“What kind of books are you writing?” His brows shoot upward.
“The interesting kind.” I wink playfully. “So anyway, I’ve done so much research that I’d like to put it to good use.” I grab the pillow from his lap.
“What kinds of things are we talking about?” he asks, licking his lips. His eyelids turn heavy.
I look up and meet his gaze. “I want to watch you do it to yourself.”
“You do?” He swallows.
“Yes.” I nod and scoot away from him to the side of the couch.
He watches me for a few heartbeats, lifts his butt up, and pulls his pants halfway down to his thighs. I never thought a man with his pants down like this can look so freaking sexy. His cock is fully erect, veins wreathe his impressive length. He slowly wraps his long fingers around it, giving himself a couple of lazy pulls before bringing his hand back to the base. Another pull and back again. A squeeze.
The head turns a darker shade, and he tugs on it. Hard. I nervously lick my lips and snake my hand under Mark’s T-shirt I’m wearing. Finding the wet, aching spot between my legs, I begin rubbing it in gentle circles. Mark’s eyes dart down, and he tugs on his cock harder. Squeezes the base stronger. Moves his hand faster.
I move my hand faster too. My breathing turns labored, and I gasp. His powerful chest expands with every breath. His arm flexes with every move. The head of his engorged cock begins glistening, and he speeds up the tempo. I match my movements to his.
“Fuck, Alicia.” He groans as he shoots thick, white strands all over his stomach and chest. With every spurt I see, I press my finger harder and rub faster. A few breathes after, I follow him with his name on my lips.
I think I just discovered my new favorite activity.
* * *
We fall into the comfortable routine of two people who have been in a relationship for two hundred years.
Every night, we sleep at Mark’s place. He leaves Ghost with me when leaves for his shift, and I write steamy novels about hot couples pleasuring each other in his rocking chair. My upcoming book will have a lot ofwatchinginvolved. I wonder why.
Now I know it’s him who made all the beautiful furniture in his house, and my chest fills with pride every time I look at it. His hands are masterful. And they’re mine.
Sometimes I bake something and drive it to the station, where everyone showers me with gratitude as they fight over the goods. But the only approval I truly seek ishis, and every time his eyes close with pleasure after a bite, I’m left filled with happiness.
The first time I went there was weird. I was scared and felt out of place, but when Rachel saw me, she came and gave me a warm hug, as if I were her long-lost relative. She then introduced me as Mark’s girlfriend. I remember how scared I was to look at Mark after she said it, but he just came over and gave me a quick kiss. Since then, I was “one of them.”
Every single time he comes back home from a shift, I have a dinner waiting for him. When I told Josie about it on the phone—her project got postponed, and so did her trip to Maine—she laughed and lovingly called me “a housewife from the sixties.” I laughed with her but didn’t stop doing it. Seeing Mark’s face light up after a long shift when he finds Ghost and me—wearing fuzzy socks and a big sweater—in the kitchen cooking for him, makes up for all the trouble.
He’s been missing the feel of home all along, and I’m ready to give it to him. No matter how cliché it sounds, I found my own home with this man and his furry baby. I bought the latter a doggy toothbrush, because really, he’s constantly at his jewels.
The few times Mark went to the Cat and Stallion, a local bar, to meet with his friends, he invited me to go too, but I wasn’t ready to bump shoulders with strangers. Yes, I’m better now, but with Mark. Well, mostly. I’m okay going to the station when he’s around. Plus, no one touches me there. I still don’t like it.
I went with him once. It was the first and last time. Buddies from his team were getting together for drinks, and he invited me out with him. Everyone brought their significant others, and it was pretty fun. No one tried to involve me in their conversations, something I was terrified of, or question me like most boyfriend’s friends would do. Instead, they shared silly jokes and old stories. It was cool. Until someone bumped into me from behind, and I freaked the fuck out.
Spilling my Coke all over myself and Mark, I jumped up with wild eyes and ruined the fun for everyone else. They don’t know my story, but they’ve seen a lot of bad things happen to other people, so I’m sure they could figure out something was wrong with me. Mark was trying to convince me that nobody paid attention to the little “situation,” and to be fair, even now when I go to the station, nobody looks at me any differently, so he might be right. But it doesn’t cancel out the fact I’m not ready to socialize like that. Not yet.
I talk with my mom every single day on the phone and even visited them a couple of times while Mark was out, but I haven’t invited anyone to my house yet. Especially since I’m never even there. I’ve just seemingly found myself, and our relationship is so new that I’m scared to mess it up by introducing it to someone.
Jake took a long leave and decided to stay longer at rehab before taking a few weeks to travel “to find himself.” He certainly needs it, considering the man isnowhated by a few (many) locals. To explain the extent of Jake’s situation better… I’ll just say that even my mom is ashamed of him, and she’s never ashamed of her kids.
I have no idea how he was able to get such a long “vacation” with his boss, the sheriff, but he didn’t tell anyone when he’s coming back.
A huge improvement happened with Justin. He’s calling me everyotherday instead of twice a day, and it makes me feel like he believes I’m getting better. If he thinks so, then I probably am.
Though to be completely honest, I still don’t like anyone being behind me. We’ve tried to have sex that way once, but I totally freaked out, and it took Mark a hot minute to calm me down. Mark always makes me so hot and bothered, and I was sure I wouldn’t be scared ifhewas the one behind me. Turns out, I was. And it took me a few days to stop hating myself for ruining the moment.
Today is the day I ask Mark if he wants to go to Thanksgiving dinner with my family. Mom was being Mom, and she figured I might have someone new in my life. It wasn’t too difficult figure out since I’ve been all bubbly and happy these days.
I asked Mark a couple of days ago if his sister is coming to spend the holiday with him, and he said she’s going to her friend’s house in Los Angeles for the holidays, which leaves him by himself. He mentioned that he’s picked up Thanksgiving shifts at the station a couple of years in a row, since he didn’t have anyone to celebrate it with. I want this year to be different for him. If he doesn’t feel comfortable coming to my parents’ house, I’ll just stay with him here, in his cozy place.
When the doorknob turns, I rush to the door and jump into his arms. He grabs me by the ass and hauls me up, swallowing my lips in a hungry kiss.
