Rock Chick Reawakening (Rock Chick 0.5)(46)
God, not for the first time I encountered skin that felt amazing.
Through all this, Marcus kissed me.
Suddenly, he rolled so he was on his back, I was on top, and he sat up, so I was forced to straddle him.
My coochie liked the kissing.
It liked the straddling better.
“Baby,” I whispered.
He pushed the hoodie down my shoulders.
I tossed it away.
His eyes holding mine, he went after the back clasp of my bra.
His fingers there, and that was it.
He needed me to give him permission. To let him know where I was at. To show him I was with him, only him, this was only him and me.
God.
Marcus Sloan.
“Please,” I breathed.
It came loose then the bra was gone.
He looked at me exposed to him in his bed for the first time, not on a stage, and he whispered, “So beautiful.”
God.
Marcus Sloan.
“Kiss me, honey,” I begged.
His hands went up my back, into my hair, pulling my face to his, and he kissed me.
He did a lot of kissing. In fact, he kept my mouth occupied with his lips and tongue the whole time it took him to get my clothes off, his clothes off (but he let me help with that part). And he kissed me the whole time he touched me, no, caressed me, his hands roaming, slow, gentle, sweet, over every inch of me.
Finally, finally, he bent and took my nipple in his mouth.
That shot so hot up my coochie, I slid my fingers in his hair, my neck twisting to the side, and I gasped, “Yes.”
He worked me there just like he always worked me with his kisses these past weeks and everything he’d done that night.
Slow. Gentle. Sweet.
And just the same way, as his lips moved to my other nipple, his hand slid over my hip, over my belly and down.
I opened my legs for him.
His fingers slid through me.
My lips parted, my hips lifted, his mouth went away, and I righted my head to catch his gaze.
Watching me, his face dark and beautiful, he stroked a finger inside.
And when he did, his face got darker, more beautiful.
And hungry.
My hands darted out and clutched his arms, my eyes drifting closed, I whimpered, “Marcus.”
His thumb hit me, my body jolted, my eyes shot open, and I saw he was still watching me.
“Inside,” I gasped.
“In a minute, baby.”
“Inside,” I pleaded.
“Daisy—”
I lifted my hands to wrap them around either side of his neck, moaned as his thumb put on more pressure, and then I demanded huskily, “I need you inside, honey.”
He was Marcus.
He didn’t make me ask again.
He rolled between my legs. I felt his hand leave me but right after something hard and silky started gliding, sliding.
And then…
Then…
Eyes locked to mine, slow, gentle, sweet, Marcus Sloan, my man, the man every step of my life had been leading me to, slid inside me.
“Now, this…” I breathed. “This is where I was always meant to be.”
Beauty scored through his expression before his head dropped, he shoved his face in my neck and he groaned, “Daisy.”
I turned so I had my mouth to his ear. “Take what’s yours, baby.”
He did.
Pulling his face out of my neck, taking my mouth, he moved inside me and he took what was his.
Giving himself to me.
And a whole lot more.
I cried the intensity of my orgasm down his throat, clutching him with everything I had, limbs wrapped around, fingers gripping his hair, body shuddering.
He returned the beauty when his head snapped back, he buried himself inside me, his body bucked into mine, and I received it gratefully (still shuddering).
When he was done, he dropped to me but only for a breath before he rolled us but kept us connected and held me tight on top of him.
My forehead pressed to the side of his neck, I didn’t bother trying to steady my breathing. I just let each breath rush out against his skin as I committed every second of the last twenty minutes to memory.
Every second.
It was only when I felt his fingertips drawing patterns on my hip that I realized both our breaths were steady.
His fingers clenched into my flesh suddenly and his voice was thick and astounding when he asked, “You’re falling in love with me?”
I drew in breath.
Then I lifted my head and looked down at him.
God, he wasn’t handsome.
He was everything.
“I was,” I answered.
His sated gaze went guarded.
“You were?”
“That ship has sailed, sugar. And I’m on it. It’s called,” I drawled out my last, “the Love Boat.”
And I grinned when, under me and all around, I heard, saw, and felt my man burst out laughing.
Chapter Ten
The Second
Marcus
When it was almost too late, Marcus pulled out of Daisy’s mouth and got to his knees in their bed.
Her torso shot up so she was on her knees, too.
Her eyes also narrowed and she snapped, “I wasn’t done!”
Marcus hooked her with his arm around her waist, felt her surprised, breathy cry carve through his throbbing cock as he lifted her up and swung her in front of him.