Marked

by Kit Rocha

  They came back to life here, now, as her hand trembled in his. "Hang on. I'll get the light." Any excuse to pull free so he couldn't feel her shaking.

  She flicked on the lamp closest to the door, and it flooded the room with a low, gentle glow. She watched as Noah looked around, his gaze jumping from one object to another as if building a mental catalog before sweeping upward.

  He smiled. "Your ceiling's blue."

  The first thing she always did was paint her ceiling. "I like it that way."

  "I remember," he murmured, still staring. "One year Cib and I damn near took the sector apart before your birthday, trying to find enough blue paint to get the job done, but my contact fell through. Good thing I found those pencils at the last minute."

  He'd also found someone to make her a pad of sketch paper, the thick kind with the fibers she could still feel under her fingertips. But the charcoal pencils--that had been the prize. Not the bits of burned wood she normally used, but real pencils of varying hardness, wrapped in slick paper with a thread on the side she could pull when she needed to peel more away.

  Her eighteenth birthday. It had been a time of jubilant celebration, the three of them so happy, completely oblivious to the fact that, within a single short year, her brother would be dead.

  She swallowed hard. "I still have them, you know. The pencils. They're just nubs now." And she could never bring herself to use up that last bit of charcoal.

  His gaze dropped back to her body, tracing the edges of one of her tattoos. "I guess you found a new way to make art."

  "I didn't do any of these." Emma reached down to trace the vine of roses climbing the outside of her right thigh. "I designed this one, though."

  Noah crouched in front of her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath as his fingertip followed after hers. "It's beautiful."

  So close. She sank her fingers into his hair and pulled. He smiled and kept touching her, curling his hand around the back of her thigh to slide down to her knee and up again.

  Emma let go of him and untied another ribbon on her panties as she backed slowly toward the bed. "Is this a little more your speed? All alone instead of surrounded by people?"

  He shrugged. "I'm sure it's more fun when you're one of them and you know the rules. But even if I wanted to, I'm not stupid enough to get too friendly with a woman who belongs to Dallas O'Kane or Jasper McCray."

  "Lex doesn't belong to Dallas--they belong to each other. Same with Jas and Noelle."

  He paused and tilted his head to one side. "That's always been the talk, but when you've lived in a place like Five, you wonder how much is just that--talk."

  "Mmm." All the more reason for him to stick around and see for himself. But Emma held her tongue and forgot all about it when the backs of her legs hit her bed. She dropped her panties and sank to the mattress.

  Holding her gaze, Noah rose and gripped the hem of his shirt, teasing her with the possibility of bare skin. "Does your room have rules?"

  Her palms itched to explore, and she curled her hands into fists at her sides. "Just the same ones we have everywhere else. If everybody says yes, anything goes."

  His arms flexed as he hauled his shirt over his head and let it fall. "Then touch me."

  Touch him? He may as well have asked her to touch some priceless pre-Flare sculpture. The lines were the same, chiseled and perfect, but carved from muscle instead of stone. Alive and responsive.

  Emma came to her knees. She traced the hard swell of one pectoral, grazed his nipple, and molded her hand to his shoulder. "You're beautiful." His skin was bare, unadorned, but she could already see the art beneath it, the places where she'd lay ink.

  His head tilted back, and he swallowed. "I'm out of practice," he said roughly. "I haven't had a lot of time for...affection lately."

  "No?" That was a shame. A body like his should be celebrated--tasted and stroked and licked and sketched, committed to memory in every sense that existed.

  He choked on a laugh and lifted a hand to cover hers. "I live in an underground bunker. Not a lot of guests."

  "Ah." Emma let her fingers roam, following the trail of hair that narrowed over his stomach and disappeared into his jeans. She unbuckled his belt slowly, giving him time to stop her.

  His breathing sped, but he didn't move until she'd tugged open the button on his fly and was reaching for the zipper. He closed his hand around her wrist, fingers big and broad but careful. "I keep waiting for you to disappear. Nothing I want this much could be real."

