Page 75 of Brutal Union
"Don't hold back," I urge, pressing against him.
His response is immediate—relentless and consuming until tears of ecstasy blur my vision. When release claims me, my body contracts around him so powerfully he has to support my weight as strength leaves my limbs.
He withdraws only to turn me, lifting me effortlessly. My legs encircle him as he joins us once more, my back against the cool tile, his movements driven by raw necessity.
"Eyes on mine," he demands. "I need to watch you when I mark you inside."
I hold his gaze while he moves within me, each thrust sending waves through my body. His lips claim my throat, promising bruises that will tell our story tomorrow.
"Marco," I whisper, feeling tension building anew. "I can't—"
"Let go," his words command. "Surrender to me. Only to me."
His words unlock something primal, and I shatter around him. He follows, my name a prayer on his lips as he finds his release deep within me.
Hours later, collapsed in sheets that reek of sex and sweat and us, I trace patterns on his chest. My pussy is sore, well-used, and I love it. The clock on the nightstand shows 5 AM. We've been at this for hours.
"Those divorce papers," I say against his skin, something nagging at me. "I believed they were real. Needed them to be real to save Alice."
"They might have been," Marco admits. "Liam was desperate enough. But even if they were legitimate, I never accepted them. Not in my heart. Not where it matters."
"I needed them to be real," I repeat, my voice breaking slightly. "It was the only way to save her. And now… we don't even know if she's safe."
"We'll find her," he promises, his arms tightening around me. "First thing when the sun's up. I have every contact looking."
I nod against his chest, then voice what's been building in me all night: "I want something permanent. Something that can't be questioned or undone."
"What do you mean?"
"No papers. No ceremonies that can be interrupted. No rings that can be removed." I meet his eyes. "I want us marked. Branded. Something that can't be undone by rain or bullets or doubt."
"Tattoos," he says, understanding immediately, his cock already hardening again at the thought.
"On our ring fingers. Where everyone can see. Where we can't hide it."
He flips me onto my back, settling between my thighs. "You want to be marked as mine forever? No escape clause?"
"I want to be marked as yours while you're marked as mine." I reach down to stroke his cock, already fully hard again.
"We'd have to wait," he says, even as he pushes into me again, slower this time. "Everything's closed now. And we need secure transport after what happened tonight."
"Tomorrow then," I gasp as he fills me. "After we deal with the aftermath."
We make love this time. There's no other word for the gentle way he moves in me, the soft kisses, the whispered promises. When we come, it's together, my name on his lips, his on mine.
As the sun rises higher, painting the bedroom gold, Marco's phone buzzes insistently on the nightstand. He checks it, his expression darkening.
"Alice," he says, and my heart stops. "She's safe. My men found her at Union Station. She's scared but unharmed. They're bringing her to a safe house."
Relief floods through me so intensely I start crying. Marco holds me as I sob, the stress of not knowing finally releasing.
"And your father," he continues carefully. "He's still alive. Still at his mistress's old apartment where I left him. Under guard."
"We need to deal with him," I say, wiping my tears. "Whatever that means."
"Tomorrow," Marco says. "Today," he corrects himself, seeing the full sunrise through the windows. "But first, we sleep. Then the tattoos. Then your father."
I trace patterns on his chest, thinking about the permanence we're choosing. "No divorce this time. You'd have to cut off your finger."
