Bucking my hips, my clit begins to pulse with a heartbeat of its own. My skin flushes pink as my entire body heats from the inside out. Mark's dark eyes grow even darker as his brows dip in and his jaw clenches tight.
His touch becomes rougher, fingers greedier, hands more intense as he smooths his palms down my ribs, moving them around to my back, and up to my shoulder blades. Pulling me down, he crushes my chest to his.
“Mm, Mark,” I moan.
Over and over my hips slam down and his cock thrusts up. My moans grow in volume, turning from soft to loud and frantic. I'm so close, every inch of my skin is buzzing with electricity.
Wrapping his strong arms around my back, he holds me so close I can feel his heart pounding. Mark's fingers spread wide open on my back, keeping me right where he wants me. My nipples turn stiff and my pussy seeps as he keeps grinding up.
His lips find mine. Forceful and manic as his length turns hard as diamond. Every muscle in his body begins to tremble. I can feel his fingertips as they vibrate, his arms as they shake, and his stomach as it quivers.
I'm drunk on him. Swaying my hips, I can hardly lift myself anymore as the orgasm sweeps through my body rendering me weak. My muscles collapse, surrendering to the feeling coursing through my veins.
Mark's fingers run through my hair as he pulls his cock free. “Now that's a wakeup call,” he says with a chuckle.
Giggling, I push my hands into his pecs and sit up. “What time is it?” I ask, searching for the clock.
“Almost eight.”
“Shit, my flight leaves soon.”
Letting my eyes fall to his, I see a flicker of sadness cross his face. It's brief, gone with a single blink. Thinning my lips, I smile, and climb off him. As much as I don't want to leave, I know I have to.
“I had fun,” I say as I grab a pair of boy-shorts from my suitcase and slip them on.
“Me too.” He plants his feet on the floor and scratches sleepy fingers through his hair. Yawning, he gives me a half smile. “I lost my pants,” he says, looking around the floor.
“They're over here.” Picking them up, I toss them to him. “You know checkout isn't until eleven, you don't have to rush out. You could stay and sleep a little longer.”
“No, it's cool. I have shit to get done today anyway.”
Digging out a pair of jeans and a pair of red heels, I slip them both on. Pulling a shirt over my head, I start to pack up my stuff. Folding my dress, I lay it in the bag, tucking my heels from the night before beside it.
“I think I have everything.”
Mark chuckles as he tugs his button-up over his thick arms. “You weren't kidding.”
“About what?”
His eyes drop to my feet. “Heels. You really do wear them all the time.”
Looking down, I roll my foot side to side. “I sure do. I wasn't lying when I told you that.”
“You ever think about changing them in for a sneakers?”
“Nope.” Grinning wide, I say, “I can run better in these than any pair of sneakers.”
“Ha!” he laughs out loud and shakes his head. “You keep telling yourself that.”
Standing my suitcase up, I pull out my phone and call a taxi. “I can't miss this plane.”
“Why? You got people waiting on you back home?”
“Always.” My voice is flat. “In my world everyone is waiting on me for something.”
Mark eyes me for a second, leaving whatever questions he has unasked. But I can see the curiosity in his eyes. He wants to know more, but maybe he just doesn't see a point in asking.
This was a chance night. Something that ends the second I walk out that door. There's no point in exchanging stories. This is just about sex.
My phone pings in my hand. “My cab's here.”
Reaching down he grabs the handle of my luggage. “Here, I'll walk you out.”
We head to the front, and I check out. Of course the person working is someone else Mark knows. They exchange a little back and forth chatter, niceties really. A quick how are you, how's the crop, how's your family. All the things you get from rural America.
At least it seems genuine.
It's hard to wrap my head around the nature of these town folk. In the city everyone is so shallow, so focused on themselves that even a single friendly greeting leads to discussion about the atrocities someone else committed. A slack jaw response with no real care to actually knowing how you truly are. It's more important to spread all the slander and lies than truly care about someone else. They let rumors forge the way and either open doors or slam them in your face.
I follow Mark out the front door to the yellow taxi waiting for me in the parking lot. Mark taps the trunk and the man inside pops it open. Setting my luggage in the back, he slams it shut and steps to my side. Slipping his hand around my waist, he softly plays with the loop on the back of my jeans.
“You're going to send me some of your art still, right?”
“You seriously want me to?”
Nodding, he runs his tongue across his bottom lip. “Yeah, I'd love to see it. I'm not an artist, but as a mechanic, I can appreciate the work people do with their hands.”
Smiling bashfully, I let my eyes drop to the ground as my cheeks blush. “Okay, I will.”
“Let me see your phone,” he says.
Handing it over, he taps the screen and then hands it back. “There. You have my information now, number and address.”
Peering up at him, his eyes dance between mine as he licks his lips again. His breathing is slowing down, and his expression goes slack. His hand moves to the small of my back and he pulls me in with one good tug.
Tilting his head, he leans in and kisses me. It's slow, sweet, and I can feel it down to my toes. This kiss soaks through every pore on my body, causing my blood to percolate and my stomach to burn. The heat moves through me, making my panties wet and my heart race.
Don't let it in, Sia. One night stand, remember that.
Mark pulls away, breaking our kiss, but my lips don't want to leave his. I want more. More of his kiss. More of his touch. Just more of him.
“Don't forget to send me a painting.” The tips of his fingers linger on my skin as he slowly lets his arm loosen and fall free. Opening the door to the cab for me, he closes it once I'm inside, and taps the roof of the car.
Mark backs away, watching me as the driver pulls onto the street. Giving me a small wave, I wave back, keeping my eyes out the back window until we're too far away for me to see him anymore.
My lips buzz, still warm from his kiss. Reaching up, I smile to myself and touch my mouth. This is a trip I'll never forget. I met someone who didn't cringe when I said I loved painting. A man who didn't look down on me for not being “one of them”.
And for that, this trip is entirely worth it.
5
Mark
Pushing myself out from under the hood of the tractor, I wipe my hands on the oil stained rag tucked in my back pocket.
“All right, you should be good now.” Cleaning off the oil and grit between my fingers, I take a step back. “Your float in the carb was all gummed up. I cleaned it like new and it should be good to go. If it gives you any more issues, just let me know.”