  As if she had to be some kind of dream. Emma's cheeks heated. "I'm not going anywhere, Noah." She tugged her hand free and pulled his zipper down, the soft rasp shivering up her spine. "I'm right where I want to be."

  "I know." The words held an edge of sadness, but he covered it in the next moment by sliding his fingers deep into her hair. "I don't know if I have the willpower to let you put your mouth on me. I won't last, not tonight."

  It was intoxicating, the thought that he could want her that hard, that much. "So? Come in my mouth, and then show me all the things you've wanted to do to me."

  Noah groaned, his fingers tightening until her scalp tingled. "That is a filthy fucking suggestion."

  "Delicate O'Kanes don't exist." Emma settled to the mattress, easing his pants down as she went. His cock sprang free, erect and eager, and she took a moment to explore its hard, satiny length.

  Shuddering, he folded his hand over hers again, trapping it as he tugged at her hair. "I like filthy."

  "Like?" She fisted her hand around him and leaned in until she could just barely touch her tongue to the crown of his cock.

  He hissed as his hips jerked, shoving between her lips before he bit off a curse and pulled back. "Fucking hell, sunshine."

  An old nickname, ancient. He was the only person who'd ever looked at her and seen that kind of warmth, and hearing the endearment on his lips left her hungry for so much more. "Don't stop." She laid her free hand on his hip and let her fingertips bite into the hard muscle. "Show me what you want."

  "I want--" He bared his teeth and hauled her up by her hair, sparking tingles along her scalp.

  Then his mouth crashed into hers.

  No, those sheltered fantasies couldn't compare. Noah had always been so careful with her, so she wasn't prepared for this--rough kisses and desire edged with pain. Need, the kind you didn't have a hope in hell of containing, much less controlling.

  Emma whimpered as a rush of heat flooded her, left her so wet and aroused that every shifting movement sparked more heat, a never-ending cycle with Noah's mouth at the center of it.

  His tongue slicked over hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he hoisted her from the bed only to spill her to her back. He loomed over her, wedging his body between her legs so that the base of his cock rubbed against her pussy.

  He could have slammed into her then. She was wet enough, hot enough, but he slid one hand to her hip and held her steady as he kissed her harder, rougher, deeper. His teeth grazed her lip and he growled, rolling his hips to slick his shaft against her clit as his tongue found hers again.

  Please. She swallowed the word, along with the taste of him. She'd asked what he wanted, and this was it--she felt that in every trembling line of his body. He wanted to get her off, make her come, and then, then he'd fuck her.

  "My pleasure," she whispered against his mouth, and arched her hips to meet his next slippery grind.

  He bit her lip again, tugging at it with his teeth for a shivering heartbeat before his mouth shifted to her ear. "Is that a piercing I feel?"

  It took her a second to make sense of the words, even though every flex of his hips bumped the end of the metal barbell into her clit, sending electric shocks rocketing through her. "Uh-huh," she managed. "Wanna see?"

  He laughed, low and hot, and thrust against her with a slow, circular grind that left her gritting her teeth to hold back a cry. "Later. I'll get my tongue all over it."

  "Tease." His eyes were
so blue, deeper than the sky but not as dark as ink. She'd never seen the ocean, but maybe it was like this, like tumbling down until all you could feel was--

  Holding on to his shoulders didn't give her enough leverage. She dropped her hands to the small of his back, to the swell of his ass, and swiveled her hips. Pleasure splintered through her at the directness of the contact, at the way he groaned encouragement and watched her face as if he'd never seen anything more perfect.

  "Just like that," he whispered hoarsely, mirroring her movement with perfect precision. "Show me what gets you off."

  Just like that. The words echoed in the buzz in her ears. His voice, rasping and hungry. Sunshine. Her pulse throbbed, hot and low, as she rocked her clit against his cock. Show me.

  She never came this fast, even with her piercing. But having Noah hard against her--starving but so focused on her, rough but so fucking careful--drove her over the edge. The twisting tension crashed in on her, dragging a cry from her throat and curling her toes as she rode her orgasm.

