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|Fall From India Place(On Dublin Street #4)(44) by Samantha Young|
Feeling like one of my scolded schoolchildren, I crossed my arms over my chest and answered somewhat petulantly, “Were you always this bossy?”
A dangerous glint entered his eyes. “Oh, babe, you haven’t seen bossy.”
I let out a gasp of surprise as he pushed me against the arm of the sofa so I had no choice but to sit on it, and shoved my skirt up to my waist in one rapid, smooth movement.
I clung to the sofa, feeling a heady mixture of apprehension and excitement as he roughly yanked my underwear down my legs. He pushed in between my legs, gripping my nape with one hand and tugging at his zipper with the other.
His kiss was hard, desperate, and that plus the torturous press of his throbbing c**k against my sex was too much. He rubbed against me, stole me out of myself with his erotic kisses, and teased me until my skin was inflamed.
By the time my mouth was swollen from his kisses, I felt his fingers slip inside me, testing my readiness. He practically growled in satisfaction before he removed his fingers and thrust his c**k inside me.
I cried out in pleasured pain, holding on to Marco for dear life as he gripped my hips and f**ked me on the arm of my couch. It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t slow and deep and driven by longing. This was driven by frustration, confusion, desperation, and lust. It was ragged. It was intense. And I was so hot for him I came fast and I came hard.
Coming down from my climax, I felt my inner muscles spasm as Marco growled, “Fuck, Hannah. Fuck, feels so good,” before groaning as he came inside me.
Panting for breath, feeling somewhat bewildered by how different and yet exciting that had been, I waited for Marco to make the next move.
His next move was to kiss me slowly, sweetly, and pull back to ask in belated concern, “You okay? I wasn’t —”
I covered his mouth with my hand, smirking in satisfaction. “I might have to piss you off more often.”
He rewarded my humor with a wicked grin. “My baby likes it hard.”
“I like you,” I whispered, feeling that ache in my chest expand.
He brushed his knuckles along my jaw, tenderness burning in his eyes now. “Does that mean you’re going to give this a real shot? No more avoiding us?”
I thought about him sitting out on my front stoop in the winter cold.
“Yes.” I slid my arms around his neck, pulling him close. “This is me officially giving us a shot.”
Years ago, when I was attempting to understand the rings Joss made Braden jump through before finally admitting they were meant for each other, Joss had told me that she had been so happy for the first time in so long that it paralyzed her with fear.
Instead of being able to enjoy what they had, Joss was thinking one hundred miles down the road in front of them, fearing a bend in that road, one that they’d take too sharply and end up careening headlong into disaster.
I understood how she could feel that way, now more than ever.
The next week with Marco was exhilarating in its simple beauty. He spent every night at my place, including the weekend, and we made love. Sometimes it was sweet and sometimes it was wild, and every time it was mind-blowing. When we weren’t going at it like teenagers who’d just discovered the power of sex, we hung out like always. It was addictive. He was addictive. I felt so content I was scared of it.
Distracted by Marco, distracted by my tumultuous emotions, I was behind on work.
The following Thursday I knew I had to skip out on lunch and use that time and the free period I had next to catch up on my marking. My head was down, my stomach was growling, and I was lost in papers when a knock on my door brought me out of them.
Although my heart jumped at the sight of Marco standing in my doorway, I frowned. “What are you doing here?” My eyes ran the length of him. He was wearing his work clothes. I tried to ignore the fact that I found him sexy like this.
Marco shrugged, taking long-legged strides toward me and I noted the brown bag in his hand. “Anisha let me in at Reception.” He pulled a wrapped sandwich out of the bag and placed it on the desk in front of me. A bottle of water followed it. “You sounded stressed this morning.” Grabbing a chair he put it opposite my desk and sat down, pulling another sandwich out of the paper bag. “I just wanted to make sure you ate something.” A pucker appeared between his brows. “You’ve lost weight recently.”
Touched by his thoughtfulness, I smiled as I picked up the sandwich. “The weight loss is because of all the sex. Someone hasn’t left me alone for the past week and a half.”
He grunted. “Like you’re complaining.”
I shrugged noncommittally and he smiled before biting into his sandwich.
“FYI, I got my period this morning, so no sex for us for the next few days.”
“Nice timing. I’ve got my family thing this weekend.”
There was that sinking feeling back to piss me off some more. “Family thing. Right.”
Marco shot me a knowing look. “Soon,” he promised. Changing the subject quickly, he gestured to my marking. “You can work, babe.”
He sat quietly, eating his lunch, while I ate mine and did my marking at the same time.
An hour passed in perfect, comfortable silence and by the end of it I couldn’t help myself.
I felt it.
That night I felt it even more. After I’d told him about my period, a small part of me (okay, a large part of me) assumed I wouldn’t see him that night since we couldn’t have sex.
If I’d bet on that I would have lost big.
After my literacy class, I returned to the flat to find Marco waiting for me. He cooked dinner. I read a book while he watched a movie. And when it was time for bed, we fell asleep on our sides, my legs tangled in his as he held me tight.
It was weird not to have Marco stay the night on Friday, nor wake up to him on Saturday morning. We’d been in a relationship for less than two weeks, and yet it felt like it had been so much longer. I guessed that was the history between us playing its part.
“I’m so bored,” Jo huffed, lolling her head back against the arm of the couch.
I’d chosen to hang out with Jo this weekend. Since arriving at her flat, I was somewhat regretting that decision. “Gee, thanks.”
“What?” she frowned at me. “What? Oh, no.” She waved my comment away. “I mean in general. Mick made me finish up work almost four months ago. I’ve literally read every book on the bloody planet. I’ve counted every crack in my ceiling a million times. I’ve seen more TV movies than I ever wanted to see in a lifetime. This baby needs to get out of me and get out of me soon.”