by Amira Rain
"How about...Mississippi?"
Mark stifled a chuckle. "All right. Mississippi it is. Although, if I even hear you say Miss, I'm going to stop what I'm doing right away."
"If I call you Miss, you'd better stop and rethink what you're doing, because the kind of lovemaking I'm craving tonight, I want it made crystal clear to me that the one making love to me is all, one hundred percent, man."
With his eyes glinting in the golden light, Mark spoke in a low growl. "You may live to regret goading me like this."
I looked up into his eyes with an anticipatory little thrill racing through my stomach. "I don't think I will."
We soon began kissing again, with Mark slowly sliding his granite-hard rod between my slick feminine lips, stimulating my most sensitive spot, making me moan, and running my hands across the muscular contours of his back. With my pleasure quickly building, I soon became kind of lost in it, keeping my eyes shut when Mark broke our kiss.
So, I was taken by surprise when he suddenly slid his pole into my depths with one fast, powerful thrust, groaning. However, this surprise wasn't unpleasant. Not at all. I cried out the word yes, reveling in the sensation of being so completely and totally filled, and so quickly. Being taken a bit off-guard had only greatly added to my pleasure.
I didn't have long to get used to Mark's size and hardness, because almost immediately, he began thrusting in a manner that was definitely rough, and definitely just what I'd wanted. Wanting to reassure him of this, I told him not to stop, and he didn't, soon hiking my legs up on his shoulders to allow him even deeper penetration.
Working up a light sheen of perspiration on his forehead, he continued thrusting roughly, causing me discomfort bordering on mild pain, but I liked it. Loved it, actually, because at the same time, the sensation of being so roughly stuffed, and by such a large, hard member, was making me feel a unique kind of pleasure I'd never felt before.
And maybe it wasn't one that I'd like every single time we made love, or even as frequently as every dozen or so times, but on this particular night, it was just what I'd been needing for some reason. Already feeling a powerful orgasm beginning to build, I felt absolutely no desire to utter even the first syllable of Mississippi.
Within a few minutes, I was crying out in rapture, raking my nails down the sides of Mark's back while lifting my hips to meet every single one of his incredibly rapid, rough thrusts. At the same time, he was growling out his own release, filling me with a flood of liquid warmth.
Once every last spasm of our passion had passed, Mark rolled off me, panting, and took me in his arms. Panting myself, I closed my eyes, utterly spent. I didn't even intend to fall asleep, but after a few minutes, I did, and soon began having a series of pleasant, hazy dreams.
When I awoke, the bedroom was dark; the clock on the nightstand read ten exactly and Mark was no longer beside me. However, I had an idea he might be in the kitchen. I could smell some heavenly aroma that I couldn't quite place, something like baking bread but combined with a zestier scent as well. Maybe pizza, I thought, deciding that I definitely needed to investigate.
After climbing out of bed and using the bathroom, I threw on panties, a pair of short cotton pajama shorts, and one of Mark's heavy flannel work shirts, pulling it off the hanger in the dark. Even though it was nearly June and Mark didn't even wear his flannel shirts anymore, I still liked to wear them for oversized sleep shirts, finding them the perfect kind of cozy sleepwear for times when the bedroom got a bit too cold for me in the middle of the night.
I also just plain liked the way they felt, sort of like having Mark's arms wrapped around me even when he didn't actually have his arms around me, like on nights that he couldn't come home before I went to sleep, on account of the Angels.
I arrived in the kitchen just in time to see him taking a supreme pizza out of the oven, which instantly made my stomach growl. Sitting a few feet away from the stove, Rocky was intently watching Mark lift the pizza out. He was watching so intently, in fact, that he didn't even rush me, even though I knew he had to have noticed my arrival in the room.
Making me giggle inwardly, I saw that his lust for pizza was so extreme that he actually had drool dripping from the sides of his mouth. Bless him, he was going to get a little piece of pizza all to himself; I was going to see to that, no matter what Mark thought about it.
After setting the pizza pan on top of the stove, Mark greeted me with a smile, a tight squeeze, and a kiss. "I was hoping you'd join me for a late dinner. You hungry?"
"For homemade pizza? Always."
Mark winced slightly. "How about frozen pizza thrown in the oven?"
I laughed, somehow tickled that he'd winced. "Frozen pizza is just fine, too."
Soon we began enjoying our pizza at the table with bottles of beer. On the floor beside us, Rocky gobbled his very own small slice, which was actually half of a regular slice, because although I wanted to indulge his pizza lust, I didn't want him to get tummy trouble. I had, however, cut his little slice into numerous smaller pieces so that his treat would possibly last longer, though the way he was chowing down with zero restraint, it didn't look like it was going to last a second longer than half a minute, if that.
Wanting to at least make good headway on my first slice before he started begging for more, I started to eat as well, discovering that Mark's wince-worthy frozen pizza was actually outstanding, with perfectly crisp yet tender-on-the-inside crust, flavorful vegetables, pepperoni, and sausage, and a tangy sauce with just a hint of sweetness, just how I liked it.
