Marcus
If I had to sum up Emma in one word, it would be resilient. The hits have not stopped coming since the snow started to fall: Her ex being in town, May Anne disappearing, and all that both of those things have entailed, and she’s holding together better than I could have expected. She even had the presence of mind to dig out a pair of gloves for me from somewhere.
But I’m still surprised when she shuts the bedroom door. I know that the grief, anxiety and stress of situations like this manifest themselves in many different ways, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to give her exactly what she was asking for by closing the bedroom door, but I also didn’t want to take advantage of her right now. As together as she looked on the outside, I wasn’t so dumb to think that it wasn’t eating her alive inside.
But I want her. I’ve never seen her in a dress before, and she’s perfect. She’s gorgeous and smart and funny, and I’ve wanted to know her, to hold her, to kiss her since the moment we met… So when she closes the gap between us and puts her arms around my neck, I melt into her, bending my neck down to kiss her… But when her hands move down to the buttons on my shirt, I gently grab her by the wrists.
“Emma,” I say softly. “I want this, I do, but…”
“But what?”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“How are you taking advantage of me?” she says.
“I know how much you care about May Anne,” I said. “You must be worried sick about her and I-”
“I am worried sick about her, and I want to be distracted.”
“Is that all I am to you? A distraction?” I smile as if I’m joking, but in the back of my mind, a gnawing doubt was unfurling its ugly little tendrils.
“No,” Emma says, and she twists her wrist out of my hand and cups my face, her thumb stroking the stubble along my jaw. “No Marcus, you’re not a distraction, you’re…” her voice trails off and her cheeks turn slightly pink.
“I’m what?” I ask, pulling her closer to me.
“It’s cringey.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“And too fast.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I repeat in a whisper.
“You’re endgame,” she finally says. “You’re the kind of guy I would bring home to meet my parents, if they were still around. The kind of guy I would take as my date to my cousin’s wedding next month to make all my other cousins jealous. The kind of guy I wish I would have waited around to marry.” She lets the words out in a tumble, her cheeks reddening as she does. “I know we just started… Whatever you want to call this but I… I’ve wanted to be yours for a long time.”
Her words are everything I’ve wanted to hear… Not just from her, but from all the women I’ve pursued. A reassurance that I’m not just a placeholder until that other guy comes around. A reassurance that I’m not too boring or safe. A reassurance that I’m not barking up the wrong tree. I put my arms around her, pressing our bodies together, and I kiss her. The kiss builds in intensity until I feel her hands on the buttons of my shirt again, but this time I let her. She pushes my uniform shirt down my arms and with a whisper, it falls to the floor. I stand there, gazing at her for a moment, her eyes glowing like brown embers in the dim light from her window… Then I do something that’s very out of character for Marcus Pike: I scoop her up in my arms again and carry her over to her bed.
I climb on top of her, nudging her legs apart gently, and then I lower myself to her, kissing her lips with a feverish hunger as she tugs my undershirt free from the waist band of my pants. I pause kissing her just long enough to pull it over my head, and I’m glad -yet again- that I’ve been working out. Emma’s eyes travel down my body, and I feel her fingers gently graze the scar just above my hip.
“I’ve never seen a scar like this before,” she whispers.
“I hope you never do again,” I say, leaning back down to her and kissing her lips before trailing down her neck to her collarbone. I slide my hand along her thigh, stopping at the hem of her dress. “Let me know if you want me to stop,” I urge her. “At any point.”
“I won’t want you to stop,” she says.
“But if you do…” I kiss the tip of her nose. I gently slide down her body a little and position myself between her thighs.
“Oh, um… I don’t really like that,” she says.
“You don’t?” I look back up at her, surprised.
“It doesn’t really do anything for me.”
“That’s a shame,” I say, but I slide back up to her lips, eager to find something she does like.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just something I really like doing.”
“You do?” Now she looks surprised.
“Yeah,” I nod. I almost tell her that it’s my favorite thing, but I don’t want her to feel pressured.
“Well, you can if you want.”
“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do,” I say to her. “I like lots of other things besides that. I’m sure we can find something we both like.”
She nods, but she’s got a pensive look on her face.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask her after a moment.
“It’s silly.”
“Try me.”
“Well…” I wait for her to collect her thoughts. “I guess I don’t really know what I like… It’s always been whatever Deacon or… you know… Whatever they liked.”
“So we’ll figure it out… But are you sure you want to do this now?” I ask her again. “I don’t expect you to have sex with me, you know… If you want to, I’m over the moon, but only if you want to.”
“I told you, I do want it.” Her tone is insistent, and the sight of her on the bed, her dress creeping up her thighs, her chest heaving in anticipation is enough to have me ready to go, but there’s a voice in the back of my head saying that I’m moving too fast again, that this isn’t the right time… That I was going to mess it up like I did with Theresa…
…Except I didn’t mess things up with Theresa. I never had a chance. And it’s taken me ten damn years to realize it. I sit back on my heels, dumbfounded.
