Chapter Seven
Millie
“I want you.”
The words embedded themselves into her brain. Like carving words into the trunk of a tree, her brain had been marked. She had never had a man, never mind a devilishly handsome one, express that to her before.
Something clicked inside of her. A truth. A realization. An acceptance. Permission of some sort for herself to receive what she’d never been in a position to receive before.
And wasn’t this a vacation of sorts? A break from her normal life? From all the stress of supporting her family through her secret writing? Shouldn’t she take this moment and capitalize on it, even if it was something she had never considered before?
And what was fake, anyway? This didn’t feel all that fake. It felt real. At least parts of it. So, maybe she’d get something more out of this than she’d bargained for. Couldn’t that be considered a win?
She’d read far too many books, lived far too many stories, to not want to make this moment part of her own story.
“You want me, Marlowe?” Naked, she stood baring herself to him. Her nipples perked up at the aplomb in her own voice.
“Yes,” he rasped back, taking a step closer.
“What’s stopping you from seducing me, then?” She held her hands out.
“I don’t want to seduce you. I want you to want me back.” Vulnerability laced his words as much as it did his eyes.
And she did want him, though she didn’t know how to say that in words. Not because the words were hard to say, but because once those words were out there, that meant her heart was also out there. On some kind of string that he could tie, snap, or drop and forget somewhere altogether.
So instead of speaking, she drew from all her reserves of will and dignity and slipped her hand onto his shoulder, saying, “I think it’s time you showed me just what kind of rake you really are.
” A newfound confidence surged up within her.
He was studying her body. Her body. And everything pointed to a never-before-thought-of truth, that of a man—him—being affected by her body.
His warm fingers trembled as they reached out to touch her exposed waist. The second he made contact, he dug his fingers into her flesh and pulled her closer. With a sharp inhale and intensely steady gaze, his eyes met hers.
Air flooded her chest, pushing out her breasts, inching them closer to his chest. Desperate for contact, she nudged closer until she’d reached her goal.
The slightest graze had her intaking a shaky breath. She wanted so much more from him. This wondrously devilish man whom she could never hope in a lifetime to have was here for her. Was hers. For the moment.
He trailed a finger down her neck, snugly between her breasts. Her breath shuddered out of her.
“Marlowe…” She panted his name like it were a treasure she had never hoped to find.
“Say you want me.”
“Yes. I want this.”
“No.” His finger stilled. “Say you want me.”
She couldn’t keep it in. She knew that it was him that she wanted. Not just any man. She wanted the man whom she could share herself with. The man who had vulnerabilities just like her. The man who hid parts of himself but wanted to show those secret places to her.
But still, she was scared. Terrified that her heart was on the line. “How many times have you used that line here?”
“None.”
She blinked hard to focus on his expression. “That can’t be true.”
“I’ve never even brought a woman here.”
“Never?”
“Not once. You’re the first woman I’ve ever brought here.”
“Marlowe—”
“And this is the first time I’ve ever used this line, Millie.” He cupped both of her breasts and bent his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. “Tell me you want me. For me.”
“God,” she exhaled roughly with a loud puff of air, “yes. I want you.”
And that was it. She watched in awe as he tore off the rest of his clothes.
And it was quite possible she let out a loud squeak when he picked her up and tossed her on the bed.
And it was altogether undeniable that she mewled a voluminous groan when he started to trail kisses down her jaw toward her mouth.
When he devoured her lips with his own, she was lost in him. Lost in a sea of emotion. A flood of sensation. Those warm, wet lips were leaving their mark. Teaching her a new purpose for her mouth. She was under siege. In the best way possible.
Chanting his name as he yanked his lips from hers, she continued in her state of delirium as he kissed down her ribs and across her stomach.
Finally, he parted her folds and tasted her down there. She would never forget how he made her feel. Like she were the only one who mattered. The only woman in the world.
“Millie,” he groaned, “fuck, you taste so good, my darling.”
And she arched up into him, begging him for more. His tongue lapped at her until she broke apart on a cry of pure pleasure.
“Marlowe.” Her eyes burned and she grabbed his face, bringing him to her mouth. She needed more of him. All of him. Her body thrummed from the release but still wanted more. “Please, Marlowe. I want you.”
“Watch me,” he whispered as he fisted his cock and swiped through her wetness. “Don’t close your eyes.”
The contact was pure heavenly bliss. God, she wanted her entire body to go limp. Yet an energy buzzed through her.
His cock was gorgeous and she wanted it in places she hadn’t known existed. Places she didn’t even recognize in her own body begged so loudly.
He pushed a pillow underneath her hips and then pumped his cock twice before placing the head at her entrance. After a moment, she felt him budding inside of her. Filling her in a way she’d never felt before. Never known she’d been missing before.
With him inside of her, she felt as though her body were tied to his in a metaphysical way. Like strands of a braid weaving together their bodies and hearts. The revelation brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back. This was not a moment to be overly emotional.
“Millie, are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said, catching her breath. “It’s…perfect.”
The smile he gave her shone millions of pieces of his soul at her. Like every other smile up until now had only been one small piece of him at a time, selectively displayed. This grin on his face was a reflection of his entire being. And it was joyful.
She wanted to savor the moment. Treasure it. Write it down somehow to never forget.
But then he started moving.
Thrusting into her.
And all reasonable thought was depleted. All that remained was sensation. A state of euphoria. As his hands roamed her body, massaging her, squeezing her, holding her. She felt owned.
Then, like a geyser, she erupted all around him, clamping on to him in every way—inside and out.
“Holy God,” he mumbled, astounded. And she could see the awe in his face as he pumped into her one more time and unleashed.
And there was one moment when they stared into each other’s eyes where nothing had ever felt more real.