Thirty Days: Part Two

by Belle Brooks

  “No.” His voice goes hoarse.

  “I’m a big girl. I make my own decisions, and right now, Marcus Klein, I want you to man up and take me in the way you used to do. Not because I’m drunk, not because I’m pretty sure I just gatecrashed a pre wedding celebration, but because I want you inside me, loving me, wanting me. I need you to want me, Marcus.”

  “I do want you.” His lips now rest only an inch from mine as he finally allows himself to embrace me.

  “Then take what’s yours.”

  “I can’t.” Reaching to the back of his neck, he clutches my wrists and removes my hold. “You need to get some sleep.”

  Never one to give in, I unclip the hook located at the front of my strapless bra, exposing my breasts.

  “Abigail—” No more words follow as his eyes sparkle, and I slip my underwear from my hips, allowing them to fall to the floor. Taking his hand, I brush it down my side before leading it between my legs. “Are you sure? I won’t ask you again.” He groans as tension leaks from his shoulders and his lips hover pinched over mine.

  “You’ve always been so damn persuasive.”

  “Ah huh,” I moan before he relaxes his mouth and our lips crash hard together.

  He takes little time to explore me. “You’re ready for me,” he groans against my mouth.

  “I’m always going to be ready for you.”

  With that, I’m gathered in his arms before I’m pushed down onto the bed.

  Marcus hovers above me as he pulls his shirt over his head with one hand. His dark eyes fill with wicked intent as its flung away, causing my breath to hitch high in my throat.

  “Just like we used to do, hey?”

  “Yes.” My answer is barely audible.

  He smiles that sexy as fuck smile before his mouth devours my breast, causing my head to tip back, his tongue swirling against my skin. Each kiss is feather light as they’re placed down my torso, stopping between my legs.

  “Oh, my!” I call out as he takes his time exploring me with his mouth in ways I never knew one could be explored. My back arches and my toes curl as I succumb to the release I’d worked so hard persuading him to give me. When my eyes finally open, I gasp.

  “Are you ready?” he asks, holding the belt from his jeans in front of his naked body.

  “Yes,” I reply, unsure of what he plans to do with it.

  “Good.” Climbing in between my legs, he takes each of my hands and binds them together above my head. Positioning himself, his eyes glaze over as he launches forward, entering me deeply in one motion. My breath stutters as my teeth clamp my lip. Using his hands to hold mine in place, he lets his tongue remove my bite hold before kissing me. “You’re mine, Abigail,” he breathes before pushing hard into me once more.

  “Marcus.”

  He groans before nipping my lip.

  I instantly taste blood and find myself turned on even more. I like it rough, since when, with Marcus? I must have a look of shock on my face because Marcus chuckles.

  “More?” he asks.

  “Yes, more.”

  “I thought so.” His gaze gleams as he brushes his hand against my cheek, thrusting into me again.

  “Oh shit!” I cry out.

  “More?” His wicked smile has me spellbound.

  “Yes.”

  He thrusts again.

  “More,” I cry out.

  He grins before letting go of my arms and sliding his hand behind my neck.

  “Stay with me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Every hard thrust causes my mind to become fuzzy, my toes to curl tight, and my head to stay permanently tilted as Marcus’ head rests against my neck.

  “I can’t hold on.”

  “Stay with me.” He groans as stars sparkle behind my closed eyes.

  “Marcus.” My body shudders.

  “Abigail.”

  I hear a primal deliverance of my name from his lips as we get lost in our release together.

  “Forever mine,” he breathes.

  “Forever.”

  Lying in the crook of Marcus’ arm, he kisses my hair as his breathing slows. I can’t help thinking about what we’ve just done. I’ve never had rough sex with Mike. Maybe a slap on the arse here and there, but nothing that could be compared to what we’ve just done. I loved it.

  “Abigail.”

  “Ummm.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m perfect,” I respond, now sex drunk.

  “Good.”

