Loving Marcus

by Roxanne Greening

  At some point, I fell asleep, and when I opened my eyes, it was to see his dark blue jean-clad leg. It hit me that I had fallen over and placed my head on his lap.

  Why didn’t he move? How long was I laying like this? The tv screen was black, and his fingers were running gently through my hair. His fingertips brushed my scalp leaving tingles in their wake.

  My fingers itched to touch him. I slowly moved as if I was afraid I might spook him. I laid my hand on his thigh, the denim material was ruff yet soft under my fingers. I felt every muscle in his body stiffen slightly. I knew he held his breath waiting for my next move when I did nothing the tension slowly eased. One taunt muscle at a time.

  My hand glided down his thigh, and the heat of him started to burn into my sensitive flesh. Slowly, very slowly, I dragged my hand up his thigh applying slight pressure the further up I went. I held my breath, suspended at the moment, as his fingers fisted in the strands he had been gently sifting through.

  I want him to force me to sit up. I wanted him to pull me into his lap, so his cock was pressed firmly against my wet pussy with only four layers keeping them apart.

  I needed him to ease this ache that’s been plaguing me since the moment my brown eyes met his blue ones.

  I wanted to know what it felt like to run my fingers through his light brown hair. Was it as soft as it looked?

  What would it feel like to have a man inside of me? What would it feel like to have him inside of me? I needed it to be him. This desire was almost unbearable. I’ve never felt this kind of need before, no man has come close to electing this kind of response from me.

  He was like a boiling need in my blood heating me up from the inside out.

  “Willow,” Marcus said my name in a husky voice.

  The fingers that once were fisted in my hair grabbed my hand as I shifted further up his thigh. I was so close to my goal, so close to touching him, feeling his length. Disappointment coated me like a second skin.

  I wanted him, I wanted him to want me. I rolled and turned facing him. He looked at me with his blue eyes. My desire showed through my brown ones, and he let me see how much he wanted me.

  Behind those blazing eyes, I took in the dark, heated desire I could see staring back at me. I knew he wouldn’t be a gentle lover. Then he closed off that look, effectively, yet silently, rejecting what I was so brazenly offered.

  “Why?” I asked him. My voice filled with need and tinged with sadness.

  “We can’t do this Willow, one night is all I can offer you. I’m not from here, I’m not a carter, and I will need to go home to the family,” his honesty slayed me.

  Could I walk away? Could I forget the undeniable connection I felt to this man? Standing, I walked into my room without looking back. I desperately wanted too, but I didn’t.

  When the door clicked shut behind me, I let the first tear fall then another and another until was drowning in them.

  Sliding down the white solid wood door, I shook slightly. Fighting and succeeding at keeping the sobs rattling in my chest from making it past my lips.

  I felt like I just lost something vital, something important.

  Chapter 8

  Marcus

  Regret flooded me. I felt so guilty for hurting her. I fucking hated that I wanted her, and she wanted me too. Didn’t she get it? I was a killer. I was a Valisk, not a Carter.

  This wasn’t my home, and one day, soon, I would be leaving. Willow deserved more than I had to offer. The thought of another man touching her had my gut twist, and my hands turn into fists.

  I laid down on the couch and thought of her hair as it brushed against my fingers. When her fingers caressed my thigh, my dick was rock fucking hard.

  I wanted to let her continue her shy, yet gentle, exploration. Closing my eyes, I fought the need to unzip my pants and pull out my dick.

  I needed relief, but the risk of her finding me here jerking off was too high. I knew if she came out of that room, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from pulling those tight black skinny jeans down her long, perfect legs.

  I wouldn’t be able to resist the need to pull that tight white tank top off her body and take one of her nipples into my mouth and suck it gently.

  Placing my hand on my hard cock, I adjusted it slightly. I couldn’t hold back the moan as I imagined Willow on her knees sucking my cock.

  I imagined guiding her, teaching her how to suck me just the way I needed it. She would shyly lick her lips before opening her mouth and take me into her moist, wet heat.

  The sound of my phone ringing pulled me from the best fucking imagery I’ve ever had. Porn had nothing on what I was watching behind my closed eyes.

  “Marcus,” I growled. The frustration I was feeling leaked into my voice.

  “Rough night?” My father, Ivan, asked with a laugh. He knew my assignment.

  “Fuck, when will this be over?” I asked him. I needed the fuck away from her before I acted on all the filthy things I wanted to do to her. Things that would have her screaming in both pleasure and pain.

  “Can’t handle it?” My father’s tone turned disappointed.

  “I need to get the fuck away from her,” I told him sharply.

  I heard a door opening, and my eyes met Willow’s through the crack. Her eyes were wide and full of pain. She heard what I said. Guilt and pain swirled through me like a tornado.

  “Fuck!” I shouted.

  “You put that big foot of your in your mouth, didn’t you?” My father sounded just as amused as Lark had earlier.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I spit the words out. I was trapped here with the one woman who made me feel, made me desire more than just one night.

  “Tell me, son, does she have you twisted into knots? Is she worth letting it all go?” My father asked.

  She does that and more. But I didn’t tell him that.

