Chapter 20 #2
Each movement drives him deeper. The hard slap of my body meeting his fills the room.
I bury my face in his neck and moan into his skin as pleasure jolts through me with every bounce.
The drag of him against my sensitive walls is too much.
My nails dig into his shoulders while my breath comes in short gasps.
By the time he shoulders the bathroom door open, I’m trembling. He steps under the running water without setting me down, hot spray cascading over both of us. Steam climbs the glass while he presses my back into the cool tile.
Then he moves with long, dragging strokes that pull almost all the way out before he slides back to the hilt, and he holds me up through every one.
Skin slaps on slick skin under the rush of the water.
Each thrust hits deep enough to spark white behind my eyes.
My nails rake down his shoulders and leave red trails.
He keeps his eyes on my face, drinking in every gasp. The sounds between us turn filthier, the slick glide of his cock plunging into my soaked pussy, my moans climbing higher with each thrust.
“There she is.” He snaps his hips once, hard, then returns to that slow grind that drives me out of my mind.
It winds tighter until I shatter around him with a keening cry, my pussy clenching, milking his length. He groans against my throat and buries himself as deep as he can go while my orgasm pulses around him.
Even then he doesn’t stop, riding me through every wave until I’m shaking and oversensitive in his arms. Then he lowers my feet to the floor, turns me around, and bends me forward. I grip the shower railing. He kicks my legs wider and drives back into me from behind.
The angle is devastating. He hits deeper, his hips slapping against my ass. One hand fists my soaked hair. The other grips my hip and pulls me back onto his cock with every thrust.
“Fuck, listen to the sounds you make.” His voice is thick. “You’re so fucking wanton for me. You can’t get enough of my cock.”
He keeps it deep, working against my ass on every stroke, letting me feel every inch of him stretching me.
The filthy sounds of him fucking me echo off the tiles.
The pleasure builds again, slower and deeper this time.
My breasts sway with each thrust, my nipples tight from the hot water. I push back to meet him.
Marcus leans over me, chest to my back, his teeth grazing my shoulder while he holds that torturous rhythm. “That’s it, baby. Take every inch.”
I come again on a long, broken moan, my whole body seizing. He follows, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, pulsing hot inside me while the water rains down over us.
We stay locked together, breathing hard, his arms wrapped around me until the aftershocks fade. His lips brush my shoulder.
“So much for washing my back.” His laughter vibrates through my skin, and I close my eyes.
“If I had the strength to move, I’d kick you in the balls.”
He kisses me sweetly on the cheek, an act that undoes me. “Lucky me then, I guess.”
At lunch I can’t look at him. My eyes stay on my plate and on the girls, and when I glance up, he’s already watching me, a sly smile on his face.
Now I’m sitting here in his shirt, and I can’t hold a fork straight.
“Jessa.” Bella tips her head, frowning. “Why do you smell like Uncle Marcus?”
I go completely still. “What?”
Marcus chokes on his water. “She doesn’t.”
“She does.” Mia nods at her plate, unbothered, sawing at her chicken. “She smells like you a lot.”
“Well, that’s charming.” Marcus recovers and gestures at me with his fork. “Your mother used my shampoo.”
Mia’s head comes up so fast she nearly takes out her juice. “Mom doesn’t use anybody’s shampoo. Mom won’t even use hotel shampoo.” Her eyes go round. “Mom. You used another shampoo?”
“Sit down and eat your food.” My face is on fire. “Marcus, stop it.”
“She liked it, though.” He shakes his head and sighs. “She liked that shampoo so much.”
“Marcus. I mean it.”
He grins at his plate. Bella looks between the two of us and rolls her eyes. “You’re both so weird.”
His phone goes off against the table. He reads the screen twice, brows drawing together, then he’s up and out through the patio doors with it at his ear. The door doesn’t catch behind him. His voice comes through the gap, low, half the words lost to the wind.
“—no, I want to see it myself. What about Daniel? Did they get anything off the—”
Bella’s head lifts off her plate.
I’m out of my chair. “Mia. Take Bella upstairs.”
“No.” Bella’s chin comes up. “I want to stay.”
“Go upstairs, sweetheart.”
She doesn’t move, so my daughter slides off her chair and takes her hand, towing her out of the room while she murmurs something about her horse book. Bella lets herself be towed.
I step onto the porch and pull the doors shut behind me. Marcus turns. He looks past me at the empty chairs, then at the door I just closed, and his jaw sets.