  We lie there together just like it always should have been. Marcus’ fingers draw figure eights against my skin, and I realise I’m home.

  Shattered

  “Abigail, what are you doing?”

  My head disappears under the sheet as I kiss from his sculptured chest down past his navel. “I want more.”

  The loud chuckle that follows tells me Marcus is getting a taste of exactly how we used to be. Allowing me to do the exploration this time, I note I have many moves I never knew I possessed. How did I forget so much?

  Marcus’ fingers entwine in my hair as his quickening breaths escalate. “Stop!” This word erupts from his lips as he pulls me up onto his chest.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Come here.” His minty tongue swirls in my mouth as his fingers slip into my hair. “I never stopped loving you,” he says, staring deep into my eyes when our lips part.

  “I believe you.”

  “I really missed you.” His mouth devours mine once more.

  Marcus slides out from underneath me. I rest my ear to the bed. My arse cheek stings fiercely and the sound that finally resonates in my mind makes me realise Marcus just slapped me and bloody hard.

  “More?” he asks.

  I swallow hard. Why did that feel so good? Why does Marcus make this seem right?

  “Yes. More.” My words are hushed.

  “I thought so.” The sound of his open palm meeting my flesh makes me wild with want.

  “Again,” I demand, and he doesn’t hesitate to sting my skin once more.

  Pressing his fingers into my hip bones, Marcus lifts my arse upwards until my body follows and I rest on all fours. His mouth kisses over my stinging flesh.

  “So pink.” He sounds pleased. Rubbing his hand in a circle over my arse, he asks, “Another, Abigail?”

  “Hard,” I reply. The sting is intense but doesn’t last long. “Marcus?” I say through short, panted breaths.

  “Yes, Abigail.”

  “Look at me.”

  Twisting me around in front of him, he stares into my eyes. His pupils are wide and his expression blank.

  “I like this.”

  “Yes.”

  “Were we always like this?”

  “Let’s just say we explored a lot of things.”

  I bite at my nail, showing my nervous habit.

  “It’s just…I can’t remember…but I want to remember everything.”

  “You will in time.” He tenses.

  I nod.

  “Do you want to get cleaned up?”

  I shake my head.

  Relief drops his high shoulders.

  Placing my hand over his heart, I feel it beat fast against my palm. With one swift movement, I push him backwards and straddle his waist.

  “My turn.”

  ***

  Succumbing to my third orgasm in one night has my legs shaking like jelly.

  Marcus holds me in his embrace as we lie there searching for a past that was once ours.

  “Let’s get cleaned up. I don’t want you to be too sore tomorrow,” he finally says, with the just fucked look to his expression.

  “Yes,” I reply before kissing his lips.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Satisfied…sober now, I think…content. There’s one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?” His hand holds his head upright. His eyes are filled with curiosity.

  “I have to know why, so I can move forward and find a w
ay to be us again. I need to permanently close the door on Mike and me.”

  Marcus’ eyes widen. His expression now becomes racked with fear. “Why what?”

  “Why Mike left me. It’s what will break my curse. I’m sure of it. I need to go back there tonight and get the answer. Will you take me back?”

  “Will that really help you?” He sounds surprised, anxious even.

  “It’s the only way for me to move on.”

  Closing his eyes, Marcus takes a long inhale. I’m met by eyes that are tormented with guilt.

  “Marcus.”

  “You don’t need to go back. I can tell you why.”

  Sitting upright, I swallow hard as the sting of bile rushes from my stomach to my throat. “How?” I’m instantly scared of the answer to this question. A wave of nausea rolls through me. I grip my stomach to lessen the will to be sick.

  “Because I’m the reason.” These words are spoken so softly, and I tell myself he didn’t say them as I climb out of the bed.

  “What?” My voice rises on the word.

  Marcus sits upright, looking down, not up at me. “Abigail, Mike left because of me.”

  “He didn’t even know you existed. Or that we were together. Did he?” My chest fills with an ache that tells me my heart is about to shatter into a million unrepairable pieces.

