Marcun (Sky Warriors Book 1) Read online

  “Straddle me,” he told her. “I need me inside you.”

  Already? Didn’t he need recovery time? The man was inhuman. But she wasn’t about to complain.

  “Wait, we need condoms. I think I have some from when I went to my cousin’s hen’s night.”

  “A hen’s night?”

  “Yes, you know, a night to celebrate before you get married.”

  She searched through a couple of drawers then pulled up a small foil package. Thank God. She ripped it open with her teeth and then walked back to him, kneeling next to him on the bed. She held the sheath gingerly.

  “I’ve never actually put one of these on before.” She’d always gotten an injection to stop herself getting pregnant. But after Barry left, she just hadn’t seen the point.

  She tried to slide it onto his shaft, realized it was around the wrong way then turned it, smoothing it down his cock. Whew. Done. She saw him bite his lip and hoped she hadn’t hurt him.

  “Take me inside you.”

  Hell, yes.

  She then straddled his hips, pressing her hands against his chest. Reaching between them, she grasped hold of his cock to guide it inside her. She fumbled a little and stared at him, embarrassed.

  But he didn’t look impatient or angry. Instead he placed his hands under his head, clearly telling her that she was in control right now.

  It made her love him more.

  No. Nope. No, she wasn’t doing that. She wasn’t falling in love with him. This wasn’t what this was about. It was one night. Maybe more than one night if she was lucky. But it was just sex. He was her employee. Her neighbor. Although maybe not either of those for much longer, which was probably just as well. Sleeping with her employee was not her best idea, that was for sure.

  But she was not falling in love with him.

  Jesus, that was absolutely the last thing she needed right now.

  She pressed down, feeling his cock fill her. Her passage stretched and she had to pause. It was almost too much, he was almost too big. And it had been a while for her.

  He slid his hand out from behind his head and circled her clit with his finger. A deep groan escaped her as she relaxed and he slid even further inside her.

  “That is right. Relax. Take me inside you. That feels so good.”

  Good? Good didn’t come close to describing it. She leaned forward, placing her hands on his chest once more as she pulled up then drove down. His hands slipped around her waist to guide her. Up. Down. She stared down at him, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes, seeing the way arousal had sharpened his features, darkened his eyes.

  And for the first time in her life, she felt sexy. Like a goddess.

  She finally got it. She got why people wanted this. Why they desired it. He moved his thumb over her clit, around it, flicking faster. She kept pace until she dove over that edge again. Her pussy clenched around his shaft and he grabbed hold of her, pulling her up then slamming her down, over and over, until he shouted out loud as he came inside her.

  She slid forward, lying on his chest, her skin coated in sweat, her breath coming in fast pants, her whole body a giant pile of mush.

  “I don’t want to move,” she told him, her eyes drifting closed.

  He wrapped her arms around her in answer and she sighed in contentment as she drifted off.

  10

  Pleasure swamped her, made her whimper. She attempted to press her legs together to try to ease the ache. But something held them firmly apart.

  Her clit was tapped, circled, and then something slid inside her pussy. Hard and long. That’s when she realized she wasn’t in the middle of some sexy dream. That this was real. She opened her eyes with a gasp.

  Oh my God, it had really happened.

  She glanced down her body to find him between her spread legs, his tongue working magic on her clit as he drove his fingers in and out of her passage. No wonder she couldn’t close her legs, he was an immovable force of nature.

  And he was still here.

  She couldn’t believe it. She’d woken once in the night and thought he was gone. Disappointment had flooded her before sleep had pulled her back under.

  But he was here now. Pleasuring her. What a way to wake up.

  “Marcun,” she moaned, rolling her head back and forth.

  He paused and she regretted saying anything.

  He resumed teasing her clit until it was full and throbbing, so sensitive that she thought she’d explode.

  He drove his fingers deep inside her, curling them to find that spot inside her that he’d driven his cock against last night. Several times.