  “I don’t fucking belong here,” I tell him instead.

  “And where do you belong, Marcus?” My father asked. The question was sitting in the back of my head for months now.

  “Is it here or with her?” He asked when I didn’t reply to the last question.

  With Willow, always with her.

  “I think you already know the answer to that,” He told me.

  He was right. I needed to make a choice. Running my fingers through my hair, I fight the urge to throw my phone. My choice? Walk away from the woman who stole my heart or leave her behind.

  “Can you live with the thought of someone else touching her? Loving her?” My father asked. The questions plagued me and ate away at my insides like an infestation.

  Chapter 9

  Willow

  I heard him before I even opened the door. I had this childlike hope that I imagined what I heard. Marcus was laying on the couch with his phone pressed to his ear.

  I listened as he told whoever he was talking to that he wanted out of here. That he desperately wanted away from me. His blue eyes met mine, and I could see the regret.

  He only regretted me hearing him. My heart twisted painfully, and my lungs hurt painfully in my chest, as I closed the door cutting off what I could see in those beautiful eyes.

  I was a fool to think I could ever touch him, let alone have him. I wasn’t sure I would survive spending time with someone who couldn’t wait to be as far from me as possible.

  Every breath I took had my heart squeeze, and my lungs burn. It felt like shards of glass were lodged in my chest. Each movement had me bleeding a little more.

  My fingers toyed with my phone. I contemplated calling my father. I needed space from the man who both stole my heart and ripped it from my chest.

  Making this call felt like losing some of the independence I worked so hard for. If I dialed his number and uttered the words, Slade would be right.

  Is it worth it? My subconscious asked.

  Yes! My mind screamed. Gripping the phone, I fought the war within. What was I going to do?

  Chapter 10

 
; Marcus

  I was an asshole. My phone creaked under the pressure of my tightening hand. If I squeezed any harder, my screen would crack.

  How the fuck do I fix this shit? I waited for a slap to the head, but it didn’t come. There was no pain and no instant magic.

  She was behind that door hurting, and I was out here lost. The sound of the phone creaking got louder. Slowly, I released my fingers and slipped the device back into my pocket.

  My long stride had me walking back and forth across the floor getting closer and closer to her door with each passing.

  I ran my fingers through my hair and fisted the slightly long strands on top of my head. I gave it a little tug, trying to think of what to do. But, I had no fucking clue. Nothing came to mind on how to make this right.

  Guilt swallowed me in its cold embrace as hate and anger drowned me. Taking a step closer to the white, wooden door, I raised my fist willing it to connect with the solid surface.

  I listened for anything. Any indication that I could get through to her tonight, but all I could hear was silence. Walking back over to the soft black couch, I sat down hard and put my head in my hands.

  The same thought ran over and over through my head. I was a monster.

  Chapter 11

  Willow

  I did the unthinkable and dialed his number. I listened on a suspended breath as it rang over and over. The moment it connected, my breath was lodged in my throat.

  “Willow,” his voice was filled with concern.

  “Daddy,” I whispered.

  Hurt and devastation had leaked through my voice. Running my fingers over my quilt, I fought back the sobs again.

  “What happened?” My father’s voice was more alert and filled with alarm.

  “I want someone else to watch me,” there I said it.

  “Willow,” he sighed.

  “I don’t want to see Marcus anymore. Please?” I begged at the end. The hurt that I had fought to keep back was loud and clear.

  “Why?” He demanded.

  I could tell he was ready to come over and slay the preverbal dragon.

  “I just don’t want to see him anymore,” I told him evasively. My fingers were now clenching my peach and pink quilt.

  “You remind me so much of your grandmother,” Daddy told me fondly. Some of the darkness had receded from his voice.

  “Daddy?” I asked in confusion. I didn’t understand where Nana came into all of this. I just wanted away from Marcus.

  “She once wanted to get away from her detail as well. Couldn’t wait to get away from him. Begged and pleaded for someone new,” He told me in amusement.

  “Did she get away?” I asked him.

  “She did and regretted it,” He told me.

  Holding my breath, I thought about what just happened tonight. I came to the conclusion that I wouldn’t regret this choice, not completely.

  “Who did she want to get away from?” I asked the second question that ate at me.

  “Your grandfather. She hated being around him,” His amusement was tinged with sadness. Nana passed away a few years ago and Papa a few years before that.

  Closing my eyes, I thought of them both and pulled their images from deep within. The best image I had of her was when I was a child.

  Her long dark hair threaded with gray and was pulled back into a perfect bun. Her brown eyes were full of amusement as Papa ran his fingers up her sides giving her a little tickle.

  Papa had silverfish hair with a small amount of dark brown hair. He had dark tan skin and a smile that was ever present on his face. To an outsider, you would never know my family was killers. Every one of them was high in the upper echelon of the mafia.

  “What changed?” I asked him.

  “Nothing and everything,” he told me.

  I sighed hoping for some elaborate cure to this problem. I wanted what they had, the happiness and love.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked me.

  “Yes,” I whispered terrified that tonight was the last night I would spend with Marcus.

  He doesn’t want you. My mind whispered.

