Page 56 of A Wedding in a Week

It’s velvet again. So, so velvet, like the skin covering his cock that shifts with each stroke.

His eyelids flutter down, shuttering him from me, but only for a moment. Then he’s on the move, climbing over me, and I’ll always be a fan of him in my lap, but he keeps going until he’s off the sofa, and I don’t know why, or where he’s going.

Hayden’s here?

He can’t be because Marc shoves his jeans all the way down, stepping out of them and bending over me just as fast to pull at my cargo trousers. I must help him. Must lift up as he tugs. I must also kick off what I’m wearing harder than I mean to because something across the room topples—no clue what, no care either, not when Marc pulls off his T-shirt.

He’s so much more than wiry. He’s strong enough to lean on, and maybe I’m that for him too when he almost topples. I sit up and he grips my shoulder, steadying himself while pulling his socks off, his cock flushed and bobbing. His chest is flushed too and fuck me, I love that shade of pink now. Who cares if it clashes with the red in his hair? It’s close to the same shade as the rose in the teacup he saved from breaking.

I can just about see it on the kitchen table from here. I also see a flicker of movement but it’s only on his laptop screen, that presentation still on a loop until Marc stands in front of me, making a start on unfastening my shirt buttons, only I want something more than him getting me naked right now—his cock is right there so I get my mouth on it.

Marc lets out a raw sound. A wild one. He also clutches my shoulders with both hands, and we’re back where we started, only I’m the one who can’t smile around a full mouth.

He looks down as I look up, and I don’t feel pain. I only feel him—the flex of his hips, the tickle of his pubes as I get him wet and take him deeper, the curl of his body over me as I swallow—and that’s what I want most, for us to knot like the twine holding that buttonhole together, only tighter.

I want that so much, I’m back to full strength, and I’d wonder how that was possible after all my kitten weakness if it hadn’t happened to me once already, and not only this morning.

Hadn’t I hung upside down over sure death and found the strength to hold on? I won’t miss a second chance to do the same for Marc, and I’d tell him so if I wasn’t busy making the most of this break from numbness to wrestle him down onto the sofa and underneath me.

He doesn’t go down lightly or give up without a tussle, and I’m not sure why I love that, or how he must know this isn’t the time to treat me like I’m fragile, but we end up in a rough and ready sixty-nine with me above him. It’s awkward and messy. It’s also better than I know how to describe, and I guess it is for him too when he lets out a sound I feel all the way to my balls.

They pull up, and he cups them before curling his fist around the base of my cock and squeezing, but there’s no stopping what that hum kicks off. Precome must flood his mouth. He coughs and then makes the most of me lifting away by wrestling his way on top and around to kiss my mouth, his tongue salty, all while jacking us both, and I’d sell the farm in a heartbeat for a lifetime of this with him.

I would. I’d sell the farm, lock, stock, and barrel.

For once, thinking the unthinkable doesn’t sound like quitting. If anything, it clamours to a new crescendo.

I’d sell the fucking lot at a loss.

Marc breaks off, saying, “Yeah?” and I’d worry I’d spoken aloud if he didn’t add, “You want to like this?”

There’s no want about it. I’m already on a cusp there’s no way back from, close to an edge I’d take a running jump off as long as he leapt with me.

I nod, and Marc grunts, “Good.” His breath hitches in short stutters. “Because I…” He stops jacking us off, his hand loosening before tightening. Then he jacks us faster. “I really…”

He doesn’t finish. Speaking, that is. He comes, his spunk shooting to my chest like it knows where my heart pounds, not missing beats, thank fuck. It’s as strong as I am. His climax must be as well—I have to hold him upright, but only for a moment.

Marc’s a mess, his chest heaving, blotched with hectic fuchsia, and I also glimpse the slideshow still running on his laptop until he bends close, and I stop seeing anything but him.

He tightens a hand around my cock again, and if my heart stops now, maybe I’ll be okay with my last breath coming with this climax. It rips through me with a yell.

Marc blinks down at me, suddenly still, and I don’t know why until he repeats what I’ve shouted.

“Stay?”

He settles on top of me, heavier than he looks, but I take his weight and listen, not for the tick of the clock or for an engine approaching. I don’t register sheep bleating or the cries of gulls in the distance. All I hear is his quiet promise.

“I’m not done trying.”

21

I’m not done trying either. By the time late afternoon rolls around along with a four-wheel drive towing a loaded trailer, I’m determined to try even harder. But I’m also back to weak as a kitten. I can’t regret why, not when Marc goes out to meet Hayden but keeps looking back my way.

Hayden looks too, watching me over Marc’s shoulder while leaning against his vehicle. He says something that makes Marc’s laugh ring out. Hayden also moves closer to him, and Jess woofs, warning him off, the good girl. But then she sniffs at a hand he offers, and her tail wags like he’s the butcher come to visit.

Maybe it’s a point in Hayden’s favour that he crouches to fuss her. By the time I slip into my boots and leave the farmhouse to join them, he’s straightened up to talk with Marc again, but he tracks me approaching. I wouldn’t say he’s wary but he’s definitely watchful, saying what he sees, plain and simple, when I join them.

“Is that why Rebecca mentioned you being in hospital recently?”

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