29. Marcus
Chapter twenty-nine
Marcus
Sitting across a picnic table from Amara, Brooke’s chin is in her palms watching her eat her plate of Pad Thai–made with cashews instead of peanuts. The girl hardly takes the time to breathe as she shovels it into her mouth, her little fist wrapped around the fork handle. We double checked her allergies with her mom before starting our dish, and even though all the kids are supposed to share and try each other’s food, Amara doesn’t want anything else. She’s so excited about her Pad Thai, you’d think it was her favorite food. Maybe it is now.
Brooke leans back, shifting my attention to her. “You’re good with kids.” My heart rate spikes at the potential directions of this conversation, not ready for a discussion we’re too early in a relationship to have, one that might scare her away before I’ve fully won her over.
“Yeah, I have a sister.”
“You do?” Her eyes light with recognition. “The girl in the picture on your bookshelf?”
Pressing my palms into my thighs, I nod. “Yeah. Her given name is Samira. But we call her Mira.”
“She’s adopted? ”
I nod again, letting a smile crack through. I fucking love my little sister. She’s one of my favorite people. She’s sassy and smart, follows me around with file folders filled with drawings that she pretends are work. “From Haiti. My parents adopted her during my second year of college, when she was a baby. She’s five now.”
“Wow. That’s amazing. Isn’t it expensive to adopt?”
My palms press harder into my thighs, straightening my posture. When all was said and done it cost me almost fifty grand. My parents never would have been able to afford it on their own, and I didn’t see a point in them going into debt for their dream when I could easily afford it. Plus, it's the least I could do after all the support they’ve given me. Maybe now is the right time to tell Brooke. “Yeah, actually . . .” Dammit. I cannot use Mira’s existence in our life as leverage for Brooke shifting her mindset. Manipulation is the top reason I think most rich people are shit. “Yeah. It did cost a lot.”
“See. It’s not fair. People who do real good in the world are the ones who deserve money. Not all these people who throw it around for show, taking from donations to host events in the first place.”
Today is not the day. Not after last night. Not on our first day of being real, and certainly not while her mind is closed off the way it is right now, surrounded by people she despises. I want to tell her when the time is right, not just because her piece of shit ex is forcing my hand. “But she’s worth it. You’ll love her.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
“When we get home,” I decide and hope we don’t fall apart by then.
Brooke’s gaze catches on something in the distance. “Hey, do you want to get out of here for a while? ”
I follow her gaze to where her mom is talking to a few high-society women but glances toward us like she’s headed our way next. I stand, reaching for Brooke’s hand. “Let’s go.”
We say a quick goodbye to Amara, and Brooke weaves me through the tables. I peek back and smirk, watching Mrs. Fields try to exit her conversation without success. I follow Brooke toward her abandoned laundry room, sliding the door to the shoot open with more ease than the first time when it stuck. She steps onto the pulley cart, keeping her eyes on the hallway. I climb in after her, ducking my head and scrunching to fit.
Brooke closes the chute door as I reach for the thick rope, working it through my hands to bring us to the floor below. The platform jolts, the only indication we’ve hit the cement beneath us, considering I can’t see a damn thing. I also don’t have my phone this time. Her screen comes to life, the photo of the waterfall from our hike barely illuminating the space around us. She flips on the flashlight and hops out of the chute. I follow her lead, ducking out from the cramped space and stretching into the room. It’s exactly how it was earlier this week–four cement walls, no windows, a switch by the exit door that presumably turns on the overhead single lightbulb and an outlet and dryer hookup on one wall.
Placing her phone face down inside the chute, the flashlight shines up the pulley shaft. Her next move brings her in front of me. Her fingers slide under the hem of my T-shirt, and she presses against my abs with her palms. I oblige her for now, letting her back me against the wall.
“Hi,” she whispers before pressing a kiss to my lips.
I weave my fingers into her bun, messing it up enough for her hair tie to snap free, and pull her closer. Fucking hell, she’s good. Her lips, her hair and how it smells of salty ocean air, and . . . I groan, Brooke’s hand cupping me over my jeans.
