Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Hallie
M y heart is pounding in my chest, the sound attempting, if not completely succeeding, to block out the thoughts swirling within my mind. Thoughts that have me questioning my sanity and wondering if my sense of self-preservation is somehow malfunctioning.
Marcus’s eyes are ravenous as they take me in, and I’m forever grateful that my mouth enjoys talking enough that it’s able to banter without a whole lot of intellectual input.
Because there’s nothing intellectual happening here right now.
“Do I need to check the expiration date on that thing?” I ask blithely, gesturing to the foil pack in his hand.
In reality, I’m just buying time for my brain to catch up with what I’m about to do in case I need to change my mind and back out.
The first time I’d had sex was with this man. Notably, the first time I’d had my heart broken was by the same fool a day later.
It’s not an experience I’m interested in revisiting.
“Yes, preferably with your teeth and on your knees,” he replies just as nonchalantly.
My devious heart squeezes in recognition at one sharp-tongued fiend meeting another.
His words do nothing other than put me at ease because this is just us.
It’s just sex—physical and biting and coming with a built-in end date. There can be no betrayal, no broken heart.
It’s perfect.
“You’re the worst,” I reply.
The grin on my face is in complete opposition to the words leaving my mouth. I might love sharp, biting words, but it’s not often I want them to cause harm. Except with Marcus, and even then, more and more, that doesn’t seem to be the case.
I can’t tell you who moves first, but as our lips touch again, I’m certain that it really doesn’t matter. His skin is hot where it touches mine, his lips supple and warm. My breasts press against him as we move in sync, one of his hands knotted in my hair, the other stroking along the side of my jaw.
We break away momentarily as if to check that, yes, this is still happening.
Marcus tugs me gently as if to head toward the bedroom, but that’s not what I want. It’s perfect here, the mess of the past scattered around us on the floor, and beds are a rule-breaker.
I resist his pull, instead stepping back toward the couch, and he doesn’t falter in following me down. His jeans are still on, belt unbuckled, top button popped open. I’d wanted the level of undress to be equal, but before I can say a word, he silences me with a kiss, our tongues twining.
My ass barely touches the cushions before Marcus has me on my back, the firm length of him moving over me, encompassing me completely. One hand planted for balance, he moves the other to cup my jaw, even as he presses more firmly between my legs. Eyes falling shut, I take the moment to explore, drawing my hands over the muscular planes of his back and around his chest before retracing my steps. Secretly, I commit the feel of him to memory as my fingers tread a path I won’t admit to having dreamed about.
And I have no complaints.
“Hallie,” he breathes, lips lifting from mine even as his thumb continues to stroke along my jaw. “Open your eyes.”
A slave to sensation, I do as I’m told, my hazy, lust-filled gaze meeting his. His warmth makes my throat dry with a need I’ve yet to fully comprehend. His pants are abrasive against the smooth skin of my outer thighs, and there’s no denying how hard he feels against the delicate lace of my panties.
A thread of fear, a shadow of past hurt, rises in my mind, and I grab hold of it, using the internal momentum to plant my palms against the muscles of his warm chest.
“I want to be on top,” I gasp out.
“I want to fuck you hard enough to leave an imprint of you in these cushions,” he replies as if this is part of our normal verbal warfare.
His teeth make contact with my skin, nipping in the most delicious way.
I laugh and groan simultaneously before running my hands through his hair, pulling gently but firmly until his lips release me.
“Do you want to be inside me?” I ask, his heavy-lidded eyes on mine.
He takes my hand, repositioning himself so I can feel how thick and hard he is. “That’s a stupid question.”
“Then I want to be on top,” I say breathlessly, pushing us both up and away from the cushions until I straddle him, instantly more at ease.
“I have no complaints in the change of position. The view is phenomenal.” He seems to soak in the pure sight of me. “And considering you’ve just opted to ride me, I can imagine it’s only going to get better.”
“I swear muzzles were made for moments like this,” I reply, even as I grind myself against him.
I let the friction build, Marcus’s hips rising to meet mine as he bites down and tugs on one nipple and then the other, again and again, increasing their sensitivity.