  He cupped her face as she stilled, his thumbs rubbing back and forth along her cheek with a gentleness that softened the harsh need in his eyes. "I want to fuck you so damn hard."

  The combination of tenderness and lust undid her. Deep. Now. She pushed at his shoulders, lifted her body, and angled her hips until the head of his cock nudged between her pussy lips. "Take it, Noah." The strangled plea sounded far away, like it hadn't come from her lips. "Fucking take it."

  One strong hand curled beneath her knee, shoving her thighs wide. "Is that what you need? Hard?"

  She needed to know he was real, not some leftover remnant of childish fantasy. That he was with her. "I need you."

  He gripped his cock, the muscles in his arms tense and trembling. He stroked the crown between her pussy lips and up, slicking it over her clit, bumping against her piercing. "How? Say it."

  Emma grasped the bedspread. "Fast," she whispered, pinned in place by his fierce gaze. "I want you to ride me, and I want it rough."

  Noah positioned his cock and drove forward with one desperate thrust. He was even bigger than he looked, thick and so damn hard, pressing into her, stretching her. He didn't just fill her--he invaded her, marking her as his from the inside out. But it felt as much like submission as it did dominance, like he was giving in to the fire between them. Like he knew her pleasure was incomplete without his.

  Breathtaking. She'd heard the word, used it, but never felt it as viscerally as this.

  And then he was over her, hands planted on either side of her head as he thrust again, hard enough to make the sound of their hips slapping together audible in spite of his satisfied groan. "Do you have any fucking idea how good you feel?"

  "No." The word spilled out on a moan as her brain scrambled to catch up with the ready heat flooding her body.

  His voice lowered to a rasp as he rolled into her again, driving deep. "Do you want me to tell you? Do you like dirty words as much as you like hard fucking?"

  She barely managed a pleading whimper. She didn't usually give a damn about words, dirty or not, but the way Noah wrapped his voice around every filthy syllable left her clenching in anticipation.

  And that was the first word he whispered, wreathing it in fervent approval. "Clenching. Soft. Slick, because you already came all over me."

  "Noah." When she lifted her legs higher, gripping his sides, the head of his cock hit her G-spot with his next thrust, and her whimpers gave way to begging. "I need it fast, please--"

  He hooked one hand under her knee, forcing her calf up to his shoulder as he quickened his pace. Noah had always been smart, but now she could see the calculation in his eyes as he made minute adjustments in their positions until he was riding hard right on the spot she needed.

  Her lungs burned, but oxygen had never been so unimportant. All that mattered was his dick, the unrelenting, slamming thrusts--and the way he whispered her name, almost as if he didn't even know he was doing it. As if his breath itself carried her.

  That tantalizing danger lurking beneath the surface broke free. It wasn't just in his eyes anymore. His face twisted into an expression of naked hunger, jaw clenched, brow furrowed. His body loomed large above hers, muscles bunching and flexing with his unrelenting rhythm. The smiling, gentle man she'd known was gone, swept away by this dangerous stranger who fucked her like he wanted to turn her world inside-out.

  Like he wanted to own her.

  Emma bit back a shriek as the mounting pleasure crested, sudden and inescapable. Gripping the covers wasn't enough to keep her from spinning away, so she grabbed on to Noah. His skin burned, and it wreathed her in a satisfaction almost as visceral as the pounding, twisting bliss.

  That bliss melted into a different kind of need as he groaned wordless approval. The need to show him every moment of her orgasm, to reflect it back until it took him, too.

  She scratched him, her nails digging furrows into his sweat-slicked chest. "Come in me."

  His pace faltered as his eyes narrowed. "Say it again."

  "You heard me." She dragged her fingernails down his side, to his hipbone. "I want you to come inside me."

  "Dirty," he growled before pushing upright. He pinned her in place with one hand on her thigh and splayed the other across her belly with his thumb hovering just above her clit. That was all the time she had to prepare before he slammed forward, wilder than before. No more carefully calculated thrusts chasing her pleasure. He was riding her, driving into her, chasing his own and demanding she get off on it.

