Page 47 of My Always One

I have my condo.

It doesn’t make sense that we both have our own homes, and we’re sneaking into a seventy-year-old abandoned building to have sex.

Marshal pushes the door. It barely moves, but the squeak of the metal on the concrete is deafening. Using his broad shoulder, he pushes harder. The loud scraping noise sounds like an alarm alerting anyone within a mile of our whereabouts.

With a flashlight app on his phone, Marshal shines a light inside the old building. It appears as abandoned as it was when we were young. Cobwebs drape from the metal beams, in the corners, and over the painted windows. My pulse is thumping like it would at the fair in one of those fake haunted houses.

I cling to his hand. “Do you think there are animals?”

His flashlight scans the floor. “Nothing bigger than a mouse or a squirrel.”

“A mouse?”

He pulls me through the partially open doorway. With his phone flashlight off and only moonlight for illumination, the room comes into focus. On the one wall is a tool bench or at least I think it used to be. It’s a wooden shelf, about three feet wide, attached to one of the walls. Behind it is a board peppered with holes, similar to one my father has that contains hooks and tools. Marshal brushes the surface and confirms that there’s nothing on the bench that breathes.

Then in one quick move, he grasps my waist and lifts me to the bench. My feet dangle as I stop worrying more about mice and bugs and focus on his deliberate movements.

“You were so strong, Sami, facing that asshole.” One by one, he removes my sandals.

His words encourage me as he lifts my tank top over my head.

“I wanted to take you right then and there.”

He unlatches my bra, laying it on top of my shirt.

“God, I love these tits…” Marshal’s words fade as he leans forward and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth.

Both of my nipples bead as he cups my breasts and continues sucking one and then the other. I lean back, holding myself on my arms, longing to pull him closer. “Marshal…”

“I’m going to eat you, Sami.”

My insides twist as my pussy clenches. “I thought we were planning that for later at my condo.”

He touches my lips. “Did that sound like I was asking your permission?”

Oh shit…

My core twists tighter at his change in tenor. This isn’t the tone of my lifelong friend. This is the Marshal Michaels of lore, the one others have talked about.

“Marshal…”

He reaches for the button on my jeans, expertly snaps it open, and peels down the zipper. Leaning forward, he brushes his nose near my core and inhales, the sound filling the old building.

“Lift your ass, Sami, I have honey to eat.”

My arms quiver as I do what he says. My jeans and panties move down and soon join my bra and shirt in a pile. Marshal grins as he lifts my feet to the edge of the bench. With my knees high, he pushes them apart, exposing my most private parts.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he says as he scans my exposed sex.

The modest part of me is glad the lighting is dim, but as my core clenches and I grow wetter, there’s no doubt that I’m less embarrassed and more aroused.

I gasp as Marshal’s tongue swipes my core.

“Hmmm.”

I close my eyes as he teases my clit. I’m not sure exactly what he’s doing, only that his attention in one area is setting off nerve endings elsewhere and in all directions throughout my body. My scalp tingles, my skin covers in goose bumps, and my nipples harden to diamonds. Marshal is a starving man and I’m his feast.

My arms give out as I fall to my back.

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