Page 186 of Overcast

I clear my throat, grasping for self-composure that I have little of because this isn’t one-sided.

It’s mutual as hell.

Taking half a step in the direction of the kitchen, Marty is in my space, nudging me back into the wall.

My spine gently lays flat against the hard surface, coming face to face with the man who will drop everything going on around him just to be near me.

God, I love that about him.

As stupid as it may seem and be, Marty makes me feel like nothing else in the world. He’s addicting and desolate at times, but all in all, he makes me smile. He makes me feel safe and wanted. He creates self-esteem that I never had before. He initiates my body to react, crave and want to belong to him.

“Can we do this, maybe after breakfast?” I ask stupidly because let’s be real, I’d let Marty do whatever he wants no matter how much I may disagree or argue.

I am moronically in love with this man for all the wrong reasons except for the ones that generate what he’s transformed me into.

Marty tucks his face into the crook of my neck, composing my eyes to close on their own. The tip of his tongue skates up to my ear, enclosing his lips around it and well aware of where my weakness lies—my killshot. The place that drives me crazy in lust and blind passion for him.

“I just need five minutes, baby.” The mixture of the stubble on his face, the way he still smells like us from earlier this morning, and his hard body against mine, I’m having a really hard time finding words to tell him that I am, in fact, really starving.

His hand on my waist slithers downward, letting his middle finger edge along the waistband of my shorts.

He’s waiting for me to say no.

To break from him and demand that I get fed.

It’s something I should do.

Something that I should take in spurts—him—and not let Marty sink his dick inside me every time he needs to release. No matter when or where.

Except I like him using my body in reckless abandon. I also don’t mind the dirty things he whispers. I always yearn for another night, day, mid-afternoon—anytime with him.

“Are you wet for me yet?” he taunts, his warm heavy breath tickling the inside of my ear. “I’m a selfish bastard when it comes to you, Stormi. I’ll let you starve for a little longer just so that I can have you.”

“Are we back to acting like Emric again?” I mutter before Marty chuckles, his chest rumbling against mine as he pulls me closer.

“I am Emric, baby. He just wants to come out and play with the pretty blue-haired angel who’s been taking Marty from him.” I let the back of my head fall to the drywall behind me, making myself more vulnerable because the answer is always the same. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gripping my waist, he maneuvers me towards the stairs, letting my butt hit the step. He’s immediately on his knees in front of me, yanking at my bottoms to work me in whatever little plan he has played out in his head.

In this position, overlooking the room, Marty looks like he’s my servant, and I’m the queen above him. He’s on the hardwood floors, more than likely uncomfortable, wanting and needing to please me.

My panties are pushed aside when his mouth brushes along my clit, and his tongue lapses from my core all the way up in a slow, languid hike to the place he knows he’s going to score. My moan is an unrestrained need of pleasure as he does it one more time before sucking me between his lips.

Spreading my legs wider, Marty becomes uncalculated, something he never is. Just the reality of the situation that I can make him lose almost all of his control is invigorating. It feels powerful and compulsive, wanting to see how far I can push and prod him into becoming so overwhelmed with lust that we both combust with each other.

“Fucking perfect,” he utters against me, his thumbs digging into my thighs. He’s on a high, wound up, restless and about to lose his entire shit. It’s how he keeps himself grounded because he won’t come up for air until his name is on my lips as I come. “Now I know what all the fuss is about.”

I roll my eyes, a smirk composing off my lips at his roleplay.

Sure he goes by two different names, but to me, he’s just a combination of them now. And if Emric isn’t fully satisfied, then it means that I haven’t fully done my job yet.

Leaning forward, I shove Marty by his shoulder, prompting him out from between my legs. He raises his chin to peer up at me, confusion lacing his features as I scoot down the stairs, noticing that his cock is already out of his jeans.

God, this man.

I flick my attention to his hazels. “Lay down.”

“For—” I nudge him back again, getting him to sit on his ass at the bottom of the stairwell.

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