6. Anna
Mark’s kiss isn’t like the shy kiss of a boy in seventh grade who kind of likes you - his kiss is dominant and demanding like a man who made up his mind that you were it, that in this moment, kissing you is the only thing that matters.
That’swhat Mark makes me feel as he slides his hands in my hair and tugs my bun loose, groaning into my mouth and coaxing out a moan of my own.
“Mark,” I moan, feeling like my body’s on fire. I’ve never been this hot before - not when Jimmy Parkins held my hand by the baseball field or when he kissed me behind the bleachers. Not even when the AC went out at the diner in the middle of a double shift one night last summer.
I’ve never felt like this, and it’s all because of Mark. He fills me up like nothing else ever has, makes me feel whole when I know I’ve got missing parts, and at the end of it all, I know I’ll be okay.
It’s more than anyone has ever done for me, and I never want it to end.
His hands grip my waist feverishly as he stands from his bar chair and towers over me, the fine lines of his white button up shirt smoothing beneath my hands. He stops me from unbuttoning his shirt and lifts my chin until I’m staring up at him. “Not today, sweetheart. This is about you.”
“Me?” No one’s made anything about me in years. I don’t remember what that feels like.
He leans in and presses his lips to mine more gently than before, his tongue sliding against the bruise he’s surely made on my bottom lip. “Just relax, Anna. Are you comfy?”
His amber eyes search mine and I nod. “Yeah, but—” My words break off in a gasp as he tilts my head to one side and spreads kisses down my neck. Oh.
“Good. I could be down there a while.”
“Down—“ I sigh breathlessly and scrape his scalp with my nails. “—where?”
Mark’s chuckle sends tingles down to my toes as his fingertips curl into the waistband of my pajama shorts. “Wherever you want me, Anna. Tell me where you’d like me to kiss.”
I haven’t the faintest idea. I’ve heard things at school, of course, about what people do with each other when they’re in love. Or when they’re just dating. Or when they have an itch. But I haven’t experienced any of those things - and I haven’t exactly had time to explore my own body to figure out what kind of itch needs scratched.
I bite my lip as nerves bubble up inside my chest, but Mark smoothes them away with slow kisses across my collarbone. “Relax, baby. Do you want me to show you what you might like?” He nips a sensitive spot I didn’t know existed and I moan out a yes. Each time he kisses my skin, a jolt of electricity shoots down my chest and into my nipples before settling between my thighs. I want him to kiss me there. But asking for it when he’s already given me so much - a home, clothes, attention - feels needy.
The last thing I want is for Mark to get bored of me because I’m being needy.
Slowly, he lifts my new white cotton shirt from my chest until my breasts are exposed - my nipples pink and pebbled and aching. He groans and licks his lips, attacking my mouth the same moment his warm, calloused hands slide up from my waist to cup my breasts from below. He teases the tips with his thumbs, gently, until I throw my head back and whine. The pressure between my thighs is too much - I’m squirming in the chair so much that Mark pins me in place by forcing his hips between my legs.
“Wrap your legs around me, Anna.” He removes his hands from my chest to guide my thighs around his hips, pulling my ass so far forward in the chair that I’m barely seated at all.
Impossible heat, hard and rigid, presses against the apex of my thighs and another jolt of pleasure, stronger this time, takes my breath away. Mark curses loudly as I arch my back so that all of me, from the swell of my breasts to the slick heat pooling between my thighs, molds against his body.
“Good girl.” The praise comes out as a breathy groan, but Mark cups my cheek affectionately as he lowers his lips towards my left breast. “Good girls get rewarded, sweetheart.” With a quick swipe of his tongue, he wets his lips before wrapping them around my pink bud and flicking his tongue back and forth slowly.
I cry out as more electric jolts zing through me with each flick, leaving me a mumbling mess of moans as I grind on his covered erection.
Slowly, with practiced ease, Mark rolls his hips in time with my jerky movements and slides his hands beneath my thin shorts to palm my ass and force my hips closer to his. “Fuck, Anna, baby,” he hisses, taking a ragged breath against my rib cage. “I promise to give you this cock, sweetheart. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He punctuates the question with a hard thrust of his hips, pressing the coarse denim so far forward that it bunches up my shorts between my slick lips to make way for his head. He rests his cock there, in the in-between, not really inside of me but not outside of me either.
I moan since forming words is impossible, and he exhales harshly as he pulls his entire body back, creating a thin layer of electricity between us. “Fuck, baby, you’re soaked for me. I’ll give you my cock, I promise. But not yet.”