“What’s wrong?” Emma sits up, the strap of her dress sliding down one arm. I trace a pattern on her skin with my finger tips where the strap goes, reveling in the feeling of her silky skin beneath mine.
“I told you I tend to move fast, and I don’t want to mess this up.”
“It’s okay if you want to move fast, we’ve both been waiting for this for a long time, I think,” she says softly. “I have at least.” She kisses my cheek, and her lips trace a path to my ear. “I would stare at you when you came into the cafe, imagining what you’d look like without your shirt,” she whispers. “And now I have you here, without your shirt,” she grins, as she kisses along my shoulders. I feel her teeth lightly bite down, closer to my neck and my eyes flutter close as desire courses through my body. For a moment, the only sound in the room is our breathing, and the sound of Emma’s mouth against my skin.
“I’ve wanted it for a long time, too,” I finally manage. Emma pushes me gently back against her mattress, and now she climbs on top of me. She unbuckles my belt and deftly pulls it loose from my pants. “I see you’ve done this before,” I say softly.
“Once or twice,” she replied, and then she unbuttons my pants with one hand.
“Impressive,” I say, swallowing hard. “I thought you didn’t know what you liked?”
“I’m just going with the flow,” she says. “Doing what feels right. Why? Aren’t you having a good time?”
“I’m having a fucking amazing time,” I manage. Emma smiles, and then I feel her hand go down my pants and a moment later, I feel her mouth around me. “Hell,” I moan.”Emma,” I whisper. “Emma, Emma, Emma.” Her name is a prayer on my lips. After a moment, I can’t take it any more. I roll her onto her back.
“I know you said that you don’t like it, and I’m not arrogant enough to think that I know better than you do… But… Could I try? Maybe I can do something different than what you had before?”
“You want to? Really?”
“Yes,” I say earnestly.
“Most guys act like it’s unpleasant.”
“Most guys are idiots.”
“You’ll hear no argument from me on that score. All right… But I hope I won’t hurt your feelings if I don’t like it.”
“If you don’t like it, then you don’t like it, and I’ll figure out what you do like,” I say softly, and I lower myself between her thighs again, kissing along her skin, starting at her knee and working my way up. I slide her dress up to her hips and pull her lacy panties down between her thighs. I feel a small tinge of pride, knowing she might have put them on for me… Lowering myself to where her thighs meet, I gently explore her. For a moment, she’s rigid, silent and still, but then, she gasps.
I look up at her, pulling back slightly.
“You okay?”
“Uh, yeah… that… That was nice.”
“Really? I can stop if you’re not-”
“No, I’m serious,” she says. “I liked it.”
“May I continue?” I say, a smile playing around my lips.
“Yes,” she says in a slightly wobbly voice. I move slowly, gently, pausing to listen to her breathing, but then all at once, her legs begin to quake.
Emma
It’s not that I’m inexperienced. I’ve had sex. Lots of sex. But nothing like what Marcus wanted to do.
I’m sure I don’t need to explain that Deacon isn’t the most… tender or attentive of lovers… The half dozen guys I’ve been with since him weren’t much better, but I thought I knew what to expect when Marcus slid between my knees.
But he surprises me. He moves slowly, but purposefully, and every breath and moan from my lips is met with an adjustment to his movements, each more exquisite than the last. I’ve never been with a man who so intuitively knew what I wanted, what I needed, to climax… But Marcus reads me like a book, and soon, ecstasy is building between my thighs, and I’m suddenly very self conscious. I’ve never cum like this before, and as the spasm tears through me, I feel my thighs tense, squeezing Marcus’s head between them… But that doesn’t deter him. He grips my hips, as if he’s trying to pull me even closer to him, and continues moving his tongue against me. I shake and shiver again, and again, and again. Finally, he comes up for air.
“I thought you didn’t like that,” he says impishly, that boyish smile of his playing around his lips.
“I stand corrected,” I say breathlessly. “You’re going to stay the night tonight, yes?”
“You want me to stay tonight?” he seems surprised. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say softly. “Why are you surprised by that? Especially after…” “Just not used to someone who likes to move as fast as I do,” he chuckles. “But I would love to stay tonight, if that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want,” I say, running my hand along his bicep. “I mean it… I want to forget about… All of it…”
He takes me in his arms then, pulling me close to him.
“I have some ideas, but… Emma… Look, I want this. I want this more than anything, but I don’t want to take-”
“You’re not. I could never regret… Anything with you.” I look up at him, locking onto his gaze. Those deep, slightly sad brown eyes of his twinkle in the dim light of my bedroom.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he says as he holds me close, one hand stroking my hair. “But Emma…Look, I’ve been married and divorced, and as much as I want to believe that this time I’ve got it right, that this is something real, I’ll be honest with you, I’m scared as hell.”
