Chapter Twenty-Three
DELANEY
We entered his room, and this time I noticed the clean lines, the low, wide bed dressed in beige linens, a denim blue comforter, and navy accents that matched the color of the shiplap wall behind it. It was just like the rest of the house—minimal and intentional.
But on the nightstand was my lip balm. I must have dropped it without noticing.
He’d put it there. Never mentioned it. And hadn’t dropped it in a drawer or given it back.
Just kept a small place for it like it belonged on his nightstand.
I didn’t say anything. I kind of loved that a piece of me had been living in his bedroom without me there.
He kissed me just inside the doorway—unhurried, one hand sliding under the hem of my shirt—and I made a conscious effort to stop inspecting his room and just be here, present in my own body.
Marc was not, as it turned out, in any kind of rush.
He tugged my shirt over my head, unhooked my bra with the practiced efficiency of someone who had thought about this many times, and laid me on the bed. Then he stood at the foot of it and looked at me with the singularly focused attention of a man who considered what was happening a privilege.
It was a lot to be looked at like that.
He removed my shoes. Then my socks—which should not have been as intimate as it was, but somehow he made it so before he took off my pants.
Then he shifted up to lay half beside me, half over me, and started at my throat.
His kisses were light. Deliberate. A flick of his tongue here.
A slow drag of his mouth there, down to my collarbone.
A suck at one nipple, then the other—careful, attentive, interpreting every sound I made and adjusting accordingly, like he was memorizing the manual.
I was already an inferno, and he’d barely started.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” I moaned. I so badly wanted him to undress, lay his full weight onto me, and fuck me until I couldn’t remember my name.
“Doing what?”
“Going slow. It’s a whole thing with you.”
“Mm.” He placed a kiss on the soft skin below my hip bone. His breath feathered across the lace of my underwear, and my brain stopped working. “And?”
“And you know exactly what you’re doing.” I managed to keep my voice mostly even. “You smug, methodical—”
“I do,” he said, and continued.
Fuck me. The absolute nerve of him.
He slid my underwear off and then stood.
“No,” I whined. “Where are you going?”
He reached down for my bag sitting at the end of the bed, and I remembered. We’d planned for this. I’d packed for this. And now watching him unzip it with the same calm, deliberate energy he applied to everything, anticipation coiled low in my stomach.
I sat up, reaching for him.
“Wait.” The word was quiet. The slow uptick of his mouth said “patience will be rewarded.”
I didn’t want to be patient. “Marc.”
“Wait,” he repeated, softer this time. That one word, in that frequency—low and certain— hit a chord within me. He settled me back against the pillows with one hand and gently but firmly said, “I’ve got you.”
Three words. So simple.
My whole nervous system just … exhaled.
And I felt safe, cherished.
He pulled out my purple vibrator—my contribution to the evening, packed when I had not thought tonight through. I was trying to play it cool at seeing it in his large, capable hands.
He turned it over, finding the buttons with a calm curiosity. The toy buzzed to life. His eyes flew to mine. Then he touched the other button, and the thrusting function engaged. It began its upward pumping motion, and his expression shifted into something I could only describe as intrigued.
I lost it and giggled. “It’s curved,” I managed between laughter. “To hit my G-spot just right.” I made a vague gesture.
Marc looked at the toy and then looked at me. Heavy-lidded now, the curiosity was replaced by the burning desire in his gaze. He handed it to me. “Scoot up the bed.”
I did.
“Turn it on. Vibration mode only.”
I found the button and shifted my hand lower.
“Not there.” A slight smile. “Start at your nipples. I want to watch you tease them.”
Oh. Oh.
The idea of him watching me, directing me, while he was fully dressed—I pressed the toy to my nipple before I’d finished the thought and gasped at the sensation. Sharp and sweet. Too much and exactly enough.
“The other one,” he instructed.
I shifted my grip, my breathing already unsteady. He stood at the edge of the bed and watched me with focused stillness.
Having his full attention on me was just as thrilling as the toy.
“Slower,” he said. “Let me see you.”
I made myself slow down. Circles instead of direct pressure. Alternating. I arched into it despite myself.
“Do you like me watching you?” he asked, his voice rough.
I stared directly at him. There was no hesitation in my answer. “Yes.”