I want him. I’ve wanted him since the moment I saw him yesterday. Some part of me knew it, gravitating towards him like a moth to his black flame, and brought me here to this very moment. “Why not?” The question is a whine and he tuts as he steps farther back and tugs my shorts off my body completely.
“You’re not ready for me yet, sweetheart. I have to take care of you first.”
The cool air across my slick center sends shivers across my skin, but I don’t have to wait long before Mark’s warm breath ghosts my core. “You smell divine, Anna,” he says in between kisses down my inner thigh. “And I bet you taste even better.” He teases my slit with the pad of his index finger and groans loudly, until I hear a definite wet pop as he sucks my desire off his finger. “Fuck, Anna.”
I’m trembling by the time he finally slides his tongue up my slit, from the very bottom all the way to the top, and my chest convulses as my body doesn’t know how to react or what sound to make. Instead, I remain silent as Mark spreads my lips with his tongue, tasting parts of me I’ve never dared touch, groaning as he grips my thighs to stop me from moving away from his touch.
The pressure that’s been building deep in my belly erupts without warning and I forget how to breathe as indescribable sensation zips throughout my entire body, returning back in waves to the central focus point of Mark’s mouth as he suddenly sucks - hard - on the sharpest bundle of nerves resting at the tip of my molten center and I scream.
One of his hands latches over my mouth as he plunges two fingers deep inside and stretches me, filling me up slowly only to pull them out in quick movements, repeating the process over and over, curling his fingers inside me on each outward pull.
“I want to feel you come around my fingers, Anna,” he grunts, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as my inner walls clench around him. His movements still for the briefest second before he regains his composure and sinks his fingers back inside. “You want to make me happy, don’t you, Anna?”
My chest swells at the notion that I can make Mark happy. There’s nothing I want more right now.
“Look at me, sweetheart, and answer. Nod if you’re unable to speak.”
It’s hard to keep my eyes open when, with each drag of his fingers, the deep, toe-curling pleasure builds higher and higher. I’m already so close. Again. I nod, panting hotly, as I open my eyes.
“Good girl.” The praise washes over me and I come instantly, holding my breath as the waves crash through me.
“Fucking beautiful.”
He doesn’t stop - he speeds up. His eyes, dark flames of raw lust, bore into mine as he forces a third orgasm from me with just his fingers.
I haven’t even registered that he’s removed his hands from my body before I see him cleaning my desire from them. Not only are his fingers coated in my essence, but his wrist shines in the afternoon sunlight from where my release dripped down his fingers. Our eyes meet and he smiles with a mixture of pride and wickedness. “Such a sweet girl, coming for her guardian.”
My heartbeat ticks up a beat as reality sets in. He’s right - he is my legal guardian. Or he was, until I turned eighteen. I’m not fully sure how the legal system works. Can we get in trouble for this?
Mark doesn’t seem worried as he smoothes my hair back. “Sit up, now, while I cook you a fresh breakfast. Your first plate’s gone cold.”
He presses a quick kiss to my forehead before helping me back into my t-shirt and walking around the island to the fridge. I watch him for a minute before I gather the courage to speak. His bar chair, made of what I assume to be leather, is completely soaked beneath me. I’ve made a huge, filthy mess in his kitchen, but he’s acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Um, Mark? Don’t you want me to… touch you?”
His cock is still rock hard in his jeans, as evidenced by the massive tenting jutting out from his hips, and he’s left it untouched save for the damp patch remaining from when he wedged the tip between my nether lips. I shiver at the memory and Mark’s eyes train on the movement.
“Of course I want you to touch me, Anna. But it’s my job to take care of you.” He points the spatula at me before turning back to the stove. “We’ll have plenty of time to take care of my needs later.”
I try not to think about what taking care of Mark’s needs looks like as he cooks a second meal for us. After what we just went through, I don’t think I can take a single bite… that is, until the plate is actually in front of me, and I practically inhale every bite. Not only do I eat what’s on my plate but half of Mark’s as well. He talks to me the entire time, asking me about my goals in life, what my current plans are, and wondering aloud about how he can help me achieve them.
It’s all very surreal in the best kind of way, and within the next hour, I’m napping on the couch with my head in his lap as he combs his fingers through my messy hair and plants sweet kisses across my brow.
I don’t know how I went from having the worst luck in life to this, but for once, I’m not complaining.