  “I paid him off.”

  “What the fuck are you saying?”

  His head lifts as he glances at me. “I’m sorry.”

  “You fucking paid him off. To dump me. To end our engagement. You’re joking.” Anger threatens to spew smoke from my nose.

  “I did,” he whispers. “You were supposed to be with me, Abigail. I am the right man for you, not Mike. I told him our story and offered him a hefty payment to let you go. He decided it wasn’t fair for him to marry you when you had a forgotten past.”

  “Did he take the money?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Oh, it is. Did he take the money, Marcus?” I scream louder.

  Slowly, he nods.

  “I hate you, Marcus Klein. I fucking hate you. You are my curse. It’s you. Never, and I mean never ever look for me again. Don’t come near me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t ever spill your pretentious bullshit and lies near me. I hate you. Do you hear me? I hate you.” Tears flood from my eyes like the gates being lifted from the barrage of an overfilled dam.

  Leaping from the bed, Marcus marches forcefully towards me.

  “Stop!” I scream. “Don’t.”

  “Abigail, please, you have to understand.”

  “I don’t have to understand anything, you arsehole.” I sob, trying to cover my nakedness. “You are dead to me. You, Marcus, are the worst thing that ever happened to me. I don’t want to remember, ever.”

  Water drips from his chin as his hands rush to his head. “You were mine, Abigail. I love you.”

  Broken Hope

  Hope is something we find ourselves wishing for at one time or another. With a newfound hope, we find a new direction in life, right?

  Well, for me, my only hope is that I never have to lay eyes on Marcus Klein again. Actually, no. I hope that arse hat chokes on his fucking guilt.

  If I had a dollar for every time Marcus has said sorry to me over that last couple of weeks, I’d be as filthy rich as him.

  Fucking lying, handsome, deceitful, moneybags.

  Marcus is the reason for my curse. He is the reason my life has been an absolute disaster. He is my undoing.

  Or is this a fictional tale I must tell myself to protect the last ounce of sanity I have left?

  Is this on me?

  Today, Mike will marry Monique in what one can only assume will be a lavish affair. Well, that’s if my little party crashing didn’t dint their happily ever after. God, should I go and apologise? Or should I tell Mike I still love him too? That would be pointless because now I know that I don’t love him anymore. I only loved what I once had with him. Security.

  Paid to let me go. Why would he accept a bribe if he loves me like he claimed?

  Men suck.

  Rolling over, I try to squash this growing mountain of thoughts that seem set on plaguing me for the remainder of eternity. Studying Mum’s peaceful face as she sleeps, I wonder if she’s dreaming of her new love, Dr. Herbert. Then I wonder why she waited so long to find someone to share her life with…well, apart from me. Placing my finger against her warm cheek, I stroke over smooth skin as I study her face. Although she’s aged over time, her beauty was never lost.

  “I love you, Mum,” I mouth with sincerity and love.

  Last night my mother answered my teary pleas for help. She collected me from the foyer of the Oasis after I slammed the door on Marcus and his betrayal. Our past and any future we may have had is over.

  I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t even breathe when I fell into her arms. I just howled uncontrollably for hours, until I finally fell asleep in her embrace—tucked safety in her bed.

  How do I get past this?

  “Morning, petal.” Mum’s eyes flutter open as her voice cracks.

  I snatch my fingers back, hoping I’m not the reason she’s awake. “Morning, Mum.”

  “Did you get any sleep?” she asks before rolling in to face me.

  “Yeah. A bit.”

  “Well, that’s something then, isn’t it?” Wiping the corners of her eyes, she yawns. “Abigail, are you planning on telling me what happened last night? You never showed up to the movie, or answered my texts or calls—then finally I get a call from you distraught and begging for me to come get you.”

  “Yeah.” I don’t want to talk about this.

  “Well?”

  “Marcus.” I sigh before rolling my eyes.

  “He’s back from Sydney?”

  “Yes. He lives at the Oasis.”

