I grin.
“There’s the spirit.”
Mark exhales a laugh against my cheek, but his hand stays exactly where it is.
Warm.
Possessive.
Dangerously easy to lean into.
His mouth drifts to my jaw.
Then just below my ear.
I tip my head back before I can pretend otherwise.
“This,” I say, not entirely steadily, “feels like a better use of the morning.”
“Hm.”
His lips brush my throat.
Another small shiver works its way down my spine.
“Philip,” he murmurs, and the way he says my name—low, almost reverent—sends a shiver down my spine.
I swallow. “Yeah?”
“Tell me what you want.”
I reach out, my fingers brushing the warm skin of his forearm, tracing the edge of a tattoo—a serpent coiled around a wrench, the details intricate, the ink slightly raised under my touch. His muscles tense, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t rush. Just waits.
“I want you to fuck me,” I say, the words coming out rougher than I intended. My voice cracks slightly on the last syllable, and I clear my throat, but I don’t look away. Can’t. Not when his eyes are burning into me like this.
Mark’s groans, just barely. His chest rises, falls. Then his hand is on my waist, large and calloused, pulling me flush against him. The heat of hisbody seeps through my shirt, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against my hip. I gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders, fingers digging into the solid muscle there.
“Say it again,” he demands, his voice a growl.
I lick my lips. “Fuck me, Mark.”
His mouth crashes onto mine, and it’s nothing like the slow, teasing kisses we’ve shared before. This is hunger. This isneed. His tongue pushes past my lips, claiming me, and I moan into his mouth, my body arching into his. His hands are everywhere—one tangled in my hair, the other gripping my ass. The kiss is filthy, wet, our teeth clacking together as we fight for dominance. I bite his lower lip, and he groans, the sound vibrating against my chest.
“Upstairs,” he growls, breaking the kiss just long enough to speak. “Now.”
I don’t argue. Can’t. My brain’s too fuzzy with lust, my body too desperate for more. He takes my hand, his fingers laced tightly with mine, and leads me out of the kitchen. The wooden stairs creak under our weight as we climb, the sound loud in the quiet house. The bedroom is bathed in the morning sun light streaming through the windows, the sea-green walls casting everything in a soft, aquatic hue.
Mark doesn’t let go of my hand. He pulls me to the center of the room, then turns me to face him, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of my trousers. “These need to come off.”
I nod, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of my shirt. He watches as I strip, his gaze dark and intense, tracking every inch of skin I reveal. The air is cool against my heated flesh, raising goosebumps along my arms. By the time I’m naked, my cock is fully hard, leaking at the tip, and Mark’sstill fully dressed. The asymmetry of it—me bare, him clothed—sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough. He reaches out, his knuckles brushing the underside of my cock, and I jerk, a broken sound escaping my throat.
“Mark—”
“Shh.” He presses a finger to my lips, then replaces it with his mouth, kissing me slow and deep. His free hand trails down my chest, over my stomach, then wraps around my cock. I groan into the kiss, my hips bucking into his touch. He strokes me once, twice, his thumb swiping over the slick head, and I’m already close, my balls drawing up tight.
“Not like this,” I gasp, pulling back. “I want youinsideme.”
