He feels so damn good all over me like this. His hands keep moving lower and lower, exploring every inch of my body until he hits my pussy. Cupping my mound, he presses his fingers against my clit.
“You're wet already,” he says into our kiss. Pushing a finger inside, he starts to move in and out, spreading my juice around the entrance. “I fucking love that.”
I almost moan, but he's right there, paying attention to my every move, to every whimper and coo that threatens to escape my lips. His lips seal around mine as he works my body, fucking me with his hand.
Pulling his finger free, Mark pushes my pajama shorts to the side, and climbs on top of me. In nothing but his boxers, his cock breaks free on its own from the opening in the front. I can see him now. My eyes are fully adjusted, and the light from the windows is enough to make him glow like a god.
His skin is shining, tinted red and glistening with sweat as he thrusts his cock inside my heat. My walls tighten around him, begging him to never leave. I want him to stay here with me forever. Just like this. Just the two of us and no one else.
Everything about this moment is different. It's an apology with our kiss, and forgiveness with our bodies. It's Mark telling me everything is okay, and me letting him know he's right.
Mark pistons his hips, fucking me so hard my legs are going numb and my lungs burn. I need to scream. I need to yell his name and let him know how good he feels inside me. Tearing my mouth off his, I suck in a deep breath and bury my face in his neck.
Holding in my scream, I bite down, digging my teeth in his flesh to stay quiet. The orgasm floods my body, making my toes curl and my muscles shake.
His cock thickens inside me. I can feel it. His length fills me, pulsing and throbbing inside my body. With his face in the pillow behind me, he grunts lightly. His groan so low it's barely audible.
But I can hear it. I can hear him as his fingers drive into my hair, tangling around thick locks and pulling them hard. My scalp is burning as his cock jerks inside my body, pumping me full of hot cum.
My muscles relax, legs falling open, releasing him as he drapes over me. He's breathing heavily, his heart beating inside his chest like a drum. His cock is still inside me, still twitching and pulsing.
Pushing up on his forearms, Mark touches the tips of his fingers to my face as he looks down on me. “I wish you could stay here all night.”
“Me too,” I say. Running my nails up and down his back. I kiss him. “I can stay for a little while.”
“No, we might fall asleep. I'd hate to cause more problems between you and your family. But maybe tomorrow you can show me some more stuff around the city. I'm going to get a hotel for the rest of the time I'm here. This way there's no issue.”
“No,” I blurt out. “I'll talk to them. I'll make them let you stay for the rest of the time you're here. I don't want you to leave.”
Mark smiles and kisses me on the forehead. “I'm not going to tell you what to do for me. You do whatever you feel is right. That's what I really want. I want you to start doing things for you and no one else. Not for me, and not for your parents. For you. I'll stay if they say I can, but if they say no, I'll go someplace else. I'm not going to be the reason you guys fight, so long as you start seeing your own worth, and standing up for yourself.”
My eyes dart between his and I can see he's serious. I know in my heart he's right. What's the point of living if you're always doing it for someone else? What kind of life is this if it's not mine but someone else's version for me?
Kissing Mark one last time, I head back to my room, falling asleep easily this time. It's like he pulled a weight off my shoulders. He gave me the strength to open my eyes and see things need to change if I want to truly be happy.
After a pretty heated conversation with my parents the next morning, I'm able to get them to agree to letting Mark stay here for the last few days of his trip under one condition: he stays clear of any of the social events my mother has planned.
I readily agree, doing my best to hide the smile I feel inside. I've been trying to figure out the best way to take my life back without hurting my parents. Despite what people might think, and no matter how much control they want to have, I know they love me and want the best for me.
The last couple of days Mark and I tour the city. I take him to the Statue of Liberty and Times Square. We hit the best places for pizza and all the little restaurants that look like a hole in the wall, but the food is to die for.
And the sex. . . The sex has been incredible. At the studio, in his room, in my room, anywhere in the house when no one else is home. I can't stop what's happening to me. I can feel him everywhere. His touch, his voice, his lips and cock, all of it. The connection is like nothing I've ever experienced.
My favorite part about him being here is the time we spend in my studio. He watches me paint, admiring me with so much affection and desire in his eyes, it makes me feel full. The studio feels more like home than my actual house.
In the studio there's no judgment, no expectations, no rules. I get to be me, to do the only thing that's ever given me joy in this world.
I think that's what scares me the most about rejecting my parents altogether. Losing my studio will gut me if I don't have a place to paint.
Waking up with a smile, I grab my phone and send him a good morning text. The time and date light up on the screen and something catches my eye.
It's the tenth already? Wasn't my period due a few days ago?
My heart starts racing and my body grows warm. There's an instant pit in my stomach the more I try to remember the last time I had my period. It was right before Jenna's wedding, I know that much.
I should have had it by now.
Oh fuck. . . Oh fuck. . .
I run to the bathroom and splash my face with cold water. Looking at myself in the mirror, I watch the water drip down my face as a very palpable reality hits me. Mark and I didn't use protection that first night, and we haven't even attempted at all this week either. I've been stupid and reckless. I haven't been thinking at all. I've been driven by emotion and just feeling good. All rational thoughts have been tossed aside.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. It can't be. No, I'm not—
Holy shit, what if I actually am. . .?
12
Mark
Sipping my beer, I watch Siobhan from the corner of my eyes. She's quiet, fiddling with the corner of the napkin under her cup of tea. She's staring out over the sea of people moving around us, but at the same time, she isn't really looking at any one thing.
I can't figure out what's wrong or changed, the past few days have been incredible. She's been nothing but smiles, and now she's withdrawn and distant. It doesn't make sense.
Following her eyes, she's fixed on a pigeon, blankly tracking it as it hops around the sidewalk.
“Crazy that a bug eyed bird like that saved thousands of lives.”
“What?” she asks, peering up at me with a lost look.
What is going on in her head?
“Pigeons,” I say, pointing to the bird pecking the ground around the trash can. “They were used to fly updates to soldiers in World Wars one and two.”
“Oh.” Her voice falters, lowering to a whisper as she gives me a weak smile. “I didn't know that.”