20. Avery #2
The boys make it a little more than halfway through the film. Marcus and I each pick one up, carry them to what was his childhood bedroom, and tuck them in.
Walking down the hall to the master suite, I can’t stop replaying in my mind the way his lips claimed mine in the dark of the theater, his hands sliding over me with the kind of hunger that’s been simmering for years.
The second the door clicks shut, we’re on each other.
Zero hesitation.
Marcus moans against my lips as he backs me against the wall, his hands everywhere—gripping my hips, tangling in my hair, yanking me closer like he wants to consume me whole.
His kiss is hard, hungry, desperate, his tongue sweeping deep, stealing every breath before I can even take one.
God, we’ve waited so long for this.
I claw at his shirt, yanking at the buttons, too frantic to be delicate. They pop, scattering onto the floor, but neither of us cares. I want him bare. I need to feel his skin against mine, the heat of him branding me the way I’ve craved for seven years.
He tugs my dress down in one rough motion, dragging the fabric over my arms, tossing it away once it’s free. My bra is gone in a snap, my breasts bared to the cool air just as his hands close over them, claiming, his thumbs flicking over my nipples in a way that has me gasping into his mouth.
“Avery,” he groans, voice ragged, lips leaving a hot, open-mouthed trail down my throat. His teeth scrape just enough to send a shiver straight down to my core.
My fingers fumble at his belt, yanking it free, pushing his pants down until his hard length presses hot and insistent against my stomach.
A broken moan escapes me. He’s so damn hard for me.
“You feel that?” Marcus growls against my ear, gripping the backs of my thighs, lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, my back pressing into the wall as he grinds his thick cock right against my aching center.
“Yes,” I gasp. “I need?—”
His hand is between us in an instant, pushing my soaked panties aside. The first rough stroke of his fingers has me crying out, my body jolting against him.
“Jesus, Avery.” His voice is dark with something primal. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“For you.” The words rip from my throat as I rock against his hand, shameless, needy. “Always for you.”
Something snaps in him at that.
Marcus growls, deep and possessive, then he’s moving—pulling away just long enough to strip my panties off and toss them somewhere behind him. Then he’s carrying me to the bed, dropping me onto the sheets with the perfect mix of caveman and gentleman.
I barely have a second to catch my breath before he follows, settling between my spread thighs, his body a wall of heat and power above me.
And then he stops.
His gaze rakes over me, slow and dark, the urgency finally giving way to something deeper. He trails his fingers down my body—my breasts, my stomach, the curves that didn’t exist the last time we did this.
I see the moment it hits him.
I’m not the same woman I was seven years ago.
“You’ve changed,” he murmurs, voice hushed with reverence.
He drags his hands up my thighs, settling on my hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh there, like he’s memorizing all over again.
“You’re stronger.” His hands skim up, tracing the dip of my waist, then up to my breasts, cupping them with a rough groan. “More powerful.”
His eyes meet mine, hungry and full of something raw.
“You’re fucking perfect.”
The words knock the breath from my lungs, my chest heaving. He doesn’t just want me—he adores me. Worships me. The way he looks at me, touches me, like I’m something to be cherished and devoured in the same breath… it wrecks me.
He presses a kiss just below my navel, then lower, his breath hot against my skin.
Then his eyes flick up, locking with mine.
He groans against me, the sound vibrating through my skin. “Say my name.”
“Marcus.”
His hands tighten on my hips, his teeth scraping lightly before he soothes the sting with his tongue. I’m already coming undone, drowning in the sensation of his mouth, his touch, his body pressed between my thighs.
“I’m going to take my time, I need to taste you.”
My head falls back as he settles between my thighs, his breath hot against my skin. His first kiss is soft, a teasing brush of lips against my center, but then his tongue flicks over my clit and I shatter.
“Oh my God?—”
“Mm,” he hums against me, his voice dark with satisfaction. “I could stay here all night.”
His hands grip my thighs, keeping me still as he licks and sucks with devastating precision. The tension coils tighter, spiraling, building. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, but that only makes him groan and press harder against me.
“Marcus, I—” My body locks up, pleasure crashing over me so suddenly it leaves me gasping, writhing against his mouth.
He doesn’t stop. Not until I’m shaking, my body wrung out, my pulse thundering.
When he finally rises above me, his lips glisten with evidence of my release, his eyes dark with something feral.
He watches me carefully as he slides his briefs down, his thick, hard length springing free. My stomach tightens at the sight of him—God, he’s big—and a flicker of memory rushes through me. The last time, the only time. How he was slow, hesitant, afraid of hurting me.
But this time? This time, there’s no hesitation in his touch.
He settles between my thighs, the heat of him pressing against my entrance, teasing, tormenting.
He leans in, eyes locked with mine, forehead pressing against mine. “Look at me.”
I do.
And that’s when he pushes inside.
I cry out at the stretch, the exquisite burn of being filled, of taking him inch by inch until he’s buried so deep inside me I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.
Marcus lets out a shaky breath, his jaw tight. “Fuck, Avery, you feel so good.”
He starts to move, slow and deep, rolling his hips in a way that makes my breath catch. It’s so different from before. This isn’t two people giving in to reckless passion. This is something else.
This is us.
“I love you,” he murmurs suddenly, his thrusts faltering just slightly.
Everything inside me stops.
My heart. My breath. My world.
He loves me.
Tears burn behind my eyes, my hands cupping his face, my body arching into his. “Marcus…”
He stills inside me, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath unsteady. “Say it,” he whispers. “Please.”
I swallow hard, overwhelmed. And then, in the quiet, with our bodies entwined and our souls laid bare, I finally let the words slip free.
“I love you.”
A sharp breath leaves him, his entire body shuddering. And then—he moves.
Slow, deep strokes that pull me under, drag me deeper, until the pleasure swells again, hotter, brighter. My nails rake down his back, my legs tightening around his waist, and Marcus snaps.
His pace turns desperate, his breath ragged against my ear. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He groans, his thrusts stuttering. “Again.”
“I love you, Marcus.”
“I love you, Avery. I always have.” He kisses me before pushing us both over the edge.
We fall together, my body tightening, his shuddering. My name tumbles from his lips, broken and raw, and I feel it—this moment, this love, this home we’ve found in each other.
When the waves finally subside, he doesn’t move. He stays inside me, pressed against me, his weight comforting, grounding. His lips press lazy kisses to my shoulder, my jaw, my temple.
And for the first time in seven years, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I just feel… whole.
Marcus lifts his head, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, with something softer than I’ve ever seen before. His fingers trace my cheek, his thumb brushing over my kiss-swollen lips.
“Marry me,” he whispers again.
This time, there’s no hesitation.
I smile, threading my fingers through his dark hair. “I already said yes.”
His answering smirk is pure satisfaction as he kisses me again.
And this time, it’s forever.