Page 122
Story: A Secret Escape
His eyes flicker into that devilish flame I know all too well by now, and suddenly he’s on top of me, pinning me to the bed with a grin that makes my whole body ignite.
“Is that so?” he whispers, pressing his cock against me, already hard for me.
I open my mouth to answer, but before I can say a word, his lips are on mine, his hands in my hair, and everything else melts away. A rush of heat spreads through my veins as I lift my leg, wrapping it around him, and I feel him smile against my mouth as his fingers reach down and find me ready and soaking wet for him.
He slides into me slowly, purposefully, his body syncing with mine like it’s the only place we were ever meant to be.
I clutch his back, nails grazing his skin, his name rising from my throat in a moan as his lips wander down my neck and collarbone.
I hold him as he finishes inside me, burying his face in my neck as he exhales with a deep, shuddering sigh. I love the weight of him on top of me, the way our bodies stay connected making everything feel complete.
He props himself up onto his elbows, looking at me in that way he does that makes my insides melt every single time.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I say, and his lips press against mine, the overwhelming emotion spreading through every part of me.
***
It has been nearly four months since that night at the cottage, and every day, I still feel as though I’m in a dream.
After we got back, Marcus helped me clean out the flat. Most of my things had been ruined – the couch, the bed, the TV. I bought a cheap mattress on a credit card and put down a few cushions in the living room to sit on, but it hadn’t mattered as I was spending almost every night at his anyway.
He first told me he loved me a month after we got back. He’d been teaching me how to cook, and we were in his kitchen one evening, chopping vegetables side by side, the radio playing softly in the background. The evening light was streaming in through the window, bathing the room in a golden glow.
I was telling him a silly story about work, gesturing with a wooden spoon as I mixed up the salad, when I caught him staring at me. His eyes had that tender look – the one that always makes me forget what I’m saying.
“What?” I asked, laughing shyly.
He shook his head, as if coming out of a trance. His hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against mycheek.
“I love you.”
The simplicity of it took my breath away. My heart seemed to stop for a moment, then race forward. The wooden spoon clattered onto the floor as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“I love you too,” I whispered against his lips.
And although it seemed completely insane, after only two months, he asked me to move in. It felt wild… but also right.
I was practically living here anyway, and it made more sense that I could contribute towards bills and groceries than keep paying for an empty flat.
We’ve now been living together for nearly two months, and not a day goes by that I don’t feel like the luckiest girl in the world to be waking up next to him.
I got on birth control the week we got back from the cottage, and the sex? It’s everything. Slow and tender some nights, rough and desperate others. We’ve done it in the bath, on the couch, even on the stairs once – which was surprisingly hot – but nothing beats the bed, where I can look into his eyes and tell him I love him.
And I do. So much.
***
I glance at the wardrobe, where my dress for the evening hangs on the door. It’s an absolute dream – strapless, floor-length, with a deep emerald-green bodice covered in tiny jewels that cascade into a sheer, flowing skirt that drapes elegantly to the floor. It has a slit on one side up to the thigh, showing off my legs as I walk. It shimmers and sparkles with every turn of the light and I feel like a princess every time I try it on. It had been completely out of my budget, but Marcus insisted. Itried to argue, but honestly? There’s no point when he gets that look in his eye, so I caved and let him buy it for me.
He groans, kissing me softly before rolling onto his back beside me.
I turn onto my side, resting a hand on his chest, my fingers brushing the cool onyx stone. “You okay?”
He looks over at me with that familiar, warm light and a grin that still knocks the air out of my lungs. “I am now,” he says. “You?”
I nod, smiling. “Yea… I really am.”
“Is that so?” he whispers, pressing his cock against me, already hard for me.
I open my mouth to answer, but before I can say a word, his lips are on mine, his hands in my hair, and everything else melts away. A rush of heat spreads through my veins as I lift my leg, wrapping it around him, and I feel him smile against my mouth as his fingers reach down and find me ready and soaking wet for him.
He slides into me slowly, purposefully, his body syncing with mine like it’s the only place we were ever meant to be.
I clutch his back, nails grazing his skin, his name rising from my throat in a moan as his lips wander down my neck and collarbone.
I hold him as he finishes inside me, burying his face in my neck as he exhales with a deep, shuddering sigh. I love the weight of him on top of me, the way our bodies stay connected making everything feel complete.
He props himself up onto his elbows, looking at me in that way he does that makes my insides melt every single time.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I say, and his lips press against mine, the overwhelming emotion spreading through every part of me.
***
It has been nearly four months since that night at the cottage, and every day, I still feel as though I’m in a dream.
After we got back, Marcus helped me clean out the flat. Most of my things had been ruined – the couch, the bed, the TV. I bought a cheap mattress on a credit card and put down a few cushions in the living room to sit on, but it hadn’t mattered as I was spending almost every night at his anyway.
He first told me he loved me a month after we got back. He’d been teaching me how to cook, and we were in his kitchen one evening, chopping vegetables side by side, the radio playing softly in the background. The evening light was streaming in through the window, bathing the room in a golden glow.
I was telling him a silly story about work, gesturing with a wooden spoon as I mixed up the salad, when I caught him staring at me. His eyes had that tender look – the one that always makes me forget what I’m saying.
“What?” I asked, laughing shyly.
He shook his head, as if coming out of a trance. His hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against mycheek.
“I love you.”
The simplicity of it took my breath away. My heart seemed to stop for a moment, then race forward. The wooden spoon clattered onto the floor as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“I love you too,” I whispered against his lips.
And although it seemed completely insane, after only two months, he asked me to move in. It felt wild… but also right.
I was practically living here anyway, and it made more sense that I could contribute towards bills and groceries than keep paying for an empty flat.
We’ve now been living together for nearly two months, and not a day goes by that I don’t feel like the luckiest girl in the world to be waking up next to him.
I got on birth control the week we got back from the cottage, and the sex? It’s everything. Slow and tender some nights, rough and desperate others. We’ve done it in the bath, on the couch, even on the stairs once – which was surprisingly hot – but nothing beats the bed, where I can look into his eyes and tell him I love him.
And I do. So much.
***
I glance at the wardrobe, where my dress for the evening hangs on the door. It’s an absolute dream – strapless, floor-length, with a deep emerald-green bodice covered in tiny jewels that cascade into a sheer, flowing skirt that drapes elegantly to the floor. It has a slit on one side up to the thigh, showing off my legs as I walk. It shimmers and sparkles with every turn of the light and I feel like a princess every time I try it on. It had been completely out of my budget, but Marcus insisted. Itried to argue, but honestly? There’s no point when he gets that look in his eye, so I caved and let him buy it for me.
He groans, kissing me softly before rolling onto his back beside me.
I turn onto my side, resting a hand on his chest, my fingers brushing the cool onyx stone. “You okay?”
He looks over at me with that familiar, warm light and a grin that still knocks the air out of my lungs. “I am now,” he says. “You?”
I nod, smiling. “Yea… I really am.”
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