At first, Mark and I ate quietly, with the low buzz of some sports talk radio show in the background, coming from a small radio by the oven that he'd apparently turned on while waiting for the pizza to cook. Though I wasn't particularly interested in sports, I was glad he'd left it on, because I'd never liked eating in dead silence.
Not to mention that the quiet buzz of the radio was partially masking a few rather unappetizing smacking noises that Rocky was making, not that I really minded them. As far as I was concerned, he could make whatever noises he wanted.
When I'd nearly finished my first slice, Mark asked me how I liked it. "Is it okay?"
Holding the rest of my slice in one hand, I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin before responding. "I'll just say that I'm kind of having a spiritual experience with this pizza. It's really amazing."
Mark grinned, lifting a second slice from the pan. "Good."
Beside us, sitting next to his empty doggie bowl, which he'd licked thoroughly clean, Rocky woofed, clearly ready for seconds. Unable to deny him, I tore off a few little bites of the remainder of my own slice and put the bites in his dish, telling him that this would be it; there would be no more.
Mark looked over at me, shaking his head. "Good luck with that. My guess is that what you just said went in one of his ears and right out the other."
I slid back in my seat, smiling. "Shows what you know. Rocky actually obeys me."
Mark fought a grin. "Since when?"
Scoffing but amused, I lifted another slice of pizza from the pan. "Well, he obeys me sometimes, okay?"
Occasionally might have been more accurate. However, stunningly, this was one of those rare times. After finishing his extra bites, Rocky actually flopped down on the floor, sighing contentedly, decidedly not begging for more.
I looked up at Mark, triumphant. "See? What did I say? In gratitude of my babying of him, Rocky obeys me always."
Mark chuckled, shaking his head. "Whatever you say."
Once again, we went back to eating quietly, and it was only then that what I'd said earlier, about the pizza being a "spiritual experience," triggered some funny connection in my mind.
Astonishingly, I realized I'd completely forgotten to ever ask Mark about the "spiritual awakening" that Christy had said he'd experienced in his past. And now that I remembered, I felt an urgent need to find out what that had all been about.
CHAPTER 16
Over the previous seve
ral weeks, I'd asked Mark lots of things about his childhood, his parents and extended family, and what it was like to be a shifter, but I'd somehow never touched on his career as a Navy SEAL, or what came after, in the years before he'd become a shifter.
This struck me as almost stunning that I'd never asked him about this subject, especially considering how curious I'd been about it when Christy told me. However, cutting myself a bit of slack, I realized that I had a lot of other things competing for space in my brain the previous few weeks.
Once we'd both had our fill of pizza, nearly polishing off the entire thing save for the half-slice leftover from Rocky's, I sat back in my chair, full, comfortable, and just a shade buzzy from being halfway through my second beer.
Having decided to just come right out and ask Mark about his time in the SEALS and years immediately after, without telling him that Christy had tipped me off to his some sort of a spiritual awakening, that's what I did. Just came right out and asked him to please tell me about that time period. "I want to know more about your life during those years...before you became a shifter."
Looking slightly surprised by my request, Mark leaned back in his own chair, holding his second beer against his washboard abs, which were visible beneath the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. "Well...those years are both a long story and a short story at once...but here's the short version.
“After several years as a SEAL, I came to realize I was heading down a dangerous path, though not by way of drugs or drinking too much, or anything along those lines. I was heading down a dangerous path because I was in serious danger of becoming a complete asshole."
"No."
Although I wouldn't put it past Mark to be infuriating, because he certainly had been the night he'd restrained me, I just couldn't ever see him being a "complete asshole."
Seemingly amused by my response, he cracked a grin. "Yes. To make the short story shorter, I'd let being a SEAL go to my head. And the higher up the ranks I rose, the cockier I got...the more self-centered I got. I was somewhat drunk on my own skill, and accomplishments, and power, but it was kind of a frog-in-boiling-water sort of thing.
“I didn't realize that my personality had changed so drastically since I'd left home until it started affecting my personal relationships, and even some of my professional ones, forcing me to take a good, hard look in the mirror. And once I'd done that...once I'd done done some serious thinking...I realized that I didn't like the man I'd become, and I wanted to change.
“Being that I didn't feel like I could really effect the drastic change that I wanted while still serving as a SEAL, I called it a day, and didn't renew my contract when it was up, which was only a month later. Then I walked away."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that, and it was one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life. I knew I needed to get my head screwed on straight before I could ever be in a position of power and authority over other men ever again."
"So, then what did you do?"
With his eyes twinkling in the warm glow of an amber-colored Tiffany lamp above the table, Mark took a sip of his beer, then set the bottle on a cork coaster on the table. "I loaded a truck full of teddy bears and drove all around Appalachia, handing them out to kids."
