need and scorching lust, part revenge, part passion. This was him reclaiming what he thought heâd lost and giving what he thought Iâd asked for.
Every thrust was fast and hard. Every stroke was deep and long. Friction burned between us, and my pleasure built too fast to be savored, too hot to be held. By the time he shuddered against me, within me, slamming me into the wall over and over, shaking the entire shed with our fierce union, my own intense, tight coil of pleasure had eclipsed all sight, smell, and sound that wasnât Marc.
He collapsed against me, his shirt damp with my sweat and his. I clung to him, still throbbing aroundhim, breathing hard as my heart pounded, stunned, and finally hopeful.
Then, without a word, he lifted me and stepped back, withdrawing in every sense of the word. He set my bare feet on the dirty floor and zipped his pants up. I stood there naked and in shock, staring after him as he shoved the door open and let in a frigid draft. âMaybe now youâll remember.â
Then he was gone, and the world was cold.
Â
I got dressed slowly, all alone, reeling. I could still feel echoes of him, deep inside. I could still smell him on my skin, taste him on my lips. But Iâd never felt more alone in my life. Abandoned. Dismissed.
My shirt and jeans were covered in dust. I brushed them off as best I could, but still looked like Iâd rolled in it. Was that what he wanted? That I smell like him and look like weâd just rolled all over the ground? Had I been marked? Reclaimed, then left to wonder what the hell just happened?
Stunned, I crossed the cold yard, plodded up the steps, and opened the kitchen door slowly, to keep it from creaking. I neednât have bothered. Marc wasnât there. But Jace was.
âWhat the hell happened?â he demanded in a whisper, as voices floated in from the living roomâthe others still discussing the upcoming vote.
âIâ¦â I brushed past him, headed for the soda Iâd poured half an hour earlier. I gulped from the glass, trying to figure out what to tell him, and nearly choked when a melting sliver of ice wedged in my throat.
âYou smell like him, he smells like you, and youârewearing half the damn mountain on your clothes,â Jace hissed. âI guess I know what happened.â
âIâm not sure I know what happenedâ¦.â The glass was slick in my grip, so I set it down, still trying to gather my thoughts. âBut I think I just got a dose of my own medicine.â
Jace scowled. âIâd say we both did. Marcâs back in the game.â
I drained my glass and poured a refill. âIâll be right back. I need a shower.â But the floor creaked when I stepped into the hall, and Marc heard it. Heâd probably been listening for it.
âYou two boycotting the meeting, or are you gonna get in on this?â he called.
I groaned on the inside. Marc was going to make me pay. He was going to humiliate me, like Iâd humiliated him, by making me show up for an important strategy meeting smelling like him and covered in the dirt theyâd assume heâd rolled me in. Everyone would know what weâd done, if they didnât already.
He was making a statement. Staking his claim. And Jace and I would have to live with it.
But with any luck, if I let him have his momentâlet him publicly air his grievanceâheâd be able to work past some of his anger. Please let him work past some of his anger â¦.
âFaythe?â my father called, clearly oblivious to the game Marc was playingâso far.
âYeah. Iâm coming.â Dialing up my courage, I brushed more dirt from my clothes with my free hand, then marched back through the kitchen and into the living room with my head high. Or at least not drooping. Jace followed me and took up a post in the doorway, looking angrier than Iâd ever seen him.
Marc sat on the arm of the