“Condom?” I finally pant, and he complies, pulling it from where it had been discarded on the couch.
I rise to my knees as he shoves down his pants, taking his boxer briefs along with them, and my mouth waters.
It actually waters, and I hate myself.
He’s thick, somehow even better than I remembered, and my hand reaches out to stroke him without gaining permission from my brain. Marcus gasps before moving my hand away, rolling the condom quickly and succinctly down to his base. Secretly, irresponsibly, I’d love to try just once without one. To feel what it’s like to have him come inside me. But I can’t bring myself to ask for it.
“I’m looking forward to how hot and tight you’re going to feel as you slide down my cock.” He grasps my hips and positions me directly above him.
I lower myself slightly, and Marcus’s fingers press more firmly into my flesh, not pushing, not pulling, but seemingly tensing in some effort of self-control. Wrapping my hands around his wrists, I look to see his eyes already locked on where we’re so close to being joined, and I ease myself down.
The head of his cock slips in, and I moan, the stretch delectable as I move farther down his length. I pause before I take him fully, instead stroking back upward and lowering again, taking slightly more of him with each languid movement.
“Watching my cock disappear into you might be my favorite form of entertainment,” Marcus says, moaning on an exhale.
“More entertaining than watching your cock slip between my lips, your cum filling my mouth before I swallow you down?” I ask, cheeky and breathless, the thought of the act more arousing than it’s ever been.
His eyes flare, and he brings a hand to tangle in my hair, his bicep flexing as he uses his strength to help direct our movement. “Hallie, I could make a movie reel of all the ways I want to see myself move and come deep inside of you.”
I don’t fight the change in tempo, enjoying the new depth he’s able to find within me.
I grasp his shoulder, running my other hand down to rub circles against my clit, the slickness of my flesh easing the way. The image of me touching myself must scorch because Marcus increases the tempo of his thrusts. I rock my hips over his, matching him stroke for stroke, a sheen of perspiration glistening on our skin.
“Are your fingers slick, Hallie?” he asks, well aware of the answer.
“I’d offer you a taste to prove it, but I’m so close,” I whimper with pleasure, and my voice is unrecognizable.
“Here, I can help with that,” Marcus says, moving a hand between us. Tingles ricochet through my body as his thumb rubs circles over my clit. I gasp and shiver in his arms even as he says, “Give me a taste of those fingers, Hallie.”
I’m too far gone to be embarrassed as I lift them to his mouth, his hot tongue sucking them in long and deep.
He releases my fingers with a pop before he shifts us again, pulling my thighs closer to his torso, hitting deeper inside of me, and I bite my lip so as not to scream in pleasure. Cupping my ass with his large palm, he quickens my pace, even as he increases the pressure with which he strokes my clit. I might be the one on top, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s the one fucking me.
“Are you going to come for me, Hallie?”
His breath is ragged, and I’m thankful his attention’s on me because I’m past words; I can only nod.
There’s an oversaturation of sensations as my skin ignites, fingers tingling as the intensity of my orgasm steals my words, my very breath.
When my lips finally part, there’s no muffling the sound of my pleasure.
It’s with my release that Marcus comes undone, thrusting again and again inside of me. He pulls me closer, driving deeper into me, removing all the empty space between us. His body tenses and jerks with his release, our bodies fused together in the aftermath of perfection.
I can feel the racing of my heart and his breaths against my neck. The urge to run my fingers through his hair, to trail my fingertips over the places we’re still connected, is undeniable. I gift myself with the sensation of his heated skin beneath my fingertips as I gently stroke along his neck, a place where I’d like to press a kiss. Where, in my mind’s eye, I can see my lips touch.
And then it takes the final strength I have to begin disentangling our limbs.
The quiet of the afternoon seeps back in, the sound of the birds outside, the more distant sound of the street at the front of the house. Marcus stands to put his pants back on as I stretch like a cat along the length of the couch, happy to curl up here and nap for the foreseeable future.
“That was…” Marcus runs a hand through his mussed hair.
“Better than you remembered?” I say, attempting to finish what he’d started and somehow managing to voice my own thoughts because, wow, that was a whole lot more than I’d imagined it’d be.