I just sat speechless for a moment. "What?"
Mark fought a grin, eyes still twinkling. "It was right before Christmas, and I joined a volunteer group who distributed toys to needy kids in coal mining communities where many people had been put out of work. We spent several weeks going around to schools, rec centers, and even private homes, delivering gifts for kids to have right then, and others for their folks to put under their Christmas trees.
“We handed out all sorts of toys, dolls, basketballs and footballs...and also a whole lot of teddy bears. That was my truck. I even got to dress up as Santa Claus."
So, I realized, this was the way it was going to be. I was going to break trust with a man who'd distributed teddy bears to impoverished kids. While dressed in a Santa suit, no less. I hardly dared ask Mark what he'd done after the holidays were over. However, feeling compelled to find out, after telling him that his Santa work had been incredibly kind, I did ask. And after another sip of his beer, Mark answered.
"Well, after connecting with another charity group, I went further south and spent a year traveling to various states, repairing homes for low-income and elderly folks who couldn't afford to pay for repairs. I did roofing and siding, and a lot of carpentry work...I built a lot of bunk bed frames and kitchen tables and chairs."
Mark had also made the kitchen table we were currently sitting at, and with a finish so glossy it was mirror-like, it was more beautiful than any table I'd ever seen in a furniture showroom.
"Then, after my year down south, I headed west and joined another charity group, again doing home repairs for people who couldn't afford them. The following year, I hopped a plane to Africa and began work for a charity that distributed free medicine, food, clothing, and medicine to the poor.
“Several other similar charity jobs in various countries and states followed after that. Basically, for several years, I just focused on serving. Not controlling people and asserting my authority at all possible opportunities, just to show people what I was made of, like I'd done during my years as a SEAL.
“During my charity years, I just served, learning to be happy and content serving my fellow human beings in whatever ways I could. And by the time the Takeover happened and I became a shifter, I'd finally gotten to the point where I felt ready to lead a group of men again, now knowing that a good leader can't rely on strength, power, and domination alone; he needs to have humility and a heart to serve others as well."
Then I had no idea how I was ever going to escape North Haven and betray Mark's trust. Just hearing his story about his charity years had caused more than a bit of mist to rise in my eyes.
After wiping some of it away with the back of my hand, I again told Mark that I thought he was incredibly kind, and I also told him I thought he was a leader second to none. "It's no wonder your men are so loyal to you."
Mark thanked me for my kind words, then said it was too bad his own dog didn't seem as loyal to him as his men. Cracking a smile, he gestured to my arm. "It looks like Rocky had a go at my shirtsleeve. That's not very loyal."
Not comprehending at first, I looked down at the sleeve in question and realized that I was wearing the blue flannel shirt that Rocky had torn with his teeth when I'd first arrived to North Haven. I'd laundered it and had hung it back up, forgetting to tell Mark that one of the sleeves now bore a few rips in the distinct shape of a line of teeth.
Smiling a little at the memory, I looked up at Mark. "Well, your shirt turned out to be not quite as durable as I thought it would be. Turns out it's not very resistant against puppy teeth."
We soon let Rocky out and then tucked him into bed with the cats in their room before showering together and going to bed ourselves. However, thinking about Mark's growing trust in me, and thinking about my family, it was a long time before I actually was able to fall asleep.
The next day, I had three lion guards tail me to the new lending library so that I could deliver a stack of Mark's unwanted books to Christy, as I'd promised her the day before. I'd also promised to help her stain a new bookshelf that had been donated to the library. Although when I got there, I could tell right away that Christy wasn't going to be in any mood for a project. The storage room-turned-library didn't have a door yet, so even a few feet from the doorway, the sound of someone crying easily reached my ears.
After pausing in my tracks, I turned to my guards, who were now in human form, and whispered for them to please beat it. "Just take a walk down the hallway so that I can have some privacy with my friend. Please and thank you."
Despite looking a bit hesitant to give me space, all three guards began ambling down the hallway after a moment or two spent glancing at each other.
Rushing into the library, I found Christy sitti
ng on the floor with her thin face in her hands, sobbing. Intentionally making enough soft noise so that I wouldn't startle her, I set my donated books in a wheeled cart, walked around a stack of DVDs, and sat down beside her. "Need a listening ear or a shoulder?"
She lifted her blotchy face and looked at me with her eyes nearly swollen into slits. "I don't even care about all these stupid books and movies. I just want my husband back."
Before I could respond, she began sobbing again, lowering her face to my shoulder. With my heart aching for her, I wrapped my arms around her and just held her, periodically rubbing her shoulder, while she continued crying for a minute.
Then, she lifted her face, pulled a tissue from a box beside her, and dabbed at her bloodshot honey-brown eyes before speaking. "I've asked Mark if I can go on a mission to try to rescue Nolan, but he says no way in hell would he ever let me do that...and even if he would, there's still the problem that we don't even know where Nolan is.
