Page 52 of Pas de Don't
“Marcus?” she murmured.
“Heather?” he rasped back.
“Would you please kiss me? Now?”
“Fuck yes,” he breathed.
Marcus closed the space between them and pulled her hips against his. The thin cord of his restraint seemed to quiver and snap, and when their lips met, it was less a kiss than it was a clash, their tongues colliding and her teeth grazing roughly against his bottom lip. She tightened her arms around his neck, pressing herself against his chest, wanting to devour and be devoured.
He skimmed his hands up her body, his fingertips flitting over her breasts, teasing maddeningly before returning to her hips. Heather sighed in frustration and seized one of his hands, returning it toher breast. Asking for what she wanted. Mercifully, he answered by stroking her nipple through her sweater, sparking white hot pleasure that burst and scattered through her body. His mouth moved to her neck as he rubbed his thumb firmly and steadily over her, and Heather rolled her hips against him, desperate for contact and friction.
Marcus moaned into her neck as she ground against his hard length, and for the first time, Heather understood the kind of frenzied lust that made people do uncomfortable, unhygienic things like screw on a kitchen counter.
She broke the kiss before it could come to that and pulled his hand from her body, panting. She hopped off the counter but didn’t release him until they were in her bedroom. She peeled off her sweater and leggings, hurling them onto the floor, then sat on the bed, sliding back towards the pillows, pulse hammering as she watched him unbuckle his own jeans.
Marcus plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, extracting a condom with fumbling fingers before shoving his pants down his legs. Then he stopped and let his eyes rake up her bare legs, over her hips and breasts, before he met her gaze. She bit her lip, and he took a deep breath.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked. His voice trembled, like it took enormous self-control to form each word.
Heather had never wanted anyone or anything more, had never ached so undeniably to be touched and kissed and filled and held.
“I’m sure,” she said, and she almost laughed at how insufficient the words were. “I want you, right now.”
Heather reached back and unhooked her bra, then slid her panties off her hips. In the few seconds it took her to toss them onto the floor, Marcus had pulled off his boxer briefs and crawled onto the bed, where he knelt between her legs and handed her the condom. His uncut cock hung hard from his torso, thick and heavy.
Her fingers shook around the condom wrapper, but she ripped the foil open on her third attempt. Looking into Marcus’s face,shesaw him watching her hungrily, and she hurried to roll the rubber down, relishing the firm heat of him under her fingertips and the way he groaned quietly in his throat as she ran her hand over the base of his shaft.
The moment she was done, Marcus lifted one hand to her face and pulled her toward his mouth. She kissed him back hard, impatiently, letting her hands roam his lower back and his ass, that perfect, firm ass she’d been thinking about since the moment they met. Then she broke away and let her shoulders fall back on the bed, dragging him down with her. Finally,finallythis was happening, she thought, wrapping her hand around his cock and guiding him into her.
She gasped at his girth as he entered her slowly, carefully. Her muscles stretched deliciously to accommodate him as he held still for a moment. Then she thrust her hips upward to take the last inch of him.
They groaned in unison. In relief. In mutual recognition that this was better than either of them had dared imagine. It was slick, hot heaven, the way he filled her, the way she melted around him. Marcus braced his hands on either side of her shoulders and set a slow, steady rhythm, thrusting hard and deep, then deeper still when she wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Jesus fuck, Heather, you feel so good,” he gritted out, and she clenched around him, eliciting another groan that rumbled through his body and echoed into her own.
He sped up and swore again, his breath more ragged now. She ran her hand up his back and into his hair, then pulled him to her chest until his mouth found her nipple. His tongue flicked against her again, and she whimpered to the ceiling, holding tight to his hair as he sucked and licked at the sensitive skin, lavishing attention on one breast, then the other, sending hot waves of pleasure through her muscles as he thrust hard and steady into her.
Marcus lifted his head and kissed her. For a moment she missed his mouth on her nipple, but a second later, he’d slid one handbetween them and was teasing her slick folds with gentle but determined fingers. Heather gasped against his mouth at the sensation, and he answered with a hungry moan, stroking her firmly with the pad of his thumb, drawing tight, firm circles around her clit that made her throb around his rigid cock. He stayed there, circling and thrusting, his breath growing harsher and more desperate, and Heather’s moans rose in pitch as she felt her orgasm build.
Marcus broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers, stroking her relentlessly.
“That’s it, baby, come for me. Come with me.” The urgency in his voice unraveled her, pulling her under.
“Oh God, Marcus, I’m—” She lost the ability to form words, coming with a silent scream as her climax shook her body and he drove into her.
“Fuck, Heather, that’s it,” he growled, and with his next thrust, he came, his forehead pressed to hers and his arm trembling over her head. His breaths were deep, shuddering exhales, and she held tight to him, one hand in his hair and the other on his lower back, feeling his muscles release as his orgasm subsided.
She relaxed her grip on his hair but left her hand buried in his curls, enjoying the gentle sensation of his chest expanding and contracting against her body as his breath returned to normal. Marcus lifted his head for a minute, only to lower it again and groan against her skin.
“I promise I’m not going to thank you,” she whispered to the ceiling, “but I am going to thank Shaz.”
He raised his head sharply. “What? Wait, why?”
“Because,” she replied, a sly smile creeping over her face, “she clearly got you your full range of motion back.”
Marcus guffawed, and she lifted her head to grin at him. He smiled back at her, sure he looked as dazed and glassy-eyed as he felt.
In the days since their first kiss, he’d wondered—a few thousand times, conservatively—what it would be like to sleep with her. Howit would feel to bury himself inside her. It had crossed his mind—a few hundred times, actually—that if it ever happened, he might be setting himself up for disappointment. That the reality might fall short of the now very well-worn fantasy.