“I was going to say it was worth a repeat. Would you agree?” he asks, curiosity coloring his tone.
“As far as bad decisions go, I’ll be happy to make this one a few more times,” I say with a small smile, finally standing.
Still completely naked, I walk to the small bathroom. I turn at the last moment, knowing Marcus staying here isn’t the best option if I’m going to make a clean break.
“You can show yourself out, I’m guessing?”
“Wham. Bam. Thank you, ma’am.” Marcus brings his hand to his heart in mock indignation before long strides lead him to me. He presses a kiss to my forehead, and my traitorous heart flutters.
Rolling my eyes, I present him with my favored middle finger, then close the bathroom door behind me.
It’s just about to click shut when I hear him call, “My truck’s yours tomorrow. If you want a hand with the boxes, just let me know where and when.”
Before I can think better of it, I open the bathroom door and poke my head out. “Fine. You can shower with me, but you better not hog all the hot water.”
He drops his pants back to the floor and heads straight for me, saying, “I wouldn’t ever dream of it. Now, that middle finger of yours—next time I see it aimed at me? I plan on biting it.”
Marcus Goddamn Scott.
Penetrative, p -in- v sex with him once—just one, single time—and suddenly, he’s everywhere. I’d been under the assumption orgasms made life easier; surely, it was a scientific fact I’d read somewhere. Yet, he’s somehow managed to hook his claws into the deepest, darkest, and even most insignificant recesses of my mind.
My body might’ve been feeling limber and relaxed, if not a little tender in places, but the fact that I couldn’t seem to stop imagining the ways in which he’d kissed me, the firmness of his hands on my skin, and the strength with which he’d held me was problematic.
Especially problematic for a woman who had a task. A task that included the use of said man’s truck.
When I’d messaged Marcus late last night, I’d somehow assumed he’d be lending me his truck for the day, not that it’d come with him as my personal driver and constant companion. I was grateful for the extra set of arms—arms that were, without a doubt, a lot stronger and more physically capable than my own. Without complaint, the owner of those arms had lifted the half-dozen boxes and black bags into his truck’s bed and hadn’t said a word about the one-too-many boxes I hadn’t yet been able to part with and the journals still littering the floor.
That, however, was where my thankfulness ended since every time I glanced his way or caught a whiff of his cologne, I was hit with flashbacks of his body slipping inside of mine.
Agreeing to play nice with Marcus at Julian’s request was one thing. Agreeing to play with him when we were alone was set to be an issue. But mostly, I was concerned by the way the all-consuming sadness of letting go of my past was pierced so singularly by his presence.
“You’re not keeping your gran’s house, then?” Marcus asks, his eyes quickly meeting mine before moving back to the road ahead of us. We hadn’t spoken about her at all since I’d returned, so the fact he’s bringing her up now is no shocker, considering today’s task. “I’ve seen that it’s up for sale.”
“In a perfect world? Maybe. But she told me to use it for a home, for a fresh start, in whatever way I saw fit. That’s hopefully what I’m doing,” I answer honestly, aware of my own boundaries in this conversation and wondering just how far he’ll attempt to push against them.
“She was a good woman,” Marcus says with a nod, as if confirming an indisputable fact.
I’m curious about his memories of her after all the times he’d picked me up from her house and the hours we’d spent sitting in her kitchen or making out in her attic. I hadn’t been interested in my parents seeing me with Marcus; their opinions had never had a positive impact. My gran, however, had been generous in his company but also happy to keep a watchful eye on both of us.
“That’s something we can agree on. She was outrageously stubborn but never too busy to listen or help.”
“She was also incredibly generous. I had a lot of respect for her.”
I can’t help but wonder how this seeming respect didn’t lead to his attendance at her funeral, where he’d been markedly absent and willing to hurt me even in the face of her passing.
But I can’t ask, not yet. Not until I’m ready for this easy peace between us to end.
“All the belongings, the boxes…that couldn’t have been easy.” He continues to look ahead, seemingly finding this way easier, and I’m grateful for it. This vulnerability is new territory for us. Baby steps are called for.
