Page 22 of Zodiac Beasts

My consciousness ebbed and flowed. At one point, I recognized something that felt like cold concrete on my cheek, as if I was laying on the garage floor. At another point, I recalled weightlessness, then the smooth slide of sheets over my legs.

When at last I won the battle for my waking mind, I was wrapped in a pillow-like comfort that supported me from every angle. Snuggly, secure, warm, and content. I couldn’t seem to quantify what was contributing to this overwhelming sense of inner peace.

It was after about thirty seconds of consciousness, though with my eyes still closed and with no strength to change that status, that I realized there was a strong arm around my waist. A warm hand rested idly on my breast, palm covering my nipple and fingers perfectly cupping me. A steady breathing against my back synced with the rise and fall of my own chest.

I was a little spoon.

The littlest, most confused spoon in the drawer.

My eyes were crusted over, and it took multiple attempts to engage the muscles before my top and bottom lashes separated. Dryness burned my vision. I squeezed my eyes shut again, hoping to force lubricating tears. It was a battle all its own to fully wake up and find equilibrium.

Then that hand on my breast twitched, and the body behind me started to stir. The once steady breathing ceased and held. Then my big spoon very delicately and very carefully pulled back. He released my right boob, and scooted away.

“By the fucking devil.” Marcus groaned quietly behind me. He scooted further away, and I felt the mattress shift as he got off the bed. I stopped fighting to wake up, and I opted to listen.

“What the fuck was that? That’s not what rejection is supposed to feel like.” Footsteps on carpet grew in distance. “That’s not…” His voice trailed off again. I opened only one eye and only half way, taking a quick peek through the careful veil of my lashes. Marcus was standing in front of his mirror, shirtless with his belt still undone, and his jeans low on his sculpted hips. He turned his head to one side, and he pushed his shaggy hair away from his neck.

His adam’s apple bobbed, and a symbol vaguely resembling the letter ‘m’ appeared prominently just below his sharp jawline.

“That wasn’t… rejection.” His fingertips grazed the fresh black mark, and I felt a buzz run all the way down my spine. It took discipline to remain still and not react. “She didn’t reject me.” A gloss shone in his eyes, while a smile graced his lips. My heart beat picked up several paces. “She really didn’t reject me.” He repeated with a small, quiet laugh. He threw back his head, now tugging on his own hair with both hands. The genuine joy practically radiated through me, and I didn’t know if that was an empathic observation, or a result of a bond.

Was that how Marcus really felt about me? In all of this mess, the provocations, and the full moon nights, was this warmth… him?

I didn’t want him to know I was awake yet. Selfish as it was, seeing someone this happy over the thought of being with me was nearly making me cry. That dry eye issue was now wildly reversed, while the constriction in my throat was making my lip quiver.

I closed my eyes quickly when I saw him start to turn towards the bed. I listened to his soft footsteps as he approached, and I stayed still and pretended to be asleep as he brushed the backs of his fingers across my cheek. He slowly trailed his touch down to his reciprocal mark, and he lingered there for several seconds. I could imagine him admiring me, and it was the first time I’d ever imagined anyone could look at me in that way. I wanted to see his face right now, but I wasn’t ready to ruin the moment.

This tentative, barely there touch followed my jawline, until he reached my lips. A quiet chuckle filled the space between us.

“You are truly perfect, Lila.” He whispered at a level that didn’t want to wake me. I stayed still and focused on the consistency of my breathing, just wanting to listen. Wanting to see what he’d do.

He traced a line down my neck, and he nudged the blanket from my bare shoulder. I could feel his gaze on me with unusual clarity as he slid the covers low enough to expose my breasts. He rounded my breast with the tips of his fingers, then he held the weight of it in his hand.

Marcus traced circles around my nipple until the soft nub stiffened to his touch. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t share his thoughts. All I could feel was that probing lust as he felt me up in my sleep.

Maybe that was also a side effect of whatever we’d just done—how clearly I could feel his emotions now. His desire was loud and clear, and my whole body was reacting with the same need.

Or maybe those weren’t his emotions at all.

He trailed lower, drawing a line down the center of my abdomen. He circled my belly button, then continued his descent, until his touch was teasing the sensitive skin between my navel and my lower lips. Up and down, he feathered strokes that sent electricity to my core. It was everything in my power to keep up the illusion of sleep.

How far will he go? How far did I want him to go? I could wake up now, but the idea that he couldn’t help himself—couldn’t wait—was doing something to me.

“Shhhhh, don’t stir too much, Baby Doll.” His hushed breath was restrained as he slipped his index finger between my folds. He grazed my clit and drew a slick line down my center. “I don’t want to wake you.” He entered me with just the tip of his finger. He sunk in, one knuckle at a time, in tune with the soft sound of his zipper releasing one tooth at a time.

Marcus slid out of me, then dragged my own wetness up my stomach. “Look how well we mixed together.” He added amidst the rustle of clothing. He returned to my pussy and dipped in two fingers, then played inside me like he was massaging his seed into that perfect spot.

I stole a glance, to see his eyes closed softly. His free hand was on his cock, and his occupied hand was mimicking the same motion, as he started urging both of our bodies to completion. His touch was delicious and adept, perfectly in line with my needs. He unraveled slowly, getting himself off as he watched my body react to him.

Seeing him so turned on and out of his mind had me soaking his hand. I closed my eyes again, not wanting him to notice, for fear that he might stop. I wanted to savor what he thought was this secret, private moment, and I wanted to see and feel everything it was doing to him.

“Fuck, Lila.” He whispered hoarsely, and I couldn’t help but realize the climax climbing through me was compounding now, as though I was fully feeling us both. His breathing was erratic, while I was forced to keep mine calm, and I hoped he would be too distracted to notice the way my heart was pounding. I couldn’t disguise that no matter how hard I tried. “Did the mate pact knock you out completely?” He asked like it was a test, while he fingered my clit with quick, but soft and well placed flicks. He sucked in a sharp breath, and he shook out relief in a low moan.

When he finally found the edge of his sanity, I felt that hot burst ripple through my nerves with force. His pleasure flooded my senses, while his come painted my breasts, and I was practically convulsing as he brought me to orgasm with the added intensity of his own. My mind blanched like the stars themselves had exploded in my soul.

The power of that release rocked me to my core, before the weight of tiredness and relaxation and relief dropped on me like a stone.

Marcus slipped his finger into my mouth and pinned my tongue. The flavor of his release coated my taste buds, as he used me to clean his orgasm from his fingertips. He slowly withdrew, painting my lips on the way out, and lingering over the place where Adrian’s mark was supposed to be. Then he leaned down a pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’re mine now.” He said, before he stood from the bed, and zipped himself up.