  “You were at Marcus’ home with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Doing what?” Her eyes zero in on me as she wriggles closer.

  “What do you think, Mum?”

  “Oh.” Her head shakes.

  “Mike gets married today,” I blurt out before sighing.

  “Yes, he does. How are you dealing with that?”

  “I gatecrashed his and his future bride’s dinner last night. Why is the universe punishing me? Why did we have to be in the same place at the same time? Mum, I just had to know the reason he left me. It’s something I guess I’ve regretted.”

  “Abigail, you didn’t…good gosh, you did. What happened? What did he say?”

  “He said ask him, while pointing to Marcus.”

  “Marcus was at the dinner? Do they know each other?” Her face scrunches tight.

  “Nope.”

  “Abigail, you’re losing me.” Confusion fuels her words.

  “It’s such a long story, Mum, but Marcus showed up and took me back to his house because I was—”

  “As drunk as a nit. I could tell. You reeked of booze. You still bloody do.”

  My hand covers my mouth before I blow into my cupped palm and smell my breath.

  “Abigail, Evan said you weren’t to drink any alcohol, remember? You’re going to end up dead if you keep doing these stupid things.”

  “Good,” I scoff.

  “You don’t mean that. You’re just angry, frazzled, and hurt.”

  “And so much more. Mum, whose Evan?”

  “Doctor Herbert.” And there’s that smile again.

  “Oh. He has a name, does he?”

  “Petal, I think it’s time for you to get counselling. There’s no shame in getting help for things that seem out of our control. I did after your father died,” she confesses as her brow creases and her hand strokes up and down my arm.

  “I don’t need counselling, Mum. I need to get the hell out of this town and find somewhere I can be alone and safe.” Rolling onto my back, I look up at the ceiling before clutching clumps of my hair into my hands—ones that squeeze shut in anguish. “I think I’m going to go away for a while.
Somewhere where Marcus can’t find me. Somewhere far away from this mess and my shitty past.”

  “How about we go to Mar-Mar’s then?”

  “Mar-Mar’s,” I repeat her idea. “That’s actually a good idea. It’s been ages since we’ve been to visit.”

  “Plus, with it being so close to the day she lost her son, she would probably really love having us there. I’m normally one to advise against you hightailing it to escape your issues, but I actually think a trip to Mar-Mar’s would be good for both of us.”

  “Let’s do it. Hang on. What about your work? Can you just leave like that?”

  “Stuff work, Abigail. I have so much annual leave, they will be happy I’m taking some of it. I just want you to get better.”

  “What about Dr. Herbert? Or do I call him Evan?” My nail slips between my teeth, causing Mum’s hand to fall away from my arm.

  “You can call him whatever you feel comfortable calling him.”

  I nod.

  “How about we get up, have some breakfast, pack some bags, and I’ll call Mar-Mar to let her know we’re going to road trip to her place today.”

  “Perfect.”

  Closing my eyes, a whirl of excitement becomes cyclonic in my stomach. Mar-Mar Ilish will have all the answers. She always does.

  ***

  The sound of bacon sizzling on the stove brings back a memory I’d much rather forget. A memory that although I wish to forget, it still has me salivating. Marcus’ bare back, cotton pyjama pants resting at his hips and that delicious grin…

  Now you decide to work. You’re such a ridiculous brain.

  “Can you get that?” Mum calls out before I’m alerted to someone knocking at the front door.

  My heart begins to sprint as my legs lose their strength. “Please don’t be Marcus,” I plead under my breath. “Who is it?” I say through a clogged throat, too frightened to put my hand to the door handle.

  “Jackson.”

  Opening the door, I’m greeted by a kind smile and my suitcase that he is holding at his chest.

  “I believe this belongs to you.”

  “Yes.” Why does Mosby have my suitcase?

  “Well, can I come in?”

  “Sure.” Stepping to the side, he kicks fluorescent yellow thongs from his feet in the doorway.

  I snicker in amusement.

  “What’s funny?” he tuts.