Filed to story: Brace Face Betty Drama Story
Carefully, he begins to rock against me, and the strange pressure inside me starts to lessen as my body learns how to move with him. Marcus presses his lips against my forehead, my temple, my jaw. When he eventually uses his teeth against the sensitive skin of my neck, the feel of him inside me begins to change into something else entirely: the pressure evaporates altogether, and it begins to feel good.
“Ahh, fuck! Marcus!”
He bites down harder, and I tangle my arms around him, wrapping my legs around his waist tighter, clinging onto him as fiercely as I can.
“You ready for more?” he growls into my hair.
“Yes! Yes. God, yes
…” I don’t sound like myself. I sound like someone else as I writhe underneath him. Marcus gives me what I want, pulling back just enough so that he can angle his hips back and thrust them forward, driving himself into me.
Oh god…
What the hell…?
I let my eyes roll closed for a second, but they snap open again when the feeling intensifies, and I realize Marcus is touching my clit. Looking down the length of my body, I see his hand is between my legs, and he’s using his thumb to rub at me. I shudder, not knowing how the hell to process the sheer volume of sensation.
“Good?” Marcus asks raggedly.
“Y
–
yes.”
“Good.” He quickens his pace, sliding all the way out of me this time and pushing forward a little harder. His eyes are all over me-my face, my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. His gaze pauses on the point where our bodies meet, between my legs, and the muscles in his jaw pop as he clenches his teeth. “Fuck. Watching you take me, Betty… You rocking against me… Your pussy…”
Lust, raw and demanding, digs its claws into me. I see a mirror of that emotion in Marcus, and the look on his face sends me spiraling toward madness. I need him. I have to fucking have him. I grab hold of his other hand, sucking his thumb into my mouth, and Marcus hisses. “Shit. Careful, Dolcezza.”
I know why he’s warning me. His movements are quickening, he’s thrusting harder and faster, and I know what’ll happen soon if we don’t stop. There are plenty of days ahead to tease ourselves, though. Plenty of opportunity to stretch this out and make it last. Right now, the fire burning in my belly is raging out of control, and I don’t want to put it out. The intense feeling that shook me so violently when Marcus went down on me has returned, and I’m about to tumble over the edge all over again.
I want him to tumble with me.
I want to know what that feels like.
I lock my legs around his hips, biting down on his thumb, and I witness the moment Marcus gives himself over to it. His eyes flash, and then he’s falling on top of me, crushing me to him, driving himself deeper and deeper, faster and faster…
“Shit. I’m going to…I’m gonna fucking…”
“Come. Fucking come, Betty,” he snarls into my ear. “Do it right now. I wanna feel you throbbing around my dick.”
All it takes is his command. I hurtle headfirst into my climax, unable to breathe, unable to make a sound as an explosion of pleasure hits me with the force of a ten-ton truck. My back bows, and Marcus holds onto me as I ride out the wave. Then he’s roaring, the muscles in his arms straining, and he’s coming too, crushing the life out of me as we move against one another.
It seems as though it takes a long time to come down from the high. Eventually, though, when we can breathe again, Marcus rolls onto his side and then onto his back, pulling me with him. I lie on his chest, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow, and the feeling of his hand as he lazily strokes my hair is almost hypnotic.
“Is this the part where you pretend you’re late for something, make your excuses and you leave?” I whisper.
Marcus huffs out a shallow, soft burst of laughter. “No,
Dolcezza. This is the part when I realize you’ve stolen my fucking soul and I have no chance of ever getting it back.”
I laugh, too. “So, not leaving then.”
“Nope.”
I trace my fingers over his chest, following the lines of his tattoos, enjoying the warmth of the fire on my own skin. His torso is covered in ink, a large shield-like design spanning across his pecs, following the line of his collar bone. Sweeping down over his side, the top of his shoulder and down his left arm, a long, scaled body of a creature winds, convincing and lifelike. Sharp thorny vines wind intricately from his right arm, around his neck, down across his stomach, weaving in between what looks like a woman on her knees, praying.
“I promised you the nickel tour, didn’t I?” he asks softly. “I suppose now’s as good a time as any. Come on.” I don’t want to get up. This moment is far too perfect, but Marcus seems intent as he gets up, holding out his hand to help me to my feet. By the window, he displays his hands palm-down, showing me the wolf and the rose inked there. “This is me,” he says, indicating to the wolf. “And this is my mom. All of the roses are for her.” He’s given her his right hand, as well as his entire right arm. “She was soft, like flowers. Beautiful.” He runs his own fingers over the vines, his eyes distant. “She had her sharp edges, too, though. Her own demons that plagued her.”