“I didn’t mean sex. I meant sleep—snoring, drooling, sleep. Have you ever slept with someone else during a storm? Or hell, let’s sleep on the couch. I don’t know. This is seven layers of fucked up.”
“What is?” I asked, silently praying any god or goddess would listen to my tightly wound heartstrings. I stretched my legs out and threw the blanket off, staring at the hardwood floor.
“This, Jenna. Us. I want you. I want you so damn bad my eyes cross, but I’m not relationship material.”
Hearing him say that had me clenching my thighs together to relieve the tension.
He wanted me.
Why was I holding back? Why didn’t I give in? What was so wrong with living and feeling in this moment?With Mark.I wanted to feel everything.
I wasn’t exactly relationship material either, but that didn’t stop me from wanting this, wanting us.
“Tell me a random fact,” he said. “Stop me from taking what I want.”
His eyes were as dark and endless as the night sky, and once again, my mind was clear. I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. The only thing I felt the need to do was climb back onto his lap and rub myself against him like a cat in heat.
I thought for a second, tapping my finger against my lips—if he wasn’t going as insane with lust as me, I’d give him a random fact and take a long bath with my battery-operated boyfriend.
“Did you know your fingers have fingertips, but your toes don’t have toe-tips? And you can tiptoe, but you can’t tip-finger.”
“Huh?” he said, cocking his head toward me and running one hand down his neatly trimmed beard.
He chuckled low in his belly and shook his head, bumping his thigh with mine. My fingertip-tiptoe fact did the trick, but if he was restraining himself because I said it was a bad idea, it was time to let him know I’d changed my mind.
“And you know, I’m not relationship material either? But I won’t stop you from taking what you want.” I whispered, keeping my eyes focused on the floor.
The tension in the room amped up to a thousand, and I swear I could see the ripples of lust filter through the air. Mark took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly.
“Everything will change,” he said, resting one large hand on my thigh.
He brushed his thumb over my bottom lip, and a shudder traveled through my body. Everything would change, but that was fine. I wanted whatever this thing was with him, more than I’d ever wanted it with anyone else. I wanted to give him every part of me—even the weird, twisted, awkward parts. Steadying my nerves, I climbed on his lap and straddled him, locking my arms behind his head and tugging on the short strands of his hair.
“Good.”
It was not a gentle, teasing kiss. Our lips touched, and it consumed me. With each stroke of his tongue, he stole my breath, claiming me, branding me, ruining me for anyone else. His hands wound around my neck, his fingers slipping through my hair as he held me firmly in place.
I was a willing participant, along for the ride, desperate to keep up as his tongue tangled with mine. A low growl escaped his mouth as I sucked on his lip, but I swallowed the sound, surging in to taste him, claim him, and brand him too.
This wasn’t a power struggle because I wanted to give in, wanted to feel his raw power consume me, wanted him to make me burn. And burn I did. One hand traveled down my back and gripped my thigh, pulling me closer. I surged forward, brushing my core against his hard length.
Holy shit.
You know what they said about guys with big feet? Or big hands? It was all true. The equipment Mark was working with should come with a warning label for any unsuspecting veterinarians who happened to climb on for a ride.
I opened my eyes and broke our kiss to look down. Mark did the same, keeping one hand fisted in my hair. My shorts were pushed up high on my thighs, and his thick cock was pressed against my pussy with nothing but flimsy material between us. I closed my eyes and threw my head back, surging forward again to grind against him.
Mark tugged my head to the side and gave me wet, open-mouth kisses down my neck. He desperately sucked on the spot where my neck met my shoulder like he was trying to leave his brand on my skin. I let him, loudly moaning his name in encouragement. He dug his fingertips into my thigh and moved me back and forth, keeping his lips locked on my neck.
He broke away with a wet pop, gazing at me with dark, hooded eyes.
“That’s it. Let me hear you. Tell me what you need.”
I nodded my head, lost in the moment of his hands, his lips, his cock. Hunger, demanding and hot was pooling in my core as I grasped the front of his shirt and pulled it up, wanting to drag my fingernails across his tattoos. He let go of my hair and reached behind his head, pulling his shirt off before reaching for mine. I kept thrusting my hips as I took off my shirt, leaving me in just a thin black bra.
“Tell me,” he demanded again, fisting one hand in my hair and gripping my thigh so hard my movements stilled, and my breath nearly stalled in my throat.
Mark buried his face in between my tits, pulling down the cups of my bra and licking, sucking, worshiping.
