“Tell me.”

“I don’t care tonight.”

His face changed at that. He wasn’t looking at me as a passing amusement that would be scared off when the time arrived. No, he was staring at me like he was hungry for a taste, and the tension that arose from that was incredibly satisfying.

“Come here,” he quietly demanded, motioning for me to get closer.

I grabbed at the chair and made to move when he shook his head and said, “No, babe. I’m not talking about you getting closer in that chair. I’m talking about that body of yours. Bring it over.”

I fought to keep my composure, but inside my heart was thundering inside my chest, and I was tingling everywhere. I moved to him and he settled a hand on my waist, settling me over his legs so that I was sitting astride him. I was barely breathing, facing him as he stared back at me with both hands lightly touching my thighs. He kept it tame, but the position was far from it. It was actually the most intimate thing I’d ever done with a guy, sitting in his lap, facing him as we took each other in, completely disregarding the noise and crowd of people. I wondered how that was possible. I’d had sex with two guys, had made out and cuddled, but for some reason, this trumped it all.

But that was Marcus Borden for you. I would soon learn I’d never feel the same heat with another man.

“Is this alright for you?” he curiously asked, studying me intently.

“Yes,” I answered, feeling drawn to his mouth.

“You like this?”

My next yes came out sounding quieter.

I sat like that for a while, and we didn’t talk a lot. Just light little questions he’d ask, glazing over music and movies, anything to fill the quiet, but not even the quiet bothered me. We were in our own little bubble, and it didn’t take long for me to feel completely comfortable in his embrace, like that was where I belonged.

“Still alright?” he’d ask me when his hands roamed my thighs a little. “Not pushing my boundaries?”

“No,” I’d answer. “I like this.”

He was incredibly sweet, and attentive. He brought me closer throughout, until he was inches away from my mouth, but never going all the way. Never kissing me, never raising his hands high enough to touch my ass. It was both sweet and painful.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” he muttered, more to himself than me. None of it sounded like he was trying to butter me up, either. He seemed genuinely in awe of my beauty, and right there, I melted in his grip, smiling brilliantly at him while he smiled back thoughtfully.

I felt everything sitting on him like that. Felt the deep ache between my legs, felt my lust form at his exposed upper body, felt him at times hardening beneath me as his eyes travelled around my body, taking me in just as much as I was him.

Then, after an uncertain amount of time passed, he slowly rose to his feet and began to set me down. He kept the contact as he did so, and I felt my apex brush against his stomach and groin, and pleasure formed as he did so. He had me standing on my own and I was lightheaded as I watched him grab his white tee that was slung over the plastic chair.

“You had much to drink, Kate?” he asked, throwing it on.

“A couple beers,” I answered.

“You’re not drunk?”

“No.”

He nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

Then he extended his hand out to me. My heart hammered inside my chest as I stared at it and then at the tattoos snaking up his arm. Oh, God, was this really happening? I stopped thinking and took his hand with my own, its warmth so deliciously good against my skin. He pulled me closer to him and brushed the blonde strands of my hair out of my face and behind my ear.

“I’ll give you a thrill,” he whispered down to me. “And it’ll be good. I’m going to take care of you and make sure of that.”

His voice sounded so certain, and that confidence was sexy as hell in a man.

Instantly, I believed him.

Two

Marcus

If someone told him he’d get laid tonight, he would have tried not to look like a fucking homeless person, especially to a girl of Kate’s standards. He would have looked his best, or at least, the best he could afford with what little he had.

Why the girl wanted him in the first place was perplexing to him, but he wasn’t about to question the gods on this one. He was going to venture down that rabbit hole with arms wide open.

With one hand wrapped in hers, he opened the door of his tiny apartment with the other and led her into the darkness. He hit the light switch of his living room, but the bulb crackled.

“Fuck,” he cursed quietly.

“What?” she asked behind him.

“Light’s out.” Of course it fucking was. Hell, maybe that was a good thing. She wouldn’t see the ratty couch in all its ratty glory, or the boxes of leftover pizza from yesterday on his chipped coffee table.

“Where’s your bedroom?” she wondered.

“I just moved in. Haven’t gotten that room up to shape yet.”

Fucking liar.

He’d moved into this place six months ago, and his bedroom consisted of very little. Thanks, poverty, you little shitl.

“Then we’ll just have to make do,” she said, her voice quivering a little at the end.

He turned to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to his front, until her breasts were pressed against him. He felt her shake as he delicately moved the strands of her beautiful blonde hair out of her face. She looked like she wanted this. She didn’t give a fuck about his place, and it warmed him a little. He leaned down and gently kissed along her jawline just below her ear. Fuck, she smelled good, like jasmine and rose.

“I’m not going to pressure you into anything,” he whispered, feeling how tight with nerves she was. “You do what you’re comfortable with.”

Her breathing picked up. “I want this.”

He resumed his kisses, feather light ones before reaching her mouth. She had beautiful thin lips, soft and red from her lipstick. He’d never look at another red lipped mouth the same way again without thinking of her.

He kissed her slowly, softly, and her entire body froze at the contact. She parted her mouth and kissed him back. She made light little noises at the back of her throat. He ran his hands down her smooth arms, covered in goose bumps. She was eager, pressing her mouth harder against his. Her lips were soft, supple, but that fucking tongue unravelled him the second it slid against his. He led her to the couch, dropping her down slowly with an arm wrapped around her.