  Her hips rose as she cried out, her body giving way under the onslaught of pleasure.

  He kept licking at her, drawing her juices into his mouth until she couldn’t take it anymore, until it became too much.

  “Marcun,” she cried out. “Enough! Enough!

  He drew away, and lay on his side next to her. He cupped her breast. Not teasing or playing, just the possessive touch of his hand against her breast.

  “You’re still here,” she said when she could finally think again.

  “So I am. Did you not wish me to be? Shall I leave?”

  “No, no,” she replied with a smile. “I’m glad you’re here. Really. Very, very glad.” She yawned. “I feel like I could keep sleeping.” She turned to look at the clock, sitting straight up in alarm. Her head pounded, and she held it between her hands, as though attempting to keep it from rolling off her neck. Shit, what had she been thinking last night? “Oh God, I slept through my alarm. I am so late.” She tried to rise and he grabbed her, pulling her down.

  “It’s Sunday.”

  “Sunday? The bakery is closed.” Yes. She could stay in bed all day. With him. “I’ve never been so glad for a day off.”

  She snuggled in against him, reaching for his cock. “That means we have time to laze around in bed.”

  The corner of his lips turned up. She liked making him smile. Then she stilled as another thought occurred to her.

  “Oh fuck, it’s Sunday.” She sat up again. All thoughts of his delicious cock fled.

  “Is that not what I said?”

  “You don’t understand, I have to go to my Mother’s today. She’s expecting me for dinner.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “And that is a problem?”

  “It is when it’s my mother. Priscilla Summers is the queen of her little kingdom and we’re all her unwilling servants. She’s like a chess player, moving all her pieces into place and then she’ll pounce. Actually, I don’t know if the Queen pounces in chess. Anyway, the analogy doesn’t matter. The truth is, she will manipulate you into doing what she wants and the worst thing is, half the time she’ll have you thinking it was your idea. I’ve worked her out over the years, but no doubt she’s worked her charms on some poor unsuspecting man who thinks he’d going to a nice dinner, only bam!”

  She clapped her hands together.

  “Bam! Is she going to kill him?”

  She stared at him wide-eyed. “You know, you are really focused on killing. You should probably find someone to help you with that.”

  “I do not need help with killing.” He sounded almost offended.

  “Not with killing. Thinking about killing.” She gave him a wary look and slipped further away. If she wasn’t naked under the sheet, she would have stood up. It was at times like this when she remembered she’d known him less than a week. She’d spent a lot of time with him, though. He was kind of clueless and yet lethal at the same time. It was a crazy combination. And obviously irresistible, since she’d jumped into bed with him.

  “You look frightened of me. You laughed before.”

  “I thought you were joking around.” She swallowed heavily. “You don’t look like you’re joking around now.”

  He flashed her a smile. “I am.”

  “I don’t know exactly where you grew up; maybe that was part of everyday life for you. You know the mysterious thing goes
so far before it just becomes annoying.”

  “I come from the East.”

  “Yeah, well, the Middle East is kind of big. What city? What town?”

  “What did you mean by bam!”

  She sighed. Seemed she wasn’t getting answers and her gut was telling her she needed them. Yesterday. Like before she slept with him would have been a good idea.

  She looked around the room, spying the bat on the floor with a wince. “I’m really sorry I tried to attack you and then I acted like such an idiot.” She winced as bits and pieces of memory flooded back. “I’m not really used to drinking.”

  “You will not be drinking that stuff again.” His voice was firm. “The male across the hall said that alcohol can make you go blind or put you in a coma.”

  She winced. “Eddie? He saw me, huh? Yeah, I seem to remember that.” She placed her hand over her eyes. “Oh my God, was I dressed just in my underwear?”

  “Yes. He seemed to enjoy looking at you.”

  “Great, I’ll have to avoid him for a while. Won’t be a worry if I have to move out of here. I can’t believe I am going to lose the bakery.”

  “Is there not something you can do?”