  He nudged her piercing, a quick flick that ricocheted through her like a shot. He held her trapped, at his mercy, and Christ, she could get addicted to this.

  She couldn't get closer, and she couldn't get away, so Emma closed her eyes and let go, let him drive her higher, until the shuddering passion felt like part of her and Noah, like something that would never stop.

  His fingers bit into skin as he came, a delicious slice of pain bursting through the ecstasy, and he clutched her long after his desperate rhythm stilled.

  Emma lay there, frozen, as if the slightest movement could shatter the moment. She whispered his name instead, and he stretched out over her, his weight pushing her into the mattress as he caught her mouth in a lazy kiss.

  She pushed at his shoulders. He rolled over, taking her with him, never breaking the kiss. So Emma finally did, resting her forehead against his with a sigh.

  Noah gathered her disheveled hair with gentle fingers and swept it away from their faces. "Hey."

  "Hey." A laugh bubbled up, and she let it. "Is this where things get awkward?"

  His lips twitched into a half-smile. "Only if you didn't like it."

  "I didn't like it." She brushed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I loved it. I want to do it again."

  This time he laughed, running a hand down her spine to cup her ass. "Good. I made some mental notes for refining my technique."

  "I bet." Emma slid to the bed beside him and propped her head on her hand. "Don't you ever get tired of thinking?"

  He turned his head to study her, his brow furrowing. "No, the thinking isn't the problem. It's never having anything good to think about."

  "All the more reason to stay, isn't it?" He could ease up on his obsession with Mac Fleming, replace some of those violent thoughts with more pleasant ones. "Cib wouldn't have wanted you to live like this."

  The line between his eyebrows deepened as his lips tugged into a frown. "Staying might not be as easy as you think. O'Kane wants my skills, but he may not like my baggage."

  "What, your vendetta against Fleming?" Emma sat up with a snort. "I doubt it'd bother Dallas. He hates him even more than you do."

  "Emma." His voice was serious, and so was his expression as he caught her arm and tugged her back down. He lifted himself on one elbow and framed her face with one hand, his thumb a firm pressure on her chin. "You need to take what I'm about to say seriously, okay? Promise me."

  She tried to look away, but he
wouldn't let her. "I promise."

  "Mac Fleming wants me under his thumb or dead, whichever he can get." Noah closed his eyes. "I doubt he'll risk pissing off O'Kane by snatching a woman who wears his ink. That's the only reason I'm still here at all."

  She, of all people, knew what a deadly bastard Mac Fleming could be. Memories she'd tried to repress bubbled up in bits and pieces--low, tense arguments, fear, the scent of blood and terrible, terrible silence. Of all the things her older brother had fought so damn hard to shield her from, the reality of life in Sector Five topped the list. The reality of Mac Fleming.

  Her hand had started to shake, so she laid it on Noah's cheek. "He can't get to you here. And he doesn't know anything about you and me."

  His jaw clenched under her fingers. "He could figure out that you're Cib's little sister."

  She could barely think about her brother without pain, especially alongside such a harsh reminder of his bloody fate. "What does he care? Whatever problems they had died with Cib."

  "He doesn't care, not about that," Noah said roughly. He opened his eyes, and they were dark again, almost blank. "But if he knows that, he'll know he can use you to get to me."

  No warmth now, nothing but that flat lack of emotion. Emma shivered. "I don't know why I feel like I should apologize to you. I haven't done a damn thing wrong, except maybe exist."

  "No, it's not--" He groaned and rolled away, covering his face with one hand. "It's not about me. You haven't done anything wrong, which is why I don't want you paying for my sins. Or Cib's."

  "Then what do you want from me?"

  "I want you to be safe. Happy."

  And, as far as he was concerned, neither of those things could include him.

  Emma reached for her robe and shrugged into it. "I'm both. You don't have to worry about me, Noah."

  He moved fast, coming to his feet and catching her around the waist. Her back slammed against his chest, which felt as hard and unyielding as a brick wall as he lifted one hand to curl around her throat. "Don't do that. Don't make the mistake of calling what's inside me worry. Good men worry. Men like me take care of the problem."