I rub a hand over my face in exhaustion. “Every box seems to hold some treasure or other: pictures from a class trip, a warm knit cardigan of my gran’s, her jewelry box…picking what to keep has been horrible. I kind of wish it’d all been thrown out by someone who didn’t care, but at the same time, I’m grateful for every item I get to touch just one more time.”
The honesty of my answer is freeing, even as it catches me off guard. This is the type of conversation I’ve avoided with Erica and Jules, as well-meaning as they are. The topic seems too big, the questions too much, and considering the wedding that’s just around the corner, I’ve been less than willing to bring their moods down in any way. I know they love me and would be happy to listen, but I’d wanted to do it alone. Had thought I needed to. And yet, as much as I might hate to admit it, having Marcus around, even as a distraction…it’s helped.
“I kind of can’t believe you don’t want to hold on to more of it.”
“Did you miss the boxes still stacked in your pool house?” I raise my brows, knowing he didn’t miss a damn thing; it’s not his style.
“Still seems like a small amount to represent so much of your life.” Marcus pauses, considering. “I really thought you would’ve kept the house.”
I swallow in discomfort, knowing not long ago, I, too, never would have considered selling my gran’s house. “I have to pick. I can hold on to the past, or I can use the financial freedom it provides to pave the way for a more stable future. I’m in the process of purchasing an apartment in Edinburgh. It’s beautiful. I think you’d like it, actually. The money being offered for the house? I’d have been out of my mind to ignore it.”
It’s taken me a long time to officially make Edinburgh my home. I’d held off for who even knows what. It might not have mattered when all I’d wanted was to be anywhere except for where I’d come from, but with time, that’d changed, and if I was going to make Edinburgh home, I couldn’t drag the past back with me. I’d made my decision, and I do have a life to go back to now—a life and a home I love. A life that’s mine.
“You wouldn’t keep it as an investment?” he asks.
“No. I think I have to make a choice, and anyway, it’s too late for me to back out. It’s on the market, and I already know there are offers.” My voice is steady as I repeat the words I’ve already thought to myself multiple times.
Marcus is silent the rest of the drive, and while I’m curious about where his thoughts have taken him, I don’t ask. When we finally pull into the lot of the donation drop point, Marcus parks, and within an instant, his phone is in his hand.
With eyes locked on the screen, he simply says, “If you want to double-check and make sure all the right things are there, I’ve got time.”
I can’t tell if he is being sensitive to my situation and being generous with his time, or if he is truly blasé. Regardless, I don’t waste the opportunity and double-check I’m not giving away anything I’m likely to regret. When I’m done, he hops out and helps me carry the boxes and bags, a steady presence by my side as I leave behind a good chunk of my childhood.
It’s only once the task is complete and we’re back in his truck that he speaks again. “Do you have anything planned for the rest of your day?”
It takes a hot second for his question to find me.
“Uh, no. Not really.” I can’t bear to think about the rest of the items I’m going to have to sort through and part with. It’s been years, and it still feels like too much too soon.
Whatever Marcus sees on my face has him asking, “You want to just drive around for a bit, then?”
I can’t look at him with tears stinging the backs of my eyes. Swallowing it down, I’m able to reply, “Yeah. Will you drive me past her house?”
“Sure.”
Leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the passenger window, I breathe slowly.
Pulling out of the parking spot, Marcus says, “You can pick what we listen to. I promise not to tease…today.”
I smile a little at this and connect my phone to a playlist. “I appreciate the twenty-four-hour grace period.”
It’s hard to not focus on how often we’d been here before, Marcus picking me up in his truck just to drive when things got a little too much in my house. When I’d needed out and away, he’d always been there to make it happen.
My resolve in this thing between us being just for now wobbles. We’d agreed in our rules that things wouldn’t change between us, but this? This feels like change. It just happens to be too good for me to mention it, at the risk of losing it all too soon.
A few songs by Paramore play before Marcus turns the music down. When he takes his eyes off the road to glance at me, I’m bracing for an emo-girl comment, regardless of his promise.
Instead, he surprises me. “Jules, Erica, and I are having dinner together tonight. We do it once a month. You should come.”