  “There’s one thing. But it involves asking my mother for money. Which means I will owe her. Owing my mother something is never simple.” She sighed.

  “What male were you talking of?”

  “Huh, oh my mother is trying to marry me off again. I’m not even divorced yet. I had to file for abandonment since I can’t find him anywhere. God knows where he went. He could be on the moon, harvesting tomatoes for all I know.” She paused. “Although I doubt it. That would be too much hard work and the moon is pretty austere; not many people live there.”

  She looked at the bed, then at him. “I suppose I should have made that clearer before we slept together. Sorry, it’s just I really don’t consider myself married anymore.”

  “But your mother wants you to marry again?”

  “Yep, she doesn’t think I can be happy on my own. Nope, it’s more than that.” She sighed and leaned back against the headboard. “She won’t be happy until she can be proud of me again.”

  “She is not proud of you?” He sounded so surprised that she had to smile.

  She gave a half-laugh. “I’m not sure she’s ever been proud of me. Maybe when I married Barry. Yeah, she almost seemed happy with me then. It took me a long time, probably until Barry left me to realize that I was never going to make her happy. Never going to make her proud. Because I couldn’t be what she wanted. A little clone of her.”

  She ran her hand over her hair. “Unfortunately, she got a little clone of my dad. They married when she was nineteen. That was her biggest ambition, to marry well. My father adored her, so she chose well. Not sure if she felt the same way about him but she looked after him, supported him. Her life consists of working on committees, doing charity work, and meeting with her friends for bridge and tennis and other boring crap. That’s what she wants for me. She’s never had to work for a living. She’s never worried about money. She has someone who cooks and does the housework. She wants that for me. She thinks it’s the only way I’ll be happy. So she keeps trying to find me a husband.”

  “Why do you not tell her no?”

  “You don’t think I haven’t tried? I know exactly what she is doing and still she gets the best of me most of the time. You have to meet Priscilla Summers to understand.”

  “All right, I accept,” he replied.

  He rose and she stared at his tight, firm buttocks unable to help herself. He was still wearing his shirt. Her curiosity stirred. What was he hiding beneath that shirt? And why wouldn’t he show her? The way he spoke sometimes she worried that he’d once belonged to some gang. Maybe drugs or something. Perhaps there was a distinguishing tattoo on his back. That would make sense.

  Nervousness tightened her stomach and she forced herself to breathe through it. She knew him. He’d never once threatened her. Maybe he’d come here for a new beginning. Maybe the gang wouldn’t let him leave and he was hiding from them.

  “You accept what?” she asked, remembering what he’d just said.

  “Your invitation to dinner at your mother’s house,” he replied easily as he stretched. “What time will we need to leave?”

  “Oh … um, we’ll leave about four when the pollution goes down.” She sighed as she watched him.

  Wait, she hadn’t invited him, had she? Well, he seemed to think she had and she needed to dissuade him from that idea. Quickly.

  “Marcun, you don’t want to go to my mother’s house,” she told him. “I don’t want to go to my mother’s house and she’s my mother.”

  “You said I should meet her.”

  Not exactly. And definitely not like this.

  “You don’t understand what she’s like. What her friends are like.” They’d chew him up and smile the whole time they were doing it. She couldn’t subject him to that.

  “If she tries to match you with a male then you can tell her you are already mating with a male. Me.”

  Okay, so this had gotten a bit crazy. Him? He wanted her to take him home and say ‘hey Mom, no need to play matchmaker, I have a man. It’s not an actual relationship, we’re just fucking. But he’s damn good at it. Oh, and he may or may not have been an enforcer for a drug lord in some other life. But isn’t he cute?’

  Yep, that would go down well.

  God, she was so confused. And she hated that sparkle of hope inside her. As though she really wanted him to be her boyfriend. She cared about him. Last night she could remember stupidly thinking that she might love him. That wasn’t the case. She wasn’t a teenager to fall in and out of love so quickly. She was grown woman with responsibilities and she wasn’t even divorced yet. He was just really good in bed. That was all. It had been a long time and she was confusing lust with love.

