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She’s still so fucking beautiful. I’m spellbound as she pauses to remove her trench coat and hang it in the closet. She holds the doorknob as she toes off her boots, bending down to slip off her white ankle socks. Her long hair falls around her arms in large curls, but when she stands, her expression is so sad, so broken.
On both the train to Canada and the beach in Nice, she still had a spark of determination. Now the light seems to have gone out, and it touches something inside of me.
All these observations occur in the half-second before she sees me. The moment she does, everything changes.
“Mark!” she gasps, blue eyes wide with shock.
I’m across the room in five steps, and she tries to back away, slamming against the closed door. Her eyes close, and her hands go up in a defensive pose.
Without hesitation, I clutch her upper arms in my fists, pulling her against my chest. The heat of her skin is against mine, and her warm breath skates across my neck.
“Surprised to see me?” It’s a low, husky growl, and my insides hum with all the emotions swirling tightly into a ball of rage and relief and fucking love for this woman.
She’s panting, and with every breath, her breasts strain against her thin shirt.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
My face is close to hers, our noses nearly touching. “Did you think I’d ever stop looking for you? Did you think I wouldn’t find my daughter?”
Her eyes blink up to mine, ocean blue touched with tears. We gaze deeply into each other’s souls for the beat of two hearts, and in that space I feel my wall of anger start to crack.
With a groan, I lean down and take her lips. I push them apart and sweep my tongue inside. She’s off her feet, her hands in the sides of my hair, and our mouths chase each other’s. We’re biting and pulling lips, tongues entwining, the flavors of mint and sugar mingling in our mouths.
I lift her ass and carry her to the large bed in the center of the room, tossing her roughly onto her back. She makes a little cry, moving to her side as she watches me wide-eyed. I rip off my blazer, followed quickly by my tie.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is thick with need.
“You know what I’m doing.” My shirt is over my head, and her eyes darken as they slide down my bare torso.
“Take off your clothes,” I say, and she immediately grasps the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in a sweep.
Dark hair cascades around her shoulders, around her bra, which is sheer black lace. I see her dark nipples straining through the fabric, and my dick is an iron rod in my pants.
“All of it.” I grasp my belt, then the button on my slacks.
She unfastens her jeans and lifts her hips to shove them off. I take them from her, dragging the tight fabric down the length of her silky legs. Stepping back, I drop them on the floor and admire her new curves. My tongue passes over my bottom lip as my eyes zero in on the triangle of fabric covering her bare pussy.
She whimpers, and I put a knee on the bed, climbing toward her like a lion stalking its prey, claiming what’s mine.
I grasp the tiny scrap of lace and rip it off her body. She emits a little cry, and I bend down, pushing her thighs apart and sliding my tongue up the sweet spot between her legs. Her body falls back and she moans loudly as I focus my efforts on her clit. Holding her down, I circle that sensitive bud as her fingers thread and pull my hair, her nails curling and scratching my shoulders.
“Mark… Mark…” She chants my name as her hips rotate in time with my tongue.
Her taste is in my mouth, and I feel as the tremors rise in her legs, moving higher into her belly, her moans growing louder.
“I’m coming,” she gasps, trembling more.
With one last pull, I kiss my way up to her navel, to her breasts still covered in black lace. Shoving the cups down, I pull a tight nipple into my mouth.
“Yes,” she hisses, holding my cheeks now, her elbows bent beside her body.
She’s squirming beneath me, shimmering on the edge of orgasm, when I rise
up and look into her eyes. She’s desperate with desire, flushed and needy.
“What do you want?” I demand, holding her shoulders with my hands.
She blinks rapidly. “You,” she whispers.
