“God, little bird,” he muttered and picked her up gently, laying her on the bed and coming in behind her.
Sliding himself back inside of her.
Sliding home.
“I love you,” he whispered into her hair holding her to him, their bodies connected, as they came down.
That was her Mark.
“You have to try and get a handle on your green.”
“What?” he asked, confused.
“I love you, Mark.”
“I love you too little bird,” he said, distractedly.
He wasn’t getting it.
It was later in the evening, and after their anger fueled session earlier, he had kept her in bed and continued to fuck her.
To make love to her.
To ravish her.
She didn’t mind. Not in the least bit.
But now she had a point that needed to be made.
“No, Mark.” She came up on her elbow to look down at him.
He was laying back, his hand propped behind his head, a contented look on his face. Put that with his mussed-up hair, and the sexy look on his face, and she felt the desire between her legs stir.
Pushing through it she continued.
“I love you, Mark. Not anybody else. You saved me when I literally thought that I was going to die. That there was nothing left for me. You saved me. For a year you helped me to become stronger, and in the process, I found not only my strength but I found you.” His gaze was searing her, showing that he knew what she was getting at.
Please Mark.
She needed him to understand this. She needed it for her. But more importantly she needed it for him.
“You are my Mark. And nothing is going to take me away from you.”
He studied her his finger coming up to play at her hair.
