Chapter 13
13
RYAN
I can’t stop laughing. It’s to the point I have tears in my eyes, threatening to stream down my face. “He did not!” There’s nothing left on our plates, the food long consumed as we sit at the table and talk.
“Oh, he did. The moment TD opened the door to the locker room, Logan released the baby pig. It went screaming through the room, running over anything and anyone he could.”
I continue to laugh, picturing this cute little Charlotte’s Web baby pig running through a locker room, slamming into a room full of burly, sweaty high school football players. “What happened then?”
“Well, the pig stress-shit all over the locker room, and when someone finally caught it, there was quite the mess.”
“How much trouble did they get in?”
He grins. “Well, they had to run the entire football practice, and as soon as it was over, run some more. Then, after the shit sat in the locker room and baked, they had to go in and clean it all up.”
I shake my head, picturing the disgusting scene and wishing I hadn’t. “That’s so nasty,” I say, wiping the moisture out of the corners of my eyes with a napkin.
“I was told it was a pretty gross scene, but neither regret it. In fact, I think they’re weirdly proud of that prank.”
I study him, the crinkle around his eyes as he smiles and the relaxed way he leans back in his chair. Marcus is older than me, that’s obvious. He was approximately my age when he built this cabin. His grandpa helped him build it, and he’s been gone a few years now. That means he’s probably mid-thirties, roughly eight to ten years older than my twenty-six.
“Did you play?” I ask, wondering more about his youth.
He shakes his head. “Nope. I worked. Sports weren’t really my thing.”
“Me either,” I say, making a face. “Well, I didn’t work,” I add with an awkward chuckle. I didn’t exactly need to work either. I grew up with everything I could have possibly wanted. Considering my trust fund is large enough to support a small country, I don’t have to work now, but I can’t imagine my life without what I do. I know it’s not curing cancer or saving endangered animals, but I love it and feel I’m doing something worthy.
“You work now,” he reasons.
“Yeah,” I reply, remembering how cruel the media was when I announced my makeup line. My mom wouldn’t let me dip into my trust fund to back it, so she helped. Once word got out that the Jade Holmes was financing the start-up on my business, they were relentless about digging into my life. They found photos of me at parties and brought to light any and all of my shortcomings. They were ruthless, parading my dating history in front of their viewers and making me out to be some wild child.
“Wanna take a walk?”
His question pulls me out of my head. “Sure.”
Marcus stands up and collects our dirty dishes, setting them beside the sink. “I’ll take care of these later. Come on,” he says, holding out his hand.
I take it willingly, letting him lead me toward the French doors at the back of the house. Buddy is hot on our heels, clearly anxious to go outside. “Do we need his leash?”
He drops my hand and holds open the door for me to exit. “No, he doesn’t venture too far away from me. If we were going somewhere new, I’d say yes, but as long as we stay in my backyard, I trust him to stay close.”
The moment we’re outside, Buddy runs over to pee before returning to our side. He picks up a stick along the way and carries it as we head toward a pathway opposite from the one I use to move from his cabin to mine. “Where are we headed?”
“Does it matter?” he asks, hands shoved in his pockets.
I consider his response. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
The temperature drops the moment we’re under the coverage of trees, and I wish I would have brought a sweater. I bring my arms to my chest, running my hands over my upper arms. “Cold?”
“Just a bit chilly.”
“Hold up,” he says, turning around. “Stay.”
I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or the dog, but we both stop and wait. Buddy lies down and starts chewing on the stick he was carrying, as if he has not one care in the world after his owner took off at a fast pace toward the house. “What do you think he’s doing, Buddy? Leaving us alone in the woods to get eaten by bears?”
The dog glances up at me but ultimately goes back to tearing apart his stick.
“You’ll protect me from a bear, right, Buddy?”
After a couple of minutes, I hear the snapping of a stick behind me. I spin around and spot Marcus jogging toward us, something in his hand. “Here,” he says the moment he reaches my side.
It’s a sweatshirt, and as he holds it up for me, I can tell it’s a big one. “Thanks,” I reply.
The next thing I know, he’s helping me into the oversized sweatshirt. Not only am I surrounded by instant warmth, but I can smell him. It’s embedded in the fabric, wrapping around me like a big hug. Unable to help myself, I bring the sleeve up to my nose and inhale.
“It should be clean. It was in my closet,” he says, taking a step back. His eyes rake over me and suddenly darken, as if he really likes what he sees. I’m sure it’s not the massive sweatshirt I’m swimming in, but perhaps the fact it’s his.
“It’s perfect, thank you.”
After a few more seconds of him watching me, we continue our stroll. Two squirrels run past us, chasing each other up one tree and down another. Buddy runs ahead, jumping around and watching the two animals play. A raccoon scurries from behind a tree and slips into a hole at the base of another tree. I’ve never experienced this kind of nature, with woodland creatures just running amuck, before.