  Wow, that made her sound like an idiot. And shallow.

  Sex wasn’t everything. Looks weren’t everything. All of that could disappear and you still had to live with the person. Still had to love them.

  And if Marcun was fat, bald, ugly and couldn’t get it up? She’d still want to be with him. God, she had bad.

  So bad she was actually going to take him to meet her mother.

  She peered out of the hovertaxi’s window at her mother’s house later that afternoon. They’d ended up running too late to catch the AirTrain. The expense of taking a hovertaxi all the way from Brooklyn made her wince. It would completely wipe out her emergency account. Not that she had much in there. Certainly not enough to cover her tax bill.

  She didn’t want to go in there. Didn’t want to meet whatever poor man her mother had dragged along in the hopes of marrying her off. Again.

  If she wasn’t in such a financial mess she might have made some excuse and stayed at home, in bed. With Marcun.

  She glanced over at him. She couldn’t believe he was here with her. Didn’t understand it. But there had been no talking him out of it.

  She didn’t want to ask her mother for money. Even the thought of it sent chills through her body. It wasn’t as simple as asking for something. It was an admittance that she couldn’t do it alone. That she needed help.

  She blew out a deep breath.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked Marcun again. “You can just stay in the taxi and head back home. She doesn’t know you’re coming.”

  Not that she could really afford the return trip.

  Marcun shook his head then climbed out of the car. She followed him.

  The driver held the scanner out the window and she waved her wrist over it, wincing as she saw how much would be taken out of her account.

  Oh well, it was either a hit to her account or having her mother reprimand her for being late for the next twenty years.

  She knew which she’d rather.

  “Well, this is it,” she said with fake cheer. She pointed at the large, white stone house. It was at the end of the
cul-de-sac, which had always made her mother happy. She felt like it set her above the rest of her neighbors. Eden just felt like it was a mansion set among other mansions in overly-manicured grounds.

  “How many people live here?” he asked, looking around at the number of hovercars already parked in the semi-circular driveway.

  “Just one. My mother. It’s way too big for her, of course. But it’s a status symbol. She can say ‘look at me, I must be rich because I have a ridiculously oversized house and I need a housekeeper just to keep up with the dusting.’ Crap, I can’t believe so many people are here already. We’re not late but I was supposed to come early to get changed.”

  “Changed?” he asked.

  She wrinkled her nose as she started up the driveway. “My mother likes to buy me clothes.”

  “And you do not appreciate that.”

  She stopped and turned to him with a sigh. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” well, it kind of was, “it’s more that we have very different tastes in clothing.”

  “Then tell her no.”

  “Oh, my friend. You are going to have to find this out for yourself, but no one tells my mother no.”

  He drew his shoulders back. “I will tell her no for you.”

  She reached out and grabbed hold of his hand. “No. Thank you for wanting to stick up for me, but it’s best if I deal with my mother myself. Your best bet for getting out of this unscathed is to do as little talking as possible.”

  “You do not wish me to speak?”

  “I’m just telling you that the best way to survive these next few hours of hell is to nod and say nothing. You know, it’s not too late for you to leave. I’ll call a taxi for you and you can be back at your apartment in twenty minutes. It will be like this was all a bad dream.”

  “I do not see what is so bad about this. It is not a war zone.”

  “Oh, it will be a battle and I know who will win.”

  Just then the front door swung open and Eden let go of his hand, plastering a smile on her face as her mother stepped out onto the wide porch.

  She stared over at her mother. They didn’t look alike. Where Eden was quite tall and rounded with red hair and pale skin, her mother was petite with dark hair that was usually tied back in some intricate plait. She wore a pearl necklace and matching earrings. A pale-yellow skirt suit set her coloring off perfectly. The skirt went down past her knees and the jacket cinched in at her tiny waist.