“My turn,” she breathes against my mouth as she undoes the button of my pants. The metal of my zipper unthreads in a slow, smooth motion like she plans to torture me. That’s the last thing that will be happening. Maybe I’ve only known her for a few weeks, but it feels like I’ve been waiting for her forever. Her hand slides under my briefs.
Goddamn, it feels good to have her touching me. Our shadows play on the walls next to us, but I keep my eyes on her. Her fist grips my base and she runs it the full length of me, hardening with her stroke. Gripping the hem of my shirt, I tug it over my head in one pull, then drop it to the cool cement floor.
It’s not that I expect what she’ll do next. But she’s going to have my cock in her mouth in the next thirty seconds, and the least I could do is provide her some comfort before I stretch her legs over my shoulders in a few minutes.
She barely adjusts my shirt under her knees before she drops them to the ground. Looping her fingers over the edge of my jeans and briefs, she gives a hard tug, my erection springing free in front of her. I kick my shoes off and step out of my jeans. Without wasting more time, her hands smooth around my thighs, and without warning she sucks my tip into her mouth and slides the length of me until I hit the back of her throat.
Fucking.
Hell.
A groan escapes me. I gather her fallen hair in my hand, pulling it over her shoulder to get a better view. My grip tightens in her waves, and I pull her back, her tongue dragging along the underside of my cock as I do. She sucks as I push her head forward, my balls tightening from watching me disappear inside her mouth. She lets me take the lead, obeying my unspoken commands and takes me deep with each thrust.
I pull her back, and she sucks hard on the tip, her tongue twirling around. I hold her in place, not sure if I can handle being deep in her throat again. She looks up at me through her shadowed lashes from the glow of her phone flashlight across the room and that alone forces me to tip-toe the dangerous line between wanting to come and needing to. I tug her away, encouraging her to stand.
Gripping her lower back, I step her across the room, my hard cock pressed against her. The back of her legs hit the wall behind us, her ass level with the edge of the laundry dumbwaiter platform. I lean to whisper in her ear as my fingers unbutton her shorts. “If I’m going to come, it’s going to be inside you, with you pulsing around me.”
Chills immediately shiver through her, the bumps covering her skin just as evident as I slide her shorts and thong down her legs. She grips my shoulders as she steps out of them, then I pin her against the hollow frame behind her, holding her upright with my hand tight to her back. My other palm runs flat over her, my fingers teasing her entrance only for a few small circles before driving inside. Her gasp unsteadies her, and her hands fall to the support beams on either side of the laundry chute opening. I finger fuck her hard, thrusting inside her until she’s wet enough to take me.
“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” It’s meant to be a thought and a personal beratement, but the words come out as a growl .
“It’s fine.” Her breath is heavy, lost in search of ecstasy already. “I track my cycle. I checked a few days ago. We’re good. If you trust me.”
I consider questioning her, but fuck, it’s hot that she’s thought about this, that she’s prepared for it. And a few days ago? Before I even kissed her? I groan into a kiss, wanting the connection everywhere possible. Without breaking it, I hoist her up on the ledge by her hips, then drag my hands tight over her thighs.
When I get to her knees, I break our kiss and reach for her calves, stretching her legs over my shoulders. She makes the smallest indication that her legs are too tight, and I pause. “You do yoga every day, love. I know you’re flexible enough.”
“You got it, boss .” She pairs her words with a challenging smile, and all my patience for being inside her disappears. Thank fuck she relaxes her legs, her ankles hooking on my shoulders with ease. I grip her left ankle, kissing the inside of her calf and leaving a new trail of chills across her skin. Running my hands back up her thighs, I step closer, the tip of my cock teasing her wet entrance. Goddamn, the anticipation alone might pull me under.
“Marcus,” she whines.
I wait for her to make eye contact. “I’m not fucking you for fake. If we do this, it’s real.” I’d stop if she told me otherwise, but I’m thankful as fuck when she nods.
“It’s real.”
“Then hold on tight, love.”
I note the white of her fingers, tight around the wood beams, and drive into her.
