“Oh God,” she panted, arching further against him and digging her nails into his shoulders. “Maybe your mom wants you home because she knows you’re a bad boy.”
“I’m not the bad boy. That’s my brother,” he told her, switching to her other breast.
The sounds she made when he inflicted just the slightest amount of pain to her nipple sent his blood pressure through the roof. Her breasts were soft, the perfect size, so easy to bury his face in and enjoy their smooth roundness. Marc hadn’t tried to unclasp a lady’s bra without looking since high school, and at that time he’d considered himself a master of the art. A flash of pride rushed through him when he found the clasp in the middle of her back and unhooked it with one try.
Her hair wrapped around his fingers when he pulled the straps down her arms. As the lace fell free from her breasts, London created space between them, looking down at him with lust making her eyes glow.
“We have a serious problem here,” she informed him with a sultry whisper.
“What’s that?”
“You’re still dressed.”
She shrieked and laughed at the same time when he leapt off the couch, keeping her wrapped around him. London bounced when he dropped her on the couch. She recovered quickly, stretching out and relaxing one arm over her head as he began stripping.
“That’s it, bad boy,” she purred. “Give me a show.”
“You’re asking for it, lady.”
“Asking for it?” She cocked an eyebrow. “I thought I was being rather demanding.”
Marc made quick work of stripping out of his clothes, taking time to pull a condom out of his pants pocket, where he’d put it while waiting for her to come home, and dropped it on the coffee table. Her gaze shifted to it only for a moment before returning to his face. Her lips were parted and moist and her breath came hard enough that her tight tummy rose and fell. She dragged strands of hair away from her breast, exposing both of them and their hard, brown nipples. As he struggled with his boots, London pressed her hand flat over her stomach and slid her fingers into her jeans.
He’d never get out of his boots at this rate. There wasn’t any way he could move to her with his jeans half-off but stuck until he got rid of his shoes. Finally, yanking one off, then the other, Marc finished undressing. It was far from a show, but London’s flushed expression and glazed-over look on her face made it apparent she didn’t have any complaints.
“I rather like it when you’re demanding.” He moved around the coffee table and bent over her, grabbing her jeans at the waist and lifting her off the couch.
“Marc!” she squealed, grabbing his arms when he undid her button and pulled the zipper down.
She slapped her hands against the couch as he kept her lower half in the air and pulled her jeans off her. London helped, making scissor motions with her bare legs in the air when he peeled her jeans until they were inside out and tossed with her sweater in a pile. Once again she wore matching lace underwear. The view as he stood over her was enough to render him speechless.
London appeared to be a bit more in control. She licked her lips and slid her hand inside her panties, moving her fingers over her pussy.
“You wouldn’t believe how wet I am,” she said, and started squeezing her breast with her other hand. “And horny. So damn horny. Think you can help me out with that?”
“Why are you so horny?” he asked.
Her thick lashes hooded her gaze as she licked her lips again. “It might have been because I was thinking about you all the way home,” she whispered, shooting him a furtive glance before lowering her gaze to his cock. “I might add my imagination is very accurate.”
Marc reached for her, grabbing her legs and pinning them together with one hand. He shoved the coffee table out of the way when he went down on his knees on the side of the couch.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” he said, letting her legs rest against his shoulder and reaching for the straps of her panties. “What was it that you imagined?”
“You,” she admitted easily, although when she flashed him a smile it seemed almost shy. “And me,” she added, whispering.
London wasn’t shy. Marc guessed that letting him know she was thinking about him during the day was close enough to telling him this was going further than being friends with benefits.
“What were we doing?” he pressed, removing her underwear and taking her ankles in his hands. He spread her open and damn near forgot what he’d just asked her as he stared at the cream causing her shaved pussy to glisten.
“We were having incredible, mind-blowing sex,” she told him, that glimpse of shyness, or hesitation, fading and her cocky, ornery tone returning. “And you were doing this.”
When he moved in closer to her she reached for his head and pushed, encouraging him closer. Marc didn’t fight her. Her fingers massaged his scalp as he adjusted himself between her legs and breathed in her rich, intoxicating scent. When he kissed her clit she damn near came off the couch.
Marc gripped her legs, holding her down and keeping her from doing him bodily harm as he began licking the cream from her entrance. “How good did you imagine me to be?” he asked, regaining control of his thoughts and his actions when he held her in place and started enjoying her sweet, hot pussy.
“Hum, um,” she said, murmuring and whimpering.
The sounds she made were as hot as the rest of her. Marc enjoyed the view, staring up at her full, round breasts and her face. She pressed her teeth into her lower lip and closed her eyes, moaning her approval as her breath came hard and fast. He didn’t press the conversation, satisfied to feast and watch her orgasm build inside her.
