Six Hot Single Dads. Lynne Marshall
threw back the covers and pulled her down onto the bed, but she had one more bit of business before they could go any further.
Kneeling between his legs, she shimmied his boxers down his hips. He was so ready and magnificent, it was hard to comprehend. Did the man have any shortcomings? She looked at him again. Definitely not. “I haven’t touched you yet, Marcus.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“I didn’t have the chance that night.”
“I don’t want to think about it. It’s too painful.”
She drew a finger up the center of his thigh, from his knee to the deep contour along his hip, causing him to buck off the bed. “Do you want me to touch you now?”
He propped himself up on his elbows. “Yes. Please.”
She lowered her head, huffing warm air against his length. “What about now?”
“You’re torturing me, Ash. Please just do it. I’m begging you.”
She didn’t want to make him beg at all. That wasn’t her aim. She just wanted it to be incredible, and she knew it would be so much better if he felt like he’d had to wait for it. The anticipation would make the reward that much sweeter. She gently reached out, taking him in hand and wrapping her fingers around him.
He growled like a bear—a big, happy bear. “That’s it.”
She caressed his length, up, rolling her palm over the tip, down to the base, tightening her grip as she went. She observed every reaction, making note of the things that made him want to watch, the things that made him close his eyes and roll his head to the side, the things that made his lips part in ecstasy. She loved having this small measure of control over him, pleasing him, knowing that at that moment, she could give him everything he wanted.
He sat up and rolled her to her back, resting his full body weight on her, his thigh rubbing between her legs. The pressure was immense. It made her light-headed. “I can’t wait any longer. I have to be inside you.” He pushed her hair from her face tenderly and kissed her—a soft, wet kiss.
“Make love to me,” she replied. Funny how things between them in the bedroom were so effortless. At least this time.
He sat up and opened the drawer of the chest next to his side of the bed, pulling out the foil pouch, ripping it open and putting it on. He crawled over to her as if he was hunting her. The anticipation made her knees knock to the side, opening herself to him. No more hiding. No more barriers.
He came inside, and she waited for the moment when everything would become blurry and the world would fall away. But being with Marcus was different—no hazy, dreamy state. No—this was strong, pulling her into the moment, demanding her presence.
“Look at me, Ash.” He thrust forcefully, deeply, but he was in no rush. Quite the opposite. “Tell me what you need.”
She shifted herself a tiny bit, and that left his pelvic bone to rub against her in the perfect spot. She pulled her knees higher, enjoying every sublime inch of him as he rode inside and out. She moaned softly. “That’s perfect. Stay right there.”
He sank down against her, adding to the pressure, kissing her deeply and passionately. Her hands traveled across his strong back, found his incredible ass, gave him a good grab to let him know he was everything she needed. Each thrust brought her closer to the edge. She felt her insides tightening, coiling, about to spring at any second. Her breaths became short and staccato. Marcus’s did, too.
“I’m so close,” she said, meeting him with her own force.
“Me, too. You feel amazing, Ash.”
She smiled and nestled her face in his neck, closed her eyes, her muscles contracting faster, stronger. He matched her intensity and she clutched his body, grabbing him with everything inside her, calling out. He followed soon after with a gruff rumble from the depths of his throat.
Still inside her, keeping her close, he rolled to his side and took her with him. He kissed her forehead dozens of times. She felt so adored. It wasn’t the after-the-fact cuddling she’d expected from Marcus. “That was fabulous,” he said. “I’m so sorry I made you wait, but I hope it was worth it.”
She sighed, drinking in his smell, his presence. She’d fantasized about this moment with Marcus, but to her great surprise, her own, very active imagination hadn’t come close. “It was worth it more than you know.”
* * *
Ashley woke before Marcus did. He was so gorgeous while he was sleeping, she could have stared at him for hours. But she really needed a glass of water, so she rolled out of bed quietly and crept into the kitchen. Her phone was sitting on the counter and she picked it up out of habit, but as soon as she saw the text from Grace, she really wished she hadn’t.
Maryann is out to get you, I swear. Can you get Marcus to go somewhere with you? So we can shut her up? Let me know so I can leak it. I hope you’re well. Missed you at work yesterday.
Following the text was a link to Maryann’s wretched website. The headline read, Manhattan Matchmaker and Brit Boyfriend a Sham.
Marcus’s steps came down the hall, and he approached her from behind at the center island, gripping her shoulders and kissing her neck. “Good morning.”
His kiss caused such a pleasant vibration, it almost made her forget the thing with Maryann. She loved hearing those two particular words delivered with his incredible accent. “Morning, definitely. Good is up for debate, but you kissing my neck makes it a lot better.”
He put a kettle of water on the stovetop. “I thought last night was magnificent, but if you want me to try harder, I just need some tea and breakfast. Maybe do some push-ups.” He winked and leaned against the kitchen counter.
Who knew he had a goofy side? She never would’ve seen it if things hadn’t happened the way they had. “Our friend Maryann has decided to strike. She wrote a story saying we’re fake. She says that you kicking down my door during the fire is proof. If you were my real boyfriend, you would’ve had a key. Or at least that’s what she claims should be obvious to anyone with half a brain.”
“That cow.” Deep crinkles marked his forehead as he rounded the island. He stood at her side, quickly slipping his warm hand beneath the hem of her tank top.
“Marcus, you can’t go around calling people that. It’s awful.”
“Sorry. It’s a Brit thing. It’s really not that bad back at home.” He scanned the article, shaking his head. “She’s trying to steal my heroic thunder. It’s not every man who can kick down a door, you know.”
“I still can’t believe you did that. Remind me on Monday to talk to my contractor about a stronger door.”
“Funny. Very, very funny.” The kettle whistled, rattling on the gas cooktop. Marcus turned off the heat and filled two mugs, dropping a tea bag into each. “And just because we’re a couple doesn’t mean we’ve exchanged keys. It doesn’t even mean that we’re shagging.”
“Nobody’s going to believe that. Any woman would have to be crazy not to try to get you into bed.”
“Is that so? Are you going to show me how sane you are by seducing me this morning?” he asked, hitting an earth-shatteringly low register with his voice.
“Right after we figure out what to do about this.”
“It’s very simple. I have the media night at the distillery tonight. Come with me. We already know how to put on a show for the cameras. I’m sure we’ll be even more convincing now. We’ve had practice.” His eyebrows bounced, prompting her to laugh.
“It’s not a bad idea, but considering recent events, I hadn’t exactly planned on going out tonight. I have nothing to wear. My fancy dresses all smell like smoke.”
“Nothing a little shopping can’t