“Good.” He hadn’t moved. His tented pants suggested this was as much for him as it was for me. “Move lower. Drag it down your sternum, over your stomach, and then stop just above your clit.”
I did it slowly, holding his gaze for as long as I could before my eyes wanted to close. I kept them open. I wanted to see his face.
“I wish your hands were on me,” I said.
“I know.” His voice had dropped. “They will be. Now—your clit.”
I pushed the silicone tip against myself, and my breath left me entirely.
“Look at me.”
I dragged my eyes back to him. My hips had already started moving on their own, the low steady vibration building in waves.
“Turn it up.”
I pressed the button. The world narrowed down to the dark weight of his gaze.
“How does that feel?”
“So—” I forgot the rest of the sentence. “Good. Really—Marc—”
“One more.”
“I’m going to—I don’t want to stop, but—Oh, God.” My legs trembled.
“I know.” He stared at me, and I quickly snapped my mouth shut. “One more.”
I tapped the button that controlled the speed again and cried out. My heels dug into the mattress. My free hand fisted in the sheets.
“You’re such a good fucking girl for me … trembling like that. Now show me how good it feels to obey,” he said.
“So fucking amazing,” I groaned. “I’m so close.” My vision had taken on a slightly hazy glow.
“Go higher. Don’t come yet,” he snapped and brought my focus back to him.
I changed the speed level without removing the tip from my sensitive clit. “Fuuuuck,” I whined, my body shaking harder.
“One more,” he coaxed, softer this time.
Sweat beaded my brow. I turned it up to the last and highest setting. Five.
I didn’t think I could hold off much longer.
My hips bucked up. My pussy clenched.
“Do you want to come?” he asked.
I mumbled out, “yes,” through clenched teeth, my body tightening, ready for release.
“Such a good girl. Now let me hear you moan,” he quietly demanded.
I was shaking, and he was standing at the foot of the bed watching me like I was the best thing he had ever seen, and that—that—was what tipped me over the edge.
I came apart loudly and unguarded, forgetting where I was, which was not something I typically did, and discovered that it didn’t bother me in the slightest.
“Marc,” I pleaded, my voice wrecked. “I need—”
“I know what you need.” He moved to the edge of the bed and sat beside me. One hand brushed hair from my face. “I want to see you dripping first.”
I whined.
“You’re so wet and perfect. You can do this. Slide it inside you. Keep the vibration on.”
I stared at him.
“You’re not done yet,” he said, as heat flashed in his eyes.
My body, which had just finished what had completely scrambled my brain, was apparently on board with this assessment.
I did as he asked, my breath catching at the stretch, at the still-rippling sensitivity, at the way he watched my face the entire time like he was tracking every response and filing it away.
“Turn on the thrusting. Level three.”
My fingers fumbled as I found the button. The toy shifted inside me with its first upward motion, and I jolted so hard I nearly dropped it.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he leaned close, his mouth at my ear. “I’ve been thinking about you sprawled out on my bed all day. I want my hands and my mouth on every part of you. To slide my cock inside of you and feel every inch of your cunt and how wet you’ll be.”
My eyes rolled back. I was going to die. This was how it would happen.
“With your other hand,” he said, pulling back just far enough to watch my face, “tap your clit.”
“I’m already too sensitive—”
His dark honeyed voice washed over me. “Do it anyway.”
I was shaking before my fingers made contact.
The combination—the toy pumping slow and deep, hitting exactly the right angle, and my own fingers working my clit with hard taps—was dangerous in its precision.
Like he’d designed this. Like he’d thought long and hard about exactly what would wreck me and had simply implemented the plan.
“Good girl, Hart. That was just what I wanted.”
“Fuck it. It’s official. I’m a slut for praise,” I groaned as my body tensed. “Marc,” I whispered frantically.
I couldn’t hold off much longer.
“Stay with me.”
“I’m trying—I’m—oh God—” I moaned low in my throat.
“Your sweet pussy is going to destroy me.” He sucked in a ragged breath. “My cock aches to be inside you.”
I moaned low in my throat. “Marc, I’m so … God … so close.”
“Let go baby,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.”
There it was again.
I shattered. Not politely. Not quietly. My whole body locked up and then broke, and I screamed his name at a volume I might think about later with some embarrassment and absolutely no regret.
“Okay,” I finally said to the ceiling. “You win. Your way was better.”
“I wasn’t aware it was a competition.”