Filed to story: Brace Face Betty Drama Story
I took control. I was brave. I realize I was unafraid, and that is a monumental step. “Fuck patience,” I say. “I don’t want to wait. I want to be normal. I want to feel you insi-“
Far too quickly, Marcus looks away, his head whipping around so that he’s looking out of the window. He’s frowning deeply, expression stormy, his dark eyes hard…and I’m struck with the awful realization that he might not actually want this. Oh, fuck…have I just stripped out of my clothes like some stupid, na?ve little girl, assuming he’ll want me, when he’s not actually attracted to me like that at all?
No. No that’s just my paranoia talking. I know he wants me. I’ve felt him hard against me more than once now. He nearly just lost his shit when I was straddling him. So what the hell is his problem? I have to know, even if I’m afraid of what his answer might be. “Marcus? Why won’t you look at me?”
He swallows hard, his eyelids shuttering. “I can’t. You’re…”
“Hideous?” I laugh quietly. A little sadly.
“God, no. You’re so fucking beautiful. I don’t deserve to look at you.” He hesitates, and when he speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion. “I’m no good fucking trash, Betty. I’m nothing. I have no fucking business being here. I sure as hell have no right to look at you like that. I can’t do it. It feels like stealing something that doesn’t belong to me.”
I hear the truth ringing in each one of his words. Not my truth, but his. He really believes everything he’s just said, and it absolutely destroys me. I step forward, taking him by the hand, and I cautiously climb back onto his lap. Every nerve ending in my body is ringing like a bell. It’d be better if I could find something to cover up with first, but I need to perform immediate surgery on this broken man’s soul. He needs to know exactly how I feel about him.
“Look at me,” I demand. When he doesn’t, I place my hands on either side of his face, and I force him to. His eyes remain diligently locked on my face. “You are not trash. You’re not worthless. You’re brilliant, and you’re clever, and I’m the one who’s lucky to have you in my life. We come from different places, Marcus, but that doesn’t mean I’m better than you, or that you’re less than me. I want you because of the way you challenge me. I want you because of the way you make me feel alive. I want you because you make me feel free. You’re better than any painkiller. You’re better than any drug. You’re strong, and you’re resilient, and you take what’s yours. So take me, because everything that I am is yours, given freely, gladly and fucking proudly.”
His chest rises sharply. With infinite care, he rests his hands on my bare thighs, his pupils dilated wide open. He’s still wound so tight, I feel like he’s going to snap any second now. “I’m far from perfect. I need you,
Dolcezza. My hands are fucking aching for you. If I let my guard down for one fucking second,
I’m not gonna be proud of myself. If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop. If you tell me no, I’ll hear you, and I’ll fucking listen. But…if you don’t…I won’t be able to rein myself in. I’ll kiss you. I’ll touch you. I’ll make you fucking moan. I’ll sink myself so deep inside you, I won’t ever want to stop fucking you, and I can’t…”
My skin is on fire. My nipples are peaked so hard they’re actually hurting in the most delicious, dizzying way. The nervousness I felt before has gone now. The memories that have taunted me for so long are nowhere to be seen. All I can think of, all I can see, all I want, is Marcus. I kiss him, pressing my mouth down hard on his, fisting his hair in my hands.
He resists for a second. His fingers dig into my thighs, and he lets out a pained groan. The tight grip he’s been holding over himself shatters into a million pieces when I yank on his hair, though. His hands slide up my back, hot and firm, pulling me to him. His tongue plunges into my mouth, and he kisses me savagely.
I may be vastly inexperienced when it comes to sex, but my body thankfully knows what it wants. I grind myself into him, rocking my hips against him all over again, and I moan breathlessly as my breasts rub up against his chest. Marcus tears his mouth away, and the distant, hard edge in his eyes has disappeared, replaced by a vivid, urgent hunger that sends a hot surge of adrenalin through me. He looks at me, finally letting those impossibly dark eyes of his drop, skating down my body, and it’s almost too much to bear.
“Jesus, Betty,” he hisses. “You’re fucking incredible.” He cups my breasts in his hands, kneading my flesh, and a shudder travels through his body. I place my hands over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder, so I can fucking feel it, so that it’s almost painful, and he groans again. The sound of his pleasure makes me shake with anticipation.
I shouldn’t want to make him feel this way.
It shouldn’t feel so good to have his hands on my body.
I shouldn’t be so desperate for him that it feels like I’m about to ignite and catch on fire.
But I do.
He arches over me, leaning me back, holding me in his arms, and the next thing I’m aware of my nipple is in his mouth. He licks at the swollen, sensitive bud of flesh, then takes it into his mouth and sucks, and it feels like I’ve been struck by lightning, a bolt of heady pleasure firing between both my breasts, down in between my legs.
“Ahh! Holy shit!” I curve my body against him, winding my fingers into his hair, guiding his mouth down onto me, asking him for more, and Marcus delivers. His teeth graze against me, fastening around my nipple, and I immediately react, rocking myself against him, needing to somehow get closer.
I had no idea it would feel like this. I had no idea I could want someone so much…
I’m needy and desperate as I grab at his shirt, trying to remove it from his body. He pulls away, giving me an open-mouthed, slightly dazed smile as he helps pull the shirt over his head. His eyes are so damn intense, driving into me, scouring every inch of me as he grabs me by the waist, spinning me over and lowering me onto my back by the fire.
He stands, unfastening his belt and then his jeans, kicking out of them, removing his boxers all in one go. The air seems too thick to breathe for a second, as he looks down at me, and I look up at him with matching expressions of wonder on our faces. He’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. The swirling dark ink on his chest is beautiful. It travels up over his shoulders, down his arms, around his neck-too many patterns and images to take in right now.
His athlete’s physique has always been obvious even through his clothes but seeing him naked is something else entirely. His chest and stomach are ridiculously muscled, his abs tensed. The faint definition that cuts down into his groin, forming a vee shape, leads my eyes naturally down to his cock. He’s hard, standing to attention, bigger than I’ve imagined, the few times I’ve allowed myself to picture it. I swallow, a buzz of electricity pooling between my legs.
“Birth control?” he asks. “Do I need to get something?’
“No. No, I take the pill.”
Marcus takes himself in his hands, squeezing, and I suck my lip into my mouth again. “Don’t worry,” he says. “It won’t hurt. I’m gonna make sure of it. God, your body is…” He shakes his head, like he’s having troubling thinking straight. “You’re perfect in every way, Betty. Your tits are fucking mind-blowing. I can’t get enough of you.”
The feeling is more than mutual.
He crouches down, and I tense a little, even though I’m not scared. Not really. Marcus’s hands run up the insides of my thighs, reverently stroking over my skin. “Remember…just say the word and all of this stops.”