Page 22 of Marked With Love

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“Good thing you don’t have to settle for someone half my size. You get all of me. You can take me, Button. You’re a good girl.” I give her a light tap on her ass.

She sucks in a breath and takes another half inch inside of her. Her wet, needy flesh surrounds me. I grab her hair and bring her mouth down to mine. Our flavors are mixed on her tongue, creating an intoxicating elixir that nearly sends me over the edge again. She bears down, taking more and more of me until my cock is completely subsumed. She lets out a small whimper of pain that kills me. I let her settle and her body adjust as I keep kissing her. It’s hard to hold on to control knowing I’m the only man that has been inside of her. The only one that ever will. Now I know why I’ve held myself back all these years. I’ve been waiting for her. My muse.

Slowly I widen my legs, pushing her knees outward until she has almost no leverage and her body is open for the taking. I stroke her slowly at first, easing her into the sensation of having my shaft moving in and out of her pussy.

She whimpers against my mouth. I draw back. “You okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. You fit...barely.” She gives me a weak, shaky smile.

“I’m going to be careful with you.” I swipe the hair away from her face. “You’re precious to me. I only want you to feel good. Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not, and it is, but don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.” She pushes on my shoulders and lifts herself up and then falls again. I take over from there, thrusting into her. My groans mingle with her cries and the wet suck of her cunt as she takes every inch of me.

I press my heels into the floor and drive upward, each thrust more powerful than the last until her orgasm seizes her. She throws her head back and screams her release. I let myself go, my cum shooting through my cock and into her ripe cunt.

She collapses in my arms, and we both struggle to regain our breath. On unsteady legs, I rise with her still clutched around my body. I make it over to the sofa and then collapse, drawing a blanket over us. “We’re going to rest here for five and then I’m taking you upstairs to clean you up and put you to bed.”

She nods and then passes out. She barely rouses when I finally get a little of my strength back and am able to get to my feet.

“Taking you upstairs, Button.”

She rubs her chin against my chest, more kitten-like than Gremlin has ever been. My cat greets us at the top of the stairs with an unhappy meow. The little bit is hungry. I gently lay Morgan on the bed. “In a sec, Gremlin. Gotta take care of your new mistress.”

In the bathroom, I run a couple washcloths under hot water and take them back to the bed. One of them I place between her legs and the other I use to wipe the sweat off her body. Her eyes flutter open while I’m cleaning her.

“I feel like a baby,” she says softly. “My arms are like noodles.” She raises one arm and lets it flop back onto the mattress.

“You are mine to baby, and your arms don’t have to be strong. That’s why I’m here.” I remove the cloth between her legs, pull the blankets up to her chin, and give her forehead a kiss. “I’m going to feed Gremlin before he claws my Achilles in half, and then I’ll be back up here with some food for you.”

I give her another kiss, this time on her sweet lips. Gremlin bats at my ankle as I reach the stairs. “I’m moving,” I tell him. He meows and motors down the stairs in excitement. Or hunger. After I’m done tending to the cat, I heat up a carton of chicken noodle soup and bake some biscuits from a can. A glass of milk for her and a beer for me finishes off the tray. When I return to the bedroom, Morgan grips the blanket to her chest as she scoots upright.

“The soup smells amazing. Did your mom make that?”

“Affirmative. Homemade soup is outside of my skill set.” I lay the tray across her legs and then drag a chair over. I dip the spoon into the soup. “Open up.”

“I can feed myself,” she protests.

“I know, but this is part of me taking care of you.” I wait until her lips part. She lets me feed her, alternating between the soup and the biscuits. I steal some for myself but make sure her belly is full. By the time we are scraping the bottom of the bowl, her eyelids start to droop. She slides back down and tucks her hands under her cheek. She might not be a baby, but she’s as sweet and innocent as one. My heart swells as I think of the gift she gave me. She’s mine to protect now, and I’ll mow down anything that stands in the way of us being together.



When I wake,it’s dark out, but Eros left the bathroom light on with the door cracked open so that I could see. I bet he worried I would wake up and forget where I was. The man is very thoughtful. I watch him sleep knowing it’s creepy, but I don’t care. He’s this puzzle I can’t work out in my head. Grams always told me that one day I’d find a man I couldn’t resist. I used to always laugh, thinking she was being ridiculous. She’d been right, as always.

Now what? A weird panic starts to rise inside of me. My mind begins getting away from me, wondering what it is that Eros sees in me. I’m a bit odd. There is no denying that. I’m not your typical girl. Plus, I have strange family baggage that I try to avoid myself. I’m sure he’d want no part of it either.

He probably thinks I’m hip and fun all the time with my pink hair and ripped-up clothes. That I’m a rebel or something. I suppose at times I can be, but what happens when the thrill starts to fade and the expectation of who he thinks I am or wants me to be starts to settle in?

There are always expectations. Believe me, I know firsthand from growing up with my parents. The only person that has never put them on me was Grams. Even Blake was a little intimidated by me at first, but then I grew on her. I mean, she kinda had no choice, considering we were stuck in a room together. There was no other option but to get to know the real person. Thankfully, we loved who that other person was. In a weird way, Blake and I fit even with us looking opposite.

If I really think about it, Eros and I actually do fit from the outside glancing in. Two artists who have a few quirks. But really, I don’t think I’m that quirky. In fact, I love watching scary movies and knitting in my free time with Grams.

I’m in two online romance book groups even though I tell everyone that love is for suckers. It’s not my fault that I can’t stop reading them. Eros doesn’t really know me at all. I’m afraid when he finally does, I won’t be so unique anymore. I think part of my style is me and another part is to rebel against my mom and dad. They still somehow have this control over me. Those damn expectations are always lurking around every corner.

I’m going to get my heart broken. The one I’ve spent most of my life protecting. I’ve got loving trust issues, a therapist once told me. Obviously, I never went back 'cause what she was laying down is that I don’t think my own parents really love me so I don’t think others can either. Who wants to own having Mommy and Daddy issues? Plus have to pay to have someone tell you that you have those issues? No thanks.

Ever so slowly, I untangle myself from Eros’ hold and get out of the bed. I give a small wince at the tenderness between my thighs. The man really gave my body a workout. The way he couldn’t seem to get deep enough, how he took over. It was all so consuming. I let go and allowed him to take over. The first time was dirty and raw.

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