“All right, I’ll be there in a while.” He listens. “Are you sure about this? Okay. Make sure he doesn’t talk to anybody. I’m coming.”
He lowers the phone.
“What’s happened?” I ask.
“Why did you send the girls away?”
“Because you said Bella’s father’s name out loud, and she was hanging halfway out of her chair to hear you.”
He rubs a hand down his face and swears into it.
“Marcus.” I lean back against the glass. “What’s going on?”
He takes a while to answer me. “It seems Daniel’s and Hannah’s murders were never properly investigated. I’ve had the case reopened.”
I study him, shocked. “I thought it was a home invasion.”
His eyes stay on the tree line. “It wasn’t that simple.”
I can hear the caution in his voice.
“You keep telling me you want us to be together.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Honesty is the foundation of every relationship there is. And seeing how you keep going on about wanting us to be together, you sure have a lot of secrets.”
At the word relationship, he steps toward me. I hold up a hand and step back.
“There are things that are none of my business. I know that.” My voice stays level, which surprises me. “But I feel like you’re lying to me every time you open your mouth. Or holding something back, which is the same thing.”
He says nothing for a long stretch, his hands on his hips, his eyes moving over my face.
“There are things I’m not telling you,” he admits at last. “Things I can’t tell you yet without putting you in more danger than you’re in already.
” He shakes his head at whatever I’m opening my mouth to say.
“They aren’t things I’ll never tell you.
I need time to sort it out, and then I’ll tell you everything. ”
I hold his eyes for five seconds. “Fine. But you’re on a very short leash.”
He kisses me, barely a press of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he tips his head, studying me. “What are you actually afraid of? Is it Mia’s safety?”
“Yes,” I start to say. The truth comes out instead. “No. With you around, I’m not afraid for Mia at all.”
His eyes light up. I’ve never seen that happen to him, and my heart skitters against my ribs.
“Well.” The corners of his eyes crinkle. “At least you think highly of me somewhere.”
“You think I don’t think highly of you?”
“If you want the truth, there are days I’m fairly sure you still take me for scum.” His mouth is smiling. His eyes aren’t.
“Marcus, that isn’t—”
“I have to go.” He stops in front of me and takes my face in both hands. “Lock every door behind me. Nobody comes inside, and that includes delivery drivers.” His thumbs press at my cheekbones. “Cole’s coming by. He’s the only one you open the door for.”
“Why are you being so paranoid?”
“Jessa.” His grip firms. “Just do what I’m telling you.”
I stand on the porch watching the drive long after the dust has settled, and my stomach won’t quiet down. When did I start needing him? I don’t have an answer, and I don’t like the question, so I go inside and throw the bolt.
I do the front door, then the porch doors, then go around the front room checking window latches because he told me to and because my hands want the work. After that, I put the chicken back in the pan to warm, and I get halfway through calling the girls down.
Behind me, a key turns in a lock.
I turn with the pan in my hand. I expected Cole, but the person who walks in has me raising my brows.
Sloane slides the glass door open and steps into the kitchen.
She drops a set of keys into her bag, and her heels click across the tile.
Her hair is perfect. She’s dressed in a short white dress that shows off her hefty cleavage.
“Marcus isn’t here,” I inform her scathingly. “If you’re coming here to throw yourself at him, you should at least make sure he’s home.”
Her eyes tighten. “I came to see you.”
“How do you have a key to this house?”
“I’ve had it for years.” She lets the silence stretch exactly as long as she wants. “You’d have to ask him why.”
The safe room downstairs crosses my mind, but I dismiss it because Sloane is hardly a threat.
“Well, what do you want?” I study her. “You and I don’t know each other.”
She starts along the length of the island, trailing two fingers over the marble as she comes.
“If you think you’re special because he’s letting you sleep here, you should climb down off your high horse.
” Her fingers stop. “You’re a charity case, sweetheart.
He sees a child with no father, a woman with no husband, and he can’t help himself. ”
I tuck my tongue into my cheek and set the pan back on the burner.
“Really. So he makes a habit of it, bringing home single mothers?” I look her over from her heels to her hair.
“Well, you’ve missed your mark badly. Maybe go and get yourself knocked up, then try again.
” I tilt my head. “Although I don’t think you’d be his type even then. ”
She hisses through her teeth. “Watch your tongue, or I’ll pull it out of your mouth.”
I lift the pan off the stove. It’s still hot enough to spit at me. “Try it, bitch.”