Page 68 of Mark & Don't Tell

I hate being in bed with clothes on, so I kick off my shoes, yanking off my shirt and dropping my pants.

Daria’s fingers ghost over my ribs. “Did they hurt?” Her eyes travel over every tattoo, snagging on the freshly tattooed doe.

Maybe it was a little premature, but I’m already all in. If she rejects Pack Kelly, well, I’ll cross that road if it ever comes to that. With the way she’s staring at the tattoo, a mix of awe and lust, I have a feeling I did the right thing.

“Only the one on my back.”

She looks at me through her lashes in question, and I turn for her, showing her the giant piece that took almost a year to finish. A yacht being destroyed by a magnificent kraken. What was meant to be a happy vacation turned into a disaster. The tattoo represents a dark time I’d rather not think about when Daria is here.

As she strokes a tentacle, she presses her lips against the base of my spine, peppering kisses all the way up until she rests her cheek on my shoulder and hugs me, hands lacing together over my belly button. “Do you know how amazing you are?”

The question, the compliment, steals my breath, and I struggle to find enough composure to answer. I’m not used to this sort of kind affection.

She kisses my shoulder. “Even if you are a stalker,” she says, moving her mouth to my ear, “I’m happy you’re my beta.”

“Little doe,” I rasp, turning in her arms and claiming her lips with a hungry growl. She instantly opens. Fingers digging into my back and yanking me closer, Daria begs me for more, and there’s no denying her.

Not when she makes me feel like I’m worthy. Not when she needs me. Not when she makes that little gasp of delight as my hands grip her ass.

If she wanted, Daria could destroy me, but I know she won’t. Something about her is gentle. She’s not cruel. She’s not playing games. This is who she is, and her words are real.

Easing her back onto the bed, I slip one of my hands between her legs, drawing my fingers over the thin material of her sleep shorts. She whimpers and bucks into the touch.

“Can I have you like this?” I ask, nudging her nose with mine. “Can I make love to you?”

She trembles beneath me. Fragile. Delicate. Breakable.

Pulling back, I look her in the eye. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her legs fall open. “Don’t break that promise,” she warns.

“Never,” I tell her, easing her shorts and thong down her legs as I tease my mouth over her neck, trailing my lips along the line of the choker she’s still wearing. A pleased hum rumbles in my chest. Other than to shower, I don’t think she’s taken it off.

Her hand finds the band of my boxers, and she yanks them halfway down, grabbing my cock and guiding it to her center, too impatient to wait for me to take them off. She smooths the tip of my shaft through her slick heat, watching me watch her draw it down to her entrance.

Fingers falling away from my length, she extends her arms toward me, and I drop my forearms onto the bed as I thrust all the way in. The air whooshes out of her lungs, but she hums in approval as her arms wrap around me.

With her hazel gaze on mine, I draw my hips back before thrusting again, loving the way her eyes widen when I hit her G-spot.

“You feel like home, little doe.”

“Vic.” She says my name like a prayer.

“I’m here.” I pump into her again, reaching one hand back to run it down her soft thigh. “I’m right where I need to be.”

She tips her hips, giving me better access to that lovely spot inside of her, and I grind against it, grunting when her walls flutter and pulse around my length.

“Harder,” she demands.

I give her exactly what she wants, slamming my hips into hers until her mouth parts. A primal urge to have her neck exposed to me has my fingers diving into the tangle of her curls and wrenching her head back.

“Yes,” she rasps, cunt clenching hard around my girth. Her slick coats my skin. The lavender of her scent is thick in the air, invading my senses and drawing my mouth to her throat.

I suckle at her skin, panting as I impale myself inside of her. She moves her body in time with mine, meeting my hips, thrust for thrust, until I’m hitting the softness of her G-spot over and over.

“Yes, Vic, please, please, please,” she begs.

“Fuck, little doe, I can’t wait to fill you with my cum.”

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