. My father always has to have his tailored. Every single one has to be cut and sewn to get the type of fit you have with that one. To see you put that on and not need any adjustments means it was meant to be.”
The salesman sweeps between us, taking the suit from my hands and bagging it behind the desk. “You want to know what I think?” he asks me as he zips the cloth bag. “I think you'll learn to never argue with a woman whose made up her mind.” His brows bow high as he brings the suit back to me.
Walking out the door, I shake my head. “I can't believe you paid two grand for this suit.”
“I didn't.”
“What do you mean you didn't?”
“The owner is a friend of my father's, one call and the suit was yours.”
“Are you kidding me? He just gave it to you? Just like that?”
She gives me a flirty smile and bats her long dark lashes. “When your father is a top doctor, his biggest client, and he learns you'll be wearing the suit to a five hundred dollar a plate charity breakfast, he basically forced it on me.”
“Wow, so your family really is a big deal.”
“I guess you could say that. But you know how it is, what you see on the outside isn't always what you get on the inside. They play nice with the people that have power. Fake smiles, exaggerated laughter, quirky little jokes and stories that don't really have a purpose, all in the name of status and money.” Looking down at her phone, her eyes get wide. “Come on, we need to get back.”
Heading back to her place, the doorman gives me the same cautionary glare, but she brushes him off.
“He's not going to bite anyone, Jim, I promise.” She giggles, grabbing me around the arm and pulling me along. “Don't mind him, he's always looked out for me ever since I was a kid. It isn't personal.”
“Easy for you to say. You fit in here, I don't.”
Sia stops me, taking both my shoulders in her hands. “It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I want you here, that's all that matters.”
I lean to kiss her, but she takes a quick step back, her eyes darting to Jim. “Not yet. We still need to keep our secret for now.”
It's hard to hear that. It feels like she punched me in the gut. She wants me here, but she also wants to hide me. It stings. Inhaling a deep breath, I push the feelings away. “Right, our secret.”
Her eyes drift around my face. I'm sure she can see and sense the discomfort I feel. I get that I'm not some rich asshole who has money to throw around, but if it doesn't bother her, why does she care what anyone else thinks?
It's her family. This is her life and you just strolled in like a dark cloud.
I get it. I understand that her family thinks one way and she thinks another. I can also understand that she doesn't want to cause a rift with them. Family is family, and that's important, no matter how difficult they might be.
Opening the door, she looks around. “They're probably in the dining room. Why don't you go put the suit in your room and I'll wait here. Then I'll take you to meet my dad.”
“Is he as kind and welcoming as your mom?”
Her smile widens sarcastically. “Even more welcoming.”
“Great,” I say with a chuckle.
Hanging the suit on the back of the bathroom door, I take a second to fix my hair and clothes. The knot in my gut hardens to stone. Swallowing hard, I clear my throat and ready myself for another awkward silent battle of playing a role.
“Okay, I'm ready to meet your dad,” I say.
“It'll be fine.” Squeezing my hand gently, she hops up on the tips of her toes and kisses my cheek, then takes a quick step back.
I follow her through the living room and kitchen, still in awe at the size of this place. I can hear voices in the hall as we approach a wide open doorway with a soft light breaking in the dark hall.
She steps in first, and I
linger behind her, still partially hidden by the wall. “Hey, Dad,” she says with a sweetness in her voice. “Hey, Mom.”
Her mother doesn't greet her back, she only orders, “Tell him to come in.”
Sia looks over at me behind her shoulder, reaching out her arm and grabbing me by the wrist. Pulling me in front of her, she smiles. “Dad, this is Mark. Mark, this is my father, George Andrews.”
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Andrews.” Holding out my hand, I lean forward.
George hesitates for a second, his eyes looking me up and down as he thumbs the stem of his wine glass. He doesn't say a word, weakly taking my hand and giving it a light shake.
He barely holds my fingers as if he isn't sure he wants to touch me. Grunting softly, he rests back in his chair, glaring up at me under slit lids.
“Did you guys eat dinner already?” Sia asks. She's trying to lighten the tension in the air. “I'm starving.”
Both her parents are just staring at me. Openly gawking like I'm some type of sideshow attraction. Her mother lifts a glass of wine to her mouth and takes a sip.
“We did. I told you six, it's almost seven. You can heat up some leftovers if you're hungry.” She's talking to Sia, but she's looking at me. “Otherwise, you can both head to your respective rooms for the night.”
“Okay,” Sia answers, drawing out the word. “You know, it wouldn't kill either of you to be a little more hospitable to Mark. He is a guest, you know.”
“He's your guest,” her father snaps, pointing at his daughter. “Not ours, yours.”
“Fine.” Her tone drops flat as she spins on her heels. “Let's go, Mark.” Pulling on my sleeve, I follow her back to the kitchen. Stopping at the island, she turns around. “I'm sorry about my parents. I wish they weren't so cold.”
“It's fine. I'm not here for them, remember?”
That gets me a smile. “You hungry?”
Big Man’s Heat Page 7