She screams out, her cry echoing through the elevator shaft. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen until her head falls back on my next thrust, the light from her phone flashlight a halo around her head. My fingers dig into her hips, holding her in place as I pump in and out of her. She’s tight, but so fucking wet, and the perfect friction builds, a precise fit each time I slip deep inside. It’s like the air is being sucked from the room, pulling me tighter to her, deeper, connecting us more. I thrust again, too hard to kiss her, but her eyes are focused between us anyway, watching where she consumes me and lets me go just long enough before pulling me back in.
She’s pulsing around me, tightening as her orgasm builds. I hate that her shirt still separates us, wanting to twist her nipples and palm her perfect breasts the way I did last night. Fuck that. I hold her tight to me, relishing the stillness of being inside of her. Her brows scrunch together. “Take your shirt off,” I demand, my thumbs brushing the apex of her thighs, not wanting to let go.
Releasing her grip on the beams, she tugs her shirt over her head and tosses it on the floor behind me. She reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, leaning away from me just enough that the light behind her creates a soft glow over her body.
I run my finger across the skin below her breast on the right, over the script inked into her. Amor fati.
“Love of one’s fate,” she tells me between heavy breaths, her hands abandoning their mission to get her naked and falling to my waist. Her thumb rubs over the bottom of my koi fish tattoo, her eyes locking on mine. “Everything that happens in our lives, good and bad, is essential.”
“Acceptance,” I say.
“Gratitude.”
I want to learn every inch of this woman. Understand the depths of her brain. Everything–the good and bad–that made her the goddess she is in front of me. But right now, I need her.
Smoothing my thumbs below her breasts again, I reach around her back, unhooking her bra and watching the straps fall off her shoulders before tossing it aside.
So much fucking better. I groan, pulling her closer with a grip on her lower back, holding her steady as I resume my thrusts. She’s heaven.
I take her nipple in my mouth, biting enough to elicit a moan from her sweet lips. Her hands fall to my hair, her nails scratching against my head as I swirl my tongue over the hardened peak. Fuck it’s hot how turned on she is.
There’s no friction left as I drive into her hard enough that she finds her grip on the beams again to steady herself. I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit and rubbing fast circles, my hips steady with the way they fuck her. She bites into her lip, her eyelids fluttering closed. She releases a cross between a sigh and a cry, and I know I’ve got her. A tingling sensation tightens my balls, rising through my cock. Then I explode, and it’s like the room is filled with oxygen, relief and life all at once.
My uncontrolled twitch slows my pace enough that Brooke lets go, and I let her legs fall from my shoulders. With her legs now locked around my waist, she grips either side of my neck with her hands and crashes her lips to mine. Our tongues tangle, refusing to leave time for a breath as our kiss deepens, as if it’ll draw out our ecstasy. She’s contracting hard around me, intensifying my release in a way I’ve never experienced ever. With anyone.
I slow my hips, our kiss slowing in sync. It’s less frantic but just as intense.
I’m so fucking gone for this girl.
I decide right then that she'll never be anything but mine, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that’s true even when she finds out my secret.
Stopping my movement, I break our kiss. Brooke’s forehead presses into mine, our sweat hot against each other, and I fucking love it.
“That was . . .” she starts but drifts off.
“Incredible?”
“Worth every bad moment I’ve ever lived to get to this one.”
I press my mouth to hers, soft as I pull her tight to me, not wanting to disconnect yet. I feel her smile on my lips. “I guess we should get back,” she whispers against them.
“Too bad you gave your bandana away. Might have helped hide the sex hair.” I run my fingers through the sweaty strands framing her face.
“Or could have helped you tie me up.”
I smirk, running my thumb over her lip before gripping her chin and kissing her again. “I definitely have something to help with that.”
“The ties under your bed?” She grins.
“You’ve been snooping through my room?” For as private of a person as I am, I don’t care at all. This girl could get away with murder when it comes to me at this point. And knowing she’s curious about and interested in being tied up. I’m confident I’ve met my dream girl.
“I prefer to call it research for what I’m getting myself into.”
“Oh, you have no idea, love.”