Sure as shit, the text thread between us is still on the screen, and somewhere along the lines, I had accidentally called him. A wave of humiliation washes over me because I never deliberately unlocked my phone to make that call, which means he’s been on the line the whole time.
How did I not hear it ring? Or him pick up? Or was it so obvious what I was doing when he answered that he just stayed silent, and then decided to help me out along the way?
I have no idea; all I know is the throaty pleas I thought I’d imagined had been real and Marcus had been an active participant during my solo time session, along with bearing witness to the million times I breathed outhisname.
Mortification spreads through me like a wildfire, and with an abysmal cry of‘oh fuck, no’,I end the call. What in the actual fuck am I gonna do now? Because I know there is no way in hell he’s going to let that slide.
My brain didn’t give me a moment’s rest all night long, instead choosing to spiral from what happened. I contemplated everything from trying to gaslight Marcus into believing he’d imagined it to fleeing the country, changing my name, and becoming a monk.
But the rational me knows there’s no way around facing what happened. So, with weary, bloodshot eyes, I try my best to put on a facade that says I, in no way, care about what happened last night. I tell myself to just face it head-on, then I peek out of my room and tiptoe all the way downstairs, hoping he’s already left for the day. So much for facing it head-on.
I let out a breath of relief when he’s nowhere in sight, but it’s not even fully expelled before a low ‘sleep well?’ rumbles in my ear.
The yelp of surprise that leaves my lips at the suddenness of his appearance is probably the most unflattering sound I’ve ever made in my life. I turn and level him with a glare, the jump scare amping up my fight mode just enough to stare him down and hang on to whatever remaining dignity I have left. It’s slight at best, but just enough to hold my head up high.
“Just fine, thank you,” I airily sniff out, but the smug-ass grin on Marcus’s face doesn’t waver a millimeter; if anything, it grows even wider.
His eyes take me in, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, slowly,purposely, with more intent than evenmyimagination could have captured last night at its peak. He’s not even touching me, and yet I can feel him more now than I could last night when I’d had my hand around my dick and my fingers submerged in my ass with his name on my lips.
“You know I’ve been trying so hard, Qiang, to behave. I know last night was an accident, but it finally told me that what I hoped wasn’t one-sided, isn’t. I can’t unknow it now, and I don’t think I can shut my feelings off anymore,” he breathes out as his eyes continue to strip me bare.
I don’t need him to fill in the gaps of what he left unsaid. I know if I told him to stop, he would, but after last night, I don’t know if I can. I’m not ready to embrace him, but I also don’t think I can send him away anymore, and he knows that now. Last night was a blunder through and through, but there’s no way to pretend how desperately I called out his name. There’s no pretending it’s one-sided anymore.
“Marcus–” But he must know, or have heard the censure in my tone, to know I’m not gonna make it easy, that Ican’tmake it easy.
His fingers coil just beneath my chin, tipping my head up as he steps so far into my space that our noses are just a hairbreadth apart. His breath puffs against my mouth, and his beautiful, deep eyes are locked so intensely on mine that he steals my ability to breathe, let alone speak.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to push you, but I’m not giving up on thisanymore, either. I want to hear you moan my name like you did last night with my cock buried in your ass. Or yours buried in mine. I don’t really give a fuck about logistics, pretty, as long as it’s you and me, flesh to flesh, with my name on your lips, and no phone static between us.”
I can’t think. I can barely function, and I lift my hands to push him away, but instead of succeeding, I just end up with my palms flat against his chest, feeling those muscles that spiked my arousal to its breaking point last night. The heavy thu-thump of my heart beats erratically as his heart beats just as wildly beneath my hands.
Instead of telling him to back off, “I’ve never said you couldn’t have that,” comes out of my mouth in a tone caught between censure and a breathless whine.
“You didn’t, but I left out the part where I want your mouth on mine, your heart in my hands, and mine in yours. I don’t just want to fuck you, I want you to be mine and mine alone, and I want to be yours and yours alone. A hook-up isn’t enough to put this fire out, pretty,” he says with a smile, reaching his hand up and lightly caressing my face until his thumb reaches my bottom lip. He presses in, just the slightest pressure there as though to physically imprint his spoken desires.
His eyes shimmer, and his usual lightheartedness replaces the intense staredown. He laughs lightly before stepping out of my space with a wide smile.
“Now have a good day, and I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” he says, his voice almost back to normal, before grabbing his bag off the counter and strolling out of the house as though any part of what just happened was normal on any level.
A heavy breath punches out of me as a weight I didn’t realize was there is slowly lifted. I sink gracelessly against the kitchen counter until I’m on my butt and taking deep breaths to calm back down. With each passing breath, the reality of the situation comes into clearer focus.
He’s not going to back down, and there’s a part of me that doesn’twant him to. A part of me thatwantshim to win. A part of me that terrifies the part of my brain that knows better, and that ugly part in the deep recesses of my mind slithers with discontent at knowing Marcus is winning.
FIGHT!
Marcus POV
I’ve been walking on clouds all day, bumping into shit and barely paying attention to what’s going on around me because I’m so fucking elated. I know there’s a bell ringing in the back of my head that’s telling me I broke some sort of chivalric code last night, but I don’t really give a damn.
When my phone rang last night after I sent Qiang that selfie, I expected some sort of sassy quip or lecture about sending naughty pics. Not that it was naughty at all. Just becauseIknow I was naked in the pic doesn’t meantheyknow that, since the pic cut off at my collarbones.
But instead of a lecture, I didn’t even get a ‘hello’ out before I heard the quiver in their voice that told me exactly what was happening on the other line. I’m not a fool. I quickly realized that I wasn’t supposed to hear that, and I had somehow, by the grace of kismet and every kind universal working in existence, been butt-dialed in the best fucking way.
And maybe, just maybe, if I hadn’t heard my name fall from their lips, I might have been decent enough to hang up the phone, but the second I heardthat, all bets were off.
I have never once said that I was a saint, and hearing them call for me,moanfor me, created an almost obsessive ache to hear more. I’ve been with countless people and have had nearly every type of sex imaginable, and yet none of that compares to the way my body reacted to Qiang moaning for me.
I’ve never been so completely waylaid, or desperate, or so fucking fulfilled like I was last night, and they didn’t even touch me. And then, following that up with the way they looked at me this morning. The unaffected show they very unsuccessfully tried to put on was completely expected, but how easily their eyes conceded defeat under my declaration was not.