  “I hoped for more,” daddy grumbled.

  “Huh?” I asked, not quite catching what he said.

  “Consider it done little love,” Daddy said.

  For a moment, I wanted to change my mind and take the words back. To tell Daddy that I made a mistake and beg him not to let this happen. But, I then remembered what Marcus said, and just like that, my world crumbled again.

  Chapter 12

  Marcus

  Someone was pounding on the door. Reaching for my gun, I palmed it and walked towards the door. Leaning forward, I looked through the peephole and took in the man on the other side.

  “What the fuck are you doing here Cole?” I asked the man coolly.

  “Open the fucking door,” my little brother growled.

  Sighing, I pulled it open and looked at my little brother. His light brown hair was cut like mine, shaved on the sides and longer on the top. It was slicked back with a comb or his fingers. He had blue eyes and a six-foot-two frame, just two inches shorter than me.

  “Why the fuck are you here?” I demanded.

  “I was sent to replace you, brother,” he told me. His voice filled with humor as he raised one light brown eyebrow, waiting for my response.

  “Go the fuck home,” I told him coldly. He wasn’t going anywhere near Willow; the bastard had a track record of getting into women’s panties.

  They claimed he had the face of an angel, but all I could see was a pain in the ass. He somehow made it through his teens and young adult life without having his face rearranged by the woman’s fathers, brothers, or significant other.

  “Call dad if you don’t believe me,” Cole told me in amusement.

  Reaching for my phone, I dialed my father’s number while keeping my eyes glued to Cole.

  “Marcus,” my father answered quietly.

  “Why the fuck is Cole here?” I demanded darkly.

  “He’s your replacement,” Ivan informed me.

  “What the fuck?” I growled. I wanted to scream the words, but I didn’t want to wake Willow.

  “Lark called last night and said to send your brother. He said that it wasn’t working out,” his dad said with disappointment loud and clear in his voice.

  After our call last night, I had thought of everything he said. I thought about how I felt. Now, I wasn’t going to get the chance to do a fucking thing where she’s concerned.

  “I’m not leaving her,” I told them both. I couldn’t leave her.

  “You’re coming home, Marcus,” my father paused and then said, “I’m sorry.”

  Placing the phone back into my pocket I ran my fingers through my hair over and over. My eyes constantly looked at the wall separating her from me.

  Walking to her door, I knocked on it. “Willow?” I called out loudly. I waited for anything, a go fuck yourself, a go away, anything would do, but I got nothing.

  Walking up to my brother I grabbed him by his shirt. My fist wrapped tight into the dark cotton material of his t-shirt.

  “Keep your fucking dick in your pants where she’s concerned, little brother, or ill feed it to you.” I threatened.

  His blue eyes widen, and laughter escaped his lips. I pulled him closer, and he nodded quickly.

  “All you had to do was call dibs, big brother,” his voice was filled with undisguised humor.

  Letting him go was a little more difficult than I thought it would be. Walking to the closet, I grabbed my bag containing all my clothes I slung it over my shoulder.

  “Make sure she eats fucker,” I snapped at him. If he didn’t take care of her, I would kill him.

  Looking at her door again, I pleaded silently for it to open and get one more look at her before I went home. When nothing happened, I cursed under my breath.

  As the front door closed behind me. I walked over to my black Harley motorcycle. Straddling it, I felt bereft a
s if I just lost a chunk of myself.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Chapter 13

  Willow

  I knew the moment he was gone, I felt it. The apartment felt emptier, colder, and darker. Licking my now dry lips, I felt the tears well in my eyes.

  Blinking them back, I gulped for air as the room started to close in on me. The peach walls, once so bright, seemed duller and more confining.

  I then started to run my fingers over the soft material of my quilt and along the stitches. My Nana made me this quilt, each stitch was done by hand.

  My eyes closed as I thought of the man I couldn’t live without. What have I done? It was hard to breathe without him.

  Soulmate. My mind whispered the word. Marcus didn’t feel the same as me, he didn’t feel what I felt. His blue eyes flashed before my closed lids, his lips curled into a grin as I watched him.

  He was gone now, and I was responsible. Why didn’t he fight for me? Didn’t he understand what he was to me? What I was to him?

  Just remembering his touches had tingles surfacing all over. Also, the way his beautiful deep blue eyes would flash when he was unhappy about something. His anger was sometimes a whip in the room.

  Behind my closed lids, I was outside with him in my magic place. The sun was kissing his skin. It danced off his light brown hair. His legs crossed in front of him as I lay lazily on the blanket next to him.

  He was scanning the area, but I was watching his muscles move under his skin. The way his chest rose and fell, the way his arms flexed effortlessly holding his weight.

  The black t-shirt hugged his beautifully sculpted abdomen perfectly. He had molded his body to be a weapon, I could see that.

  I wanted to lean forward and push his shirt up his chest with my hands. My fingers would dip in the hard plains, and my tongue would follow in their wake.

  Would he groan as I kissed his smooth, soft skin? There was a throbbing between my thighs that started when I first thought of him. Now, it was a full-blown aching, hard throb in desperate need of relief.