It's a bit…thrilling. And more enjoyable than I ever expected.
When the pathway gives way to a clearing, I gasp. The beach isn’t like any I’ve been on before. It lacks the clean, white sand and crystal blue water I’m accustomed to. Instead, there’s just this beautiful sunset over the lake that reflects a thousand shades of oranges, pinks, and yellows. A few boats dot the expansive body of water, and I can see cabins scattered around the shore with families outside enjoying the night. It’s…simple.
Breathtaking.
I’ve witnessed hundreds of sunsets accompanying amazing views, but this one rates pretty high.
“This is one of my favorite spots,” Marcus states, breaking through my private thoughts.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yep,” he says.
Something in his tone has me turning his way. Only, he’s not looking at the gorgeous sunset. He’s looking at me. A rush of arousal sweeps through me, landing firmly between my legs.
I don’t know who moves first, but the next thing I know, his hands are holding my head as his lips press firmly to my own. This kiss doesn’t turn ravenous, at least not right away. It’s gentler, sweeter, almost romantic. His mouth still takes control, but I don’t feel possessed by him. I feel…cherished.
Kissing Marcus is unlike any kiss I’ve ever experienced. My first few boyfriends were always rushed and fumbly. They were all tongue, usually too wet to make it enjoyable. I dated the son of a movie star for a handful of months, and he was awful. Worse than the ones I had when I was a teenager. I ended up breaking up with him because I couldn’t get over the fact he was constantly trying to tongue fuck me, and not in the good way. His tongue action in the form of kissing was a touch on the eager side.
Then there was Vaughn, who, surprisingly, didn’t seem that interested in much kissing. He hated PDA, so I assumed it had something to do with that. But that doesn’t explain why he didn’t want to kiss when we were in private and especially when we were intimate. Of course, now, I know why.
Fucker.
That leads me to Marcus, who practically has a PhD in the act. His lips are firm, his tongue masterful, and his spit not overwhelming. Kissing him is quite enjoyable, actually, and it just goes to show how lackluster my sexual life had been up to this point, because if a man can kiss this good, surely, he can do other things just as well, right?
Buddy barks nearby, letting us know he’s getting tired of being ignored.
“Was that not okay?” he asks, a bit of hesitation filling his hazel eyes.
“No, no, it was very okay,” I reassure him, holding on to his arms and praying he wants to continue the kiss. I clear my throat and add, “You’re quite good at this.”
“At what?” he asks, a hint of mischief reflecting in his eyes as a grin plays on his lips.
“Kissing. It must be your thing,” I reply with a little giggle.
A single eyebrow shoots up toward the bill of his hat. “My thing? I don’t think it’s my thing. I rarely do it, actually. I think my thing has more to do with this other thing I can do with my tongue,” he says with a very playful and slightly husky tone.
His comment makes me smile. This mischievous side is one I’ve not really seen of Marcus yet, and I like it. But even though I’d love to talk more about this thing he does with his tongue, I can’t get past the first part of his statement. “Why do you rarely kiss?”
He holds my gaze for a few moments before dropping down and picking up a stick, severing our connection completely. He gives it a toss, sending Buddy sprinting after it. We both watch the dog grab his prize and run back through the water and dirt, leaving puppy footprints in his wake.
When Buddy drops the stick at his feet, Marcus scoops it up and gives it another toss. As the dog takes off to retrieve it once more, the man beside me gives me his full attention. “Kissing usually means intimacy. I don’t usually do much of that.”
Now it’s my turn to be confused. “Really?”
“Nope,” he replies, picking up the stick and tossing it a third time.
“Ex-girlfriends?” I ask, trying to figure him out. He’s like a one-thousand-piece puzzle and you don’t have the box that shows you the picture.
He shrugs his shoulders and watches Buddy return with his stick. “A few. I work a lot. The hours I keep can be hard for a woman to deal with.” He meets my gaze and says, “When you run your own repair business and have the only tow truck in the area, the hours can be long. Women tend to find coming in second hard to deal with.”
His words are heavy and eye-opening. My job can be difficult and stressful, the day is long, but there’s always a break somewhere. For Marcus, he’s at the mercy of everyone else. After working long days, he could also have to work long nights, something I’ve never had to do.
“That’s kind of sad,” I state honestly. “You’re really good at it.”
The corner of his mouth curls up. “Yeah?”
“Definitely. I like kissing you,” I find myself confessing, feeling a tad vulnerable in the moment.
He steps toward me, placing a big, rough hand on my hip. His fingers hold a touch of pressure, but not enough to hurt. “I don’t seem to mind kissing you either,” he says, his eyes burning darker than I’ve ever witnessed.
“Then, perhaps we include kissing in whatever happens, even though it’s intimate and you don’t do that. I mean, our time together has an expiration date, right?”
