I run my fingertip up the eight rows of muscles on his abs. He’s like a statue in the flesh. And I can’t believe he’s here in my bed.
Or that he bought me in the first place.
I nestle my head against his chest, listen to his heartbeat, steady and strong. And then ask what I’ve been yearning to know.
“Tell me why you did it.” I nibble my lip, waiting for his answer.
“Did what?”
“Bought me.”
“Because I’ve been looking for you all my life and then there you were. It was the logical thing to do.”
My heart aches with the pleasure of those words. Being wanted. Being looked for. Being finally found.
He runs his fingertip over the ridge of my hip, tracing the delicate stretchmarks that always bothered me a bit. Until now.
“Your turn,” he says softly. “Tell me why you did it. You clearly don’t need the money.”
I lift my eyes to his, balancing my chin on his chest now.
“But I do. I need my own money. I need my own life. Being here, with them, this world…it’s just…” I glance toward the window, at the dim glow of the lights that line the driveway and the long front walk.
“Suffocating,” he finishes for me.
“Yes. Exactly. And I just thought if there was any chance for me to go out on my own, I had to try it.”
His chest rises on a deep inhale as his hand smooths my hair.
“Risky. But I’m so fucking glad you did it.”
All of this, it feels like a spell. Like a dream. And I don’t want to wake up from it. Ever.
“Me too.”
“I need more.” His voice is thick with that darkness and it makes my belly flip.
He pulls me down next to him, his chest to my back, his hand easing my top leg upward as I feel his thickness pushing inside me again.
“I need more too,” I manage before his arms wrap around my body and he starts fucking me like a blow-up doll.
And I’ve never felt more loved.
More dozing.
More dreaming.
More listening to his heartbeat and matching my breath with his. After a bit, I roll off the bed to get us both a glass of water from the bathroom. I place them together on my bedside table.
I just wish I could make this moment a bit more special. It doesn’t feel quite right, keeping him hidden away up here, with nothing but tap water and stuffed animals.
“I wish I had something to offer you.”
He looks surprised. He gives me a slow, greedy, elevator-stare.
“You’ve got plenty to offer.”
Oh god. I feel my cheeks sting with a blush.
“I mean, to eat. Or drink.”
He gives me a look to say it doesn’t matter at all.
“I want you, not some hostess-with-the-mostest version of you.”
But it does matter. It does to me. And that’s when I remember.
From the bottom drawer of my dresser, I take out box of Valentine’s Day chocolates and place the velvet heart-shaped box on his rippling abdomen.
“There. That’s something.”
He doesn’t look happy. At all.
“Full disclosure, I’m going to have to break the legs of whatever guy gave these to you.”
Oooh. Possessive. I like that a lot. But unfortunately, it’s entirely misplaced.
“Relax. I got these for myself on sale, first week of March.”
“Good. Because it’s probably better I don’t add felony assault to robbing the cradle on my list of misdeeds for this week.”
He takes a white chocolate cream from the center of the box and feeds it to me.
“You aren’t robbing the cradle,” I say with my mouth full. “Please. I’m nineteen.”
He clears his throat softly and selects a stuffed panda bear as a pillow.
“Pretty sure this is the definition of robbing the cradle.”
I sit cross-legged beside him, always making sure some bit of me is touching some part of him. Skin to skin, always.
“Do you mind? Does it bother you?” Twenty years is a long time, but it doesn’t feel that long. Not at all.
Now he selects a dark chocolate truffle from the left side of the box and feeds that to me, too.
“I know this is fucking crazy, Lexie. But I want to be with you. I never want to be without you. I need you. I need this.”
“Me too.” I scoop my hair aside and lay down beside him. “But they’ll never agree.”
Marshall doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he gently takes the box of chocolates off his abs and places them on the bedside table. He strokes my hair and it feels paternal and possessive at the same time.
“They don’t need to fucking agree, baby.”
He takes my hand in his and rolls me onto my back.
Now straddling me, his knees on either side of my hips, his balls just grazing the tops of my thighs.
“Spit on that dick, baby.”
I gather up a yummy mouthful of saliva and lean forward, releasing it in a thick stream up and down his shaft. He repositions himself now again at my opening.