“Your ex really hurt you, huh?” I said. The moment has passed. I can’t push Marcus for anything more, and as much as I know I shouldn’t be, I’m disappointed. He’s… Perfect. And it’s clear to see he’s hurting. I shift slightly, inviting him to slide up next to me, and I wrap my arms around him.
“You really want to have that conversation right now?” he asks, but he embraces me back, pulling my hair back from neck, cradling the back of my head with his hand. I can feel his heart beating in his chest and smell the day on his skin – a primal sort of smell, not sweat and not unpleasant. His curls are mussed, falling over his forehead slightly and his eyes still have that wounded, fragile look.
“I want you to know that this is real, Marcus. I’ve been dancing around my feelings for you for months, because my ex really hurt me, too. I understand where you’re coming from, but if it’s hurting you this much after all this time, I think it’s fair for us to talk it through.”
“I just meant, at this particular moment,” he says, and he gestures to his unbuttoned fly.
“If we keep going in that direction, I’m going to want to do more than just mouth stuff,” I say in a low voice.
“Mouth stuff?” he huffs, amused.
God, I love that smile. The way his face alights when he smiles and his eyes crinkle.
“Yeah,” I say, my lower lip catching slightly between my teeth, in what I hope he thinks is a seductive, coy expression.
“Well,” he says. “As much as I would like to do that and so much more, I think the moment for that has passed.” He kisses me lightly.
“So, tell me what happened with your ex.”
“It happened twice, and because it’s happened twice, I’m sort of wary about patterns.”
“So, tell me. Maybe I can help ease your mind.”
“Goes back to what I said earlier: I move too fast. I meet someone, I fall hard for them, and I push them into things; my wife and I had only been dating about six months when I was accepted to go to Quantico, and I pushed for marriage because I wanted her to be able to live with me in the government housing there… It ended after a couple of years… She met a guy at work, and they were “work husband and work wife.” and then… Anyway, they’re married now.”
“Jesus, Marcus, I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, you didn’t make her cheat,” he says softly. “And then… I was dating a woman right before I got the job in DC, and I asked her to come with me, and then I asked her to marry me… We’d only been dating for a few months but I was just… I was just ready, you know? And she wasn’t, but I pushed her. I pressured her. And it blew up in my face, again. A guy at work…” He trails off. “Anyway, I’m just… wary of moving too fast.”
“Yeah, but I see a couple of key differences here,” I said.
“Well yeah, I’m not about to make any life altering decisions right now,” he said. “Still, I just… When I want something, I just… I push too hard.”
“Yeah but you’re not pushing me,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“You keep describing it as pressure, pushing, like you’re dragging them into something maybe they didn’t really want, but thought they should.”
“When you put it like that, I feel terrible.”
“No, I mean…” I sighed. “Both times you were cheated on, it was with guys they worked with, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking confused.
“I don’t have a lot of experience working in an office, I’ve mostly worked in restaurants and done farm work, but I imagine they form a bond with a person… But if they were really invested in a relationship with you, and not just doing what they thought they should do because.. And this is guess work on my part, but I think that you’re a good guy, Marcus, and every girl believes they want a good guy. And some do, but some don’t, and that is sometimes hard to accept, I think. But sometimes, a girl needs a bad boy because she likes a project, someone she has to save.”
“And what about you?” he says softly. “Do you want a good guy?”
“I’ve had my fill of bad guys,” I said. “I want the white knight, the boyscout, the Dudley Do Right.” I say. He smiles in the dim light of my bedroom. “And to my earlier point, you’re not pressuring me. If anything, I’m pressuring you, and I’m sorry about that. I just… I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. But I want you to be comfortable, so whatever pace you want to move at is fine with me.”
He kisses my forehead.
“Good to know,” he says softly. “Very good indeed.”
“I would still like it if you stayed the night,” I said. “No funny business, I promise.”
“A little funny business might be okay,” he says slyly, his eyes brightening. “We’ll see how the night goes. I promised to keep you distracted, after all.”
My face falls slightly.
“I’m an idiot,” he says. “That was a boneheaded thing to say.”
“No, in all honesty, I’m feeling pretty selfish pretending there’s nothing I can do.”
“What are you going to do, Emma?”
“I don’t know, form a search party? Call everyone in town?”
“We put out an Amber Alert-”
“I know, but not everyone here has a cellphone, Marcus. And even if they do, they might not have a signal with the storms rolling through.”
“We called it in to the state police, but we don’t have the resources or the manpower to do much until the roads are clear and the snow stops for more than a few hours.”
I know he’s right. The storms are supposed to ebb and flow into tomorrow, possibly the following day, depending on a warm front that’s supposed to hit us. Until they stop, there isn’t much the county sheriff can do, and probably not much the state police will do. I sigh, and press my face against his neck.
“Your nose is cold,” he says, and he pulls the quilt at the end of my bed over us.
I smile in spite of myself, and snuggle closer to him. The combination of sleeping on the couch the night before, the worry about May Anne, and the sound of the winds picking back up outside lull me to sleep.