“Correct,” he replies, pulling me toward him so my body is pressed to his. “I can handle it if you can.”
“I can,” I confirm, dancing my fingers up his rock-hard chest. “One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“You mentioned something about using your tongue for other things. When do we get to that?”
His slow grin turns wolfish. “Whenever you want, Princess.”
“Well, I seem to have a little time now.”
His sudden movement almost causes me to fall on my face, because instantly, he’s no longer standing in front of me. He grasps my hand and all but drags me back in the direction we originally came. Marcus whistles for Buddy, who instantly falls in line beside him.
“I can’t believe how well he listens to you. You’d think he’s been your dog for years, not days.”
“Yeah, I realized pretty quickly he’s well-trained, which is why I can’t believe someone just tossed him out.”
I move quickly on the pathway, careful to avoid sticks and anything else I could trip over. “You don’t think he’s just lost?”
Marcus glances down at the dog. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t have on a collar, and as skinny as he is, he’s been on his own for a bit. Plus, Pine Village is a really small town and none of my friends recognized him or recalled seeing a missing dog flyer around. Honestly, I think he was dumped, probably from a neighboring town or maybe even by someone who visited the Bluff Preserves National Park.”
“I can’t believe someone dumped him,” I say, my heart breaking for the dog who most likely has experienced a rougher life.
“Me either. We’re going to the vet tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll have some more answers then.”
“Are you going to keep him?”
We break through the pathway into the yard surrounding Marcus’s gorgeous cabin. He looks down at the dog, who seems to be smiling up at his new owner. Even without Marcus responding, I know the answer to my question. I can see it in his eyes.
“Yeah, I think I will.”
We reach the porch and jog up the steps together. Before he opens the door, he spins around and pins me with a look. “Before we go in there, I need you to know you can stop this at any point. And we don’t have to do anything when we get inside.”
“You don’t want to?” I ask, my heart starting to gallop with both anticipation and dread. Is he breaking this off before it begins?
“Oh, I want to, Princess. Bad.” To confirm his point, he takes my hand and places it on his crotch. His cock is…wow. Huge. Hard. Ready. “But if you’re not ready, that’s okay.”
“Marcus?” I ask, stepping into his personal space and pressing my body against his. “Take me inside.”
The door opens as I’m swept into his embrace. With one arm, he carries me inside, my feet never touching the ground until we’re in the living room. His eager mouth presses to mine. Immediately, I open, allowing his tongue to delve inside. He spins me around and lifts, setting me on the back of the couch. Stepping between my legs, he pulls me against him as my legs wrap around his waist.
“I’ve been thinking about this since the night I found you on the side of the road,” he whispers, running his mouth down the column of my neck.
“Really? I thought you hated me.”
“I was incredibly attracted to you, and it bothered me.”
“Why?”
He pulls back enough to meet my gaze. “Because I didn’t like the way you made me feel. I wanted you, but didn’t want to want you. Does that make sense?”
I nod, understanding completely. “Same, buster. Same.”
He takes my mouth with a bit more urgency this time, deepening the kiss and making my toes curl. “What do you say we get this off?” he asks, sliding my dress up and exposing my thighs.
“Sounds like an amazing idea.”
Lifting my arms and balancing on the couch, I hold up my arms as he assists me in removing the sweatshirt. “I’ve been dying to get beneath one of these little sundresses since that night too.”
“Well, tonight’s your lucky night,” I say, slipping one spaghetti strap down my bare arm.
He follows the motion, his eyes riveted to the strap.
Suddenly, he reaches up and stops me from slipping my arm completely out of the strap. “Hold up.”
“What?” I ask, wondering what could possibly be wrong. Getting naked is sort of the first step before embarking into a sexually gratifying night.
A lazy grin plays across his lips. “I have an idea.”
He reaches around me and picks me up off the couch, my legs wrapping tightly around his waist. “What are you doing?” I ask, holding on for dear life, even though I know he can carry me. Marcus has proven to be plenty strong.
He walks over and makes sure the front door is locked before taking off for the bedroom. Neither of us pay Buddy any attention, even though he’s right behind us as we head up the stairs. Once we reach the bedroom, he all but tosses me onto the bed. I bounce a little and can’t help but giggle as I settle into the middle of the mattress.
He stands beside the bed, his eyes devouring me. “I’m going to eat your pussy, Princess, until you come. Then I’m going to fuck it and make you come again.”
Holy shit, Marcus Wright is a dirty talker.
My mouth goes completely dry at his direct words. My nipples pebble hard and my panties are soaked.
Is this man real?
Gorgeous, rugged, and a filthy talker. He’s the trifecta of ultimate masculinity, something I never expected to be attracted to or crave. And I definitely crave Marcus and what he’s promising. That big dick energy you hear others boasting about? Yep, he totally has it. In spades.
There’s only one thing I can say right now.
“Sign me up.”