London’s face was flushed. She turned her head from side to side, groaning as her breath caught more than once in her throat. Her black hair fell in thick strands over her bare shoulders and fanned around her face on the couch. She was gorgeous, beyond beautiful, inside and out. It terrified the crap out of him as thoughts began plaguing him on a more regular basis of making her his woman. There was the distance issue. But at the rate they were going, leaving her after a month would be damn near impossible to do. Already, after just under two weeks, every time he left her he counted the hours until he saw her again.
He didn’t want to dwell on their future. It turned playtime with her into something so much more serious. Marc had been with women before who were compelling, intelligent, and sexy, and he knew throughout every minute of their relationship that it would end. Breaking it off with a lady was always a bittersweet experience. He would mourn the loss of a good woman, sometimes get drunk over it, and enjoy the excitement of someone new when she came along. Not once had he ever considered turning anything into something more serious than fun dates and hot sex. And more than one woman had tried convincing him to do otherwise.
“Marc,” London said, yanking him out of his thoughts. “God. Marc!” she cried out.
It was enough notice to brace himself and hold her in place. Her dam broke as she lashed from side to side, digging her nails into his bare flesh and probably breaking skin as she cried out. He watched her come, drowned in her cream, and damn near came with her.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he told her, grabbing the condom and ripping it out of its package. He sheathed himself and climbed over her as she panted and grinned when she stared up at him.
“More,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Now, Marc. Please. Fuck me really hard and fast. Please.”
“I love it when you beg, sweetheart,” he said, bracing his arms on either side of her and kissing her tenderly.
She hummed into his mouth as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled him closer. When his cock found her entrance, the heat coming from her entrance burned him alive. His balls tightened painfully. As he entered her, her smooth, soaked flesh constricted around him, dragging him deep inside her.
“Hard, fast,” she panted, repeating the words in his ear and dragging her nails down his back.
Marc obliged, taki
ng her and giving her all he had.
“I love it,” she said, her voice raspy.
For a moment he thought he heard wrong. Thinking she’d just told him she loved him wasn’t half as terrifying as the fact that the words slipped to his tongue and he almost said them out loud. It tripped him up and for a moment he lost his rhythm. His cock didn’t go soft, though. The craving he had for her didn’t fade. If anything, as he swallowed those three little words he’d almost said out loud his need for her grew tenfold. They wouldn’t take this relationship to that level. He wouldn’t allow it.
For a moment Marc experienced a lightheadedness that bugged the crap out of him. Not because he worried he wasn’t giving her what she wanted physically. He picked up the pace quickly. Her gasps grew louder as she came again, soaking his balls and creating even more heat that helped push him to the edge. As he came, releasing and feeling his heart hammer against his chest, he experienced the overwhelming realization that feelings for London existed and they went far beyond lust.
Chapter Six
Marc stepped out of the steamy bathroom, wondering what London might think of him leaving a change of clothes at her house. He’d donned his jeans but opted not to put his shirt back on. Walking barefoot into her living room, he joined her on the couch, where she sat curled in the corner, wearing an extra-large T-shirt, although definitely not big enough for him. It fell past her thighs, and her bare legs and feet were tucked underneath her.
“The snow is coming down really hard,” she said, nodding at the weather report on the TV.
“Are you inviting me to stay the night?” He unfolded an afghan that was on the back of her chair as he sat next to her.
London helped spread it open and covered her legs before relaxing against him. “It would probably be a good idea. Knowing you, I’d end up having to get dressed and pull you out of a ditch before you made it to the lodge.”
“Are you cool with me staying?” he asked seriously. “If we’re discussing safety, I’m sure I could make it to a motel here in town.”
She leaned her head against his chest and relaxed further as he pulled her against him and cradled her in his arms. London relaxed her head against his arm and stared up at him.
“I guess you could sleep on the couch,” she said slowly.
“Is that where you want me to sleep?”
She studied him with her pretty black eyes. “No,” she said after a moment. “I want you in bed with me.”
London adjusted herself, shifting to watch TV. A few minutes later her breathing slowed, and when his phone rang she didn’t move. Marc managed to get it off the coffee table without waking her.
Glancing at the number, he answered, “Hello.”
“I just remembered it’s an hour later there as the phone was ringing,” Jake said. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“You didn’t wake anyone,” Marc said, keeping his voice quiet as he gently stroked London’s hair. She moaned softly, stretched under the afghan, and remained relaxed with her head on his lap.
“Dad and Mom told you about the action figures we found in the truck?” his brother asked.
“Yeah, I heard about it.”
“I heard you got a similar gift. Is your lady hot?”
He remembered damn near suffocating inside her soaked pussy. “Yeah, she is,” he admitted, unable to see enough of her face to tell if her eyes were opened or not. “Did you call to get a rundown?”
“You can fill me in on all of the nasty details later. I need to talk to you. Is this a good time?” The serious edge in Jake’s tone made it clear he wasn’t calling for girlfriend advice. Not that any of the women Jake saw ever got far enough to rate the label. Jake played them and left them. Maybe Marc should ask how Jake always kept it casual.
