In Too Deep(93)

"Just Tabby and a few other friends." A thought came to my mind, and I reached over to take his hand, which was still on the gear shift. "Mark, am I going to have to leave my entire life behind?"

Mark looked out the windshield, his face stony. "I don't know, Sophie. I hope not, but I honestly don't know. Let's go inside."

I grabbed our bags while Mark talked to the man at the front desk, coming back with a key. "Room seven," he said, "around back like I asked. It's not visible from the road at all."

The room was clean but obviously dated. The television looked like it was older than I was, and the wood paneling screamed nineteen seventies. Still, the bed was king sized and looked clean, the sheets were white and crisp. Mark brought in a gym bag with him, which he sat down on the small table next to the window. Pulling the single chair around, he sat down, his eyes looking out. "You need some sleep," he said quietly, keeping his vigil. "I'll make sure you're safe."

I watched him for a moment before going into the old fashioned bathroom, complete with a tiny shower that looked like it was maybe able to create a good steam if I wanted it, and a slightly warped mirror. I had packed my toothbrush, but forgot my toothpaste, so I just used water, scrubbing until my tongue squeaked over the enamel. Scrubbing my face with the cold water and provided washcloth, I then looked at myself in the mirror. A thousand questions whirled in my mind, the primary one being what my future with Mark entailed. Should I stay with him? Should I disappear? Should I just wait it out, then see if I could go back to my old life, secure that Owen Lynch or the Confederation wouldn't come after me?

On one hand, I was angry with Mark. His lies and deception had cost me, at least temporarily, everything. My friends, my job, my diploma, even my name I was sure. On the other hand, he had defended me without even blinking, taking out two armed men before they could even lay a scratch on me.

I came out of the bathroom after changing into one of Mark's undershirts, a habit I'd picked up over the past few weeks, and an old pair of light blue cotton shorts. As soon as I saw him sitting there, his eyes filled with pain but at the same time resolute. I could see, he did love me. And he'd never hit me, or hurt me, or mistreat me. Most of all though, I could see that if I asked him to, he'd die protecting me, and trying to keep me safe. It made my decision easy.

Coming over, I ran my hands over his shoulders, which tensed beneath the thick shirt he was wearing. I leaned down, letting my breasts rest on the back of his shoulders and neck, running my hands over his chest. "If you really want to make me feel safe," I whispered in his ear, while my hands worked on the buttons of his shirt, "you'll take me to bed and make love to me. Keep me next to you, safe through the night."

Mark took my hand and kissed the palm, before turning his head to look up at me. I was surprised and touched to see the glisten of tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry I've destroyed your life," he whispered. "I'll do what I can to rebuild it."

"Then make love to me," I repeated, coming around and pulling him to his feet. "We'll discuss the rest in the morning."

I pressed my body against his, letting my hands roam over his chest and around to pull Mark against me. Standing on my tiptoes I could just reach his chin with my lips, so I kissed him there, trailing kisses down the sides of his neck. He initially resisted me, still stiff and unsure, but when I pulled his shirt back and over his shoulders, he let me. He was wearing a black t-shirt underneath that curved and rippled over each muscle in his beautiful chest. Stepping back I growled lightly, running my hands over my breasts, making sure to rub my nipples which were already stiffening through the thin t-shirt. "Don't make me get on my knees and beg," I moaned, lightly pinching my right nipple. "Because if I do, I'm going to pull your cock out of your pants and suck you until you come in my mouth, and I don't want that tonight."

"What do you want?" Mark asked, his voice slightly husky. His eyes followed my hands as I ran them down my stomach and over my hips, slipping my right hand inside my shorts to lightly tease me. I sighed and looked at him, my heart filled with desire and lust.

"I want you to f*ck me until you fill me with your cream," I sighed, stepping backward until my knees bumped against the edge of the bed and I sat down. I spread my legs, feeling my juices already start to soak into the thick cotton. I pulled my hand out of my shorts and brought it under my nose, inhaling the spicy thickness. "Don't you want to taste?"

My last question broke Mark's reservations, and he walked over to the door of the room, double checking both locks before jamming the chair he'd been sitting in against the door. The window had security bars, which wouldn't stop a bullet but would stop an intruder at least momentarily, I guessed. Turning to me, he knelt down, quickly unlacing his boots before taking them off and placing them at the foot of the bed. He stood, unbuckling his belt and letting his cargo pants fall down his hips, his cock already straining against his underpants. I noticed he was wearing compression shorts. "Were you dressed for war or something?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbows. "You don't happen to have a knife or gun hidden anywhere on that body of yours, do you?"

"Just two," Mark teased, pulling his t-shirt off. I could see the first knife, a small little blade on a chain around his neck, and he knelt down to take off the other one, which had been strapped unseen near his right ankle. "There, now I'm unarmed."