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He reaches our room, opens the door, and I grip his shirt before he ducks inside, but he keeps going, pulling me forward. When we're in the room he twirls around, slamming the door shut. "What do you want?" he demands, eyes narrowing on me. "Are you going to tell me I'm a psycho for hitting him? A monster?"
He flexes his fingers; his knuckles are crimson. Blood. Derek's blood.
I take a step back, but I don't want to run. I know I need to be there for him. "No, I'm not going to say that."
Sure, he’s sort of frightening right now. I’ve never seen him so pumped up and angry, so out of control. But I can also tell he’s hurting. Derek hit a nerve and Marco hit back. He’s not a monster, he’s just a man in agony and unable to express that in any way other than violence. I can’t run from him when he’s in turmoil. Not after everything he’s done for me. And I don’t want to either.
He scoffs, looking at me in disbelief. "Then what do you want? To tell me that you're afraid of me now? That I'm not the man you thought I was?"
I shake my head quickly. "I understand. He pushed you too far. I know that’s not the man you truly are."
Marco shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have done it. I lost control."
"It's okay," I say, reaching out to touch his arm. "I'm here for you. You don't have to go through this alone."
He looks at me, his expression softening. "Thank you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean for you to get involved in all of this. It's not your problem."
"I want to help," I say, looking into his eyes. "You're important to me and you were there when I needed someone. Can’t I be that for you too?"
He leans in, cupping my face with his hands. "You're important to me too," he says, before kissing me deeply.
I close my eyes, enjoying the soft pressure of his lips. I let myself sink into the kiss. Marco has used violence to defend me before. I know he's capable of hurting others. But he would never harm me. I'm sure of it.
Groaning, I kiss him harder, sliding my nails up the back of his suit. "Take this off," I insist. "I want to feel all of you."
Gripping the collar of his shirt, I help him undress. He kicks off his shoes; his belt clanking on the floor. I don't bother removing my clothes. They're the same skirt and blouse I had on in the car when we fucked in there. I don't need to get naked for him to touch me how we’re both aching for.
I need to feel the slickness of his skin beneath mine, the hardness of his muscle pressed into me. Sliding one hand down his chest, I brush my fingers through his hair, pulling him forward to kiss me again. He moans into my mouth, our tongues swirling against each other as we kiss.
He pushes me back until I have to lean against the wall. He slides his hands along my stomach, down to the waistband of my skirt. He hooks his fingers into the bunched fabric, pushing it down my hips, letting it crumple on the floor around my feet. I step out of the skirt and kick it aside, then reach back to unclasp my bra.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, cupping my breasts through my blouse and teasing my nipples with his thumbs. The sensation is electric, tingles shooting from my chest down to my clit. "I've been thinking about you this whole time."
"That must have been distracting," I murmur.
"You have no idea."
"Show me." My fingers scrape down his shoulders. I can tell he's holding back. He wants me, and he's trying to control himself. I don't want that kind of sex. I want him to let out all the tension he's holding inside.
Energy from wanting me.
Adrenaline from the fight.
Stress over his family's future.
I want to be the vessel he pours all of that into.
I press my breasts into his chest, feeling the contours of his muscles against my softness. His cock is hard and insistent, pressing into my stomach through his boxers as I kiss him. Taking my time, I grind my hips into his, rubbing my core against his length. I squeeze him through his underwear, feeling him twitch in my grip. Marco buries his hands in my hair, tugging me away from his cock. His face is hungry, and his eyes possess me."I need to fuck you," he growls. "Right fucking now."
He lays me back on the bed, hoisting my blouse out of the way. He presses his palms to my breasts. Blood from his busted knuckles and his brother's face smear on my milky skin. It excites me in a strange, primal way. I spread my legs, pulling him forward. His body is looming over me; I bury my face in his neck, scraping my teeth along his skin.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard," he groans, grinding his hips against my clit.
Reaching down, I slide my hand into his underwear and wrap my fingers around his cock. He's hard and hot, the skin tight around his shaft. I remove his underwear, freeing him.
He pins me against the bed with the weight of his body. "Don't move," he orders.
Crawling down my body he tastes each inch of skin. He teases my clit, letting out a growl when I cry out.