“What’s wrong?” Marc asked, doubting any advice his brother might offer on how to enjoy everything a woman offered without losing his heart would sit well with him.
“They told you about the pictures we received of them while they were on that cruise, right?”
“Yeah.”
“More pictures came earlier tonight. I was the only one here. They were packaged the same as the others, looked like they came through the mail.”
“What do you mean they looked like they came through the mail?” Marc thought of the package he’d found on London’s porch floor. There was no return address, yet it had postage on it. Her mailbox was at the top of her porch steps. It didn’t make sense that the package wasn’t in the mailbox but instead on the porch floor.
“There were stamps and it’s gone through the mail, but it wasn’t in the mailbox.”
“What were the pictures of?” He stared at London’s profile, her face tilted toward his jeans and her hair flowing down her back. She didn’t move when he ran his hand down the back of her head, but her breathing was quieter than it had been. If she was listening she apparently didn’t want to interrupt his conversation.
“Man, they were of Mom and Natasha. Shots of them in parking lots and also in the mall. They were taken while they were out shopping. I remember Mom was wearing the blouse she had on in the pictures. Someone is following her around and it’s really starting to piss me off.”
Marc lifted his gaze, staring at the wall across the room, and fought for a calming breath. He felt the rage surge to life in him, causing all his muscles to tighten as he fought to remain on the couch and stay cool. He exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Okay, let’s talk this through,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment and forcing the frustration growing inside him to calm. He understood Jake’s anger. They’d lost their mom once, and now that she was back no one would ever take her from them again. “Who was it addressed to?” Marc asked, wanting all the details.
“It just says ‘Kings’ and then our home address. The mailing address is handwritten, kind of a flowing cursive, like a lady wrote it. It’s the same handwriting used on the first package.”
“They want you to know they’re coming from the same person,” Marc guessed.
“What I was thinking,” Jake agreed. “They’re using a black Sharpie, or some kind of pen like that. Both sets of pictures were sent in a large manila envelope, and instead of licking the seal closed they used a piece of clear tape.” He spoke as if he was examining the package while describing it.
“So we can conclude they’re coming from the same person. What about the stamps?”
“Not much to say. They aren’t individual stamps but a postage stamp, as if they mailed it from their post office.”
“But no return address?”
“Nope.”
Marc’s entire body ached as if he’d had his muscles clenched for hours instead of a few minutes. “And all that’s in the envelope are the pictures?” He needed to see them. There were other things they could tell, possibly how close whoever took the pictures was to Mom and Natasha, the quality of the shots. The brothers needed to rule out the possibility of Photoshop.
God, maybe he should end his vacation early. It might save his heart if he and London parted ways sooner rather than later. She was getting attached to him, too. They would start something neither of them could finish and it wasn’t right, or fair, to either of them. Not to mention, if Mom or any of his family was in danger, he needed to be there to protect them.
“Not this time,” Jake said.
“Huh?” Marc blinked, shoving his thoughts out of his head before he made a final decision.
“There was a note. It said: ‘Say good-bye to your mother and father. You’re never going to see them again.’”
Marc almost leapt off the couch.
“What’s wrong?” London murmured, shifting against him and slowly pushing herself to a sitting position. Her eyes looked sleepy and her hair was tousled around her face. She was so damn beautiful and at the moment appeared rather confused. Apparently she had been asleep, which was a good thing.
“Nothing. Sorry,” he said, standing and walkin
g around the coffee table.
“You aren’t alone?” Jake asked. “Wait. Isn’t it almost midnight out there? Damn, Bro, it’s not like you to keep them hanging around like that.” Jake’s usual playful tone was gone. He might have had more time to allow the meaning behind the message sent with the pictures to sink in, but he was obviously upset enough about it to call Marc.
“I’m with London,” Marc told Jake.
“Who are you talking to?” London asked.
“My brother, Jake.”
“God, she sounds hot as hell,” Jake said.
“She is,” Marc said. “I’ll get back with you on all of this,” he added. “Keep me posted and I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“Man, you need to come home,” Jake said.
“I know.” He stared at London, wishing more than anything he could keep her in his life.
“Now is not the right time to get hung up on some chick,” his brother snapped.
Marc hung up on him. Anything that came out of his mouth at that moment would let Jake know where Marc’s feelings were headed, and he didn’t need his brother’s shit. Also, London was staring at him, with a confused, adorable sleepy expression on her face. He wouldn’t worry or upset her, not when their night had been going so perfectly.
Putting his phone back on the coffee table, he bent down for the rest of his clothes.
“What are you doing?” she asked, combing her hair away from her face with her fingers.
“I’d forgotten,” he began. “When I first got here there was a package for you. It was on the floor of your porch, and so I put it in your mailbox. I didn’t remember until now and figured I would get it for you.”
London almost flew off the couch. “You don’t need to go get it,” she said, blocking him from grabbing his boots. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to get dressed and go out there where it’s freezing. It will still be there in the morning.”
Get Lucky Page 11
