I Take Thee (8 page)

His hands were frantic as they grappled with his jeans, shoving them down to his ankles.

He gripped her bare ass, the fabric of her gown gathered at her waist, and quickly lifted her, not breaking the kiss, not willing to wait another second before taking her.

He could smell her like never before. The sweet, heady scent that pooled between her legs. It rushed through his bloodstream with the force of a tsunami. The primal urge to take her overcoming him.

He bit her lip as he thrust his hips and plunged. She sobbed into his mouth, nails raking through his back so sharply his shirt tore.

“Marcus.”

“Marly.”

He went still inside her, his kiss slowing to a thorough exploration.

“I hope you behaved yourself,” he said against her mouth, licking the seams of her lips before dipping his tongue into her warmth again.

“Yes.”

He turned, bracing her back against the door. “I’ve wanted to fuck you all day.”

Steadily increasing his plunges, he drove into her faster, pushing her closer to her peak.

His hands gripped her ass, and her breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts.

“Such pretty pink titties,” he cooed. Bending forward, his lips locked around a quivering nipple, his tongue swiping across the rigid pink tip. Her needy cry spurred him on, and he released that succulent pink crest only to suck the other into his mouth. “I love sucking on these.” He cupped the other with his hand, cramming it into his palm until he brought forth a yelp from her.

“Hmm.” His tongue swirled up the curve of her breast, up her throat, to her jaw, his lips parted wide over her skin. “I like licking you.” He licked her chin, dragging his tongue to her lips. “I like fucking you.” He licked her lips, his tongue strong and purposeful as it flicked out, then withdrew.

Her own tongue slipped out, following his until he sucked it into his mouth. She moaned with pleasure.

She was shoving her hips earnestly against his, nails digging into his biceps, her whimpers coming frequently now. As he shafted her with fast, rampant thrusts of his hips, he kept sucking on her tongue, swirling his own around hers, their hot, haggard breaths mingling.

Spasms rocked her in an instant, her eyes turning blind the instant he felt his own orgasm take him, shake him, rattle him down to the soles of his feet. He filled her with a spurt of warm, creamy cum, still humping her as they both shook with tremors.

Minutes later, once back from La-la land, Marcus set her down on her feet, an arm around her. On his way to the couch, he halted. “What the hell happened here, a war?”

His living room was…he couldn’t even describe the mess!

He could’ve sworn a whole bull stampede had been let loose in here.

“Nothing happened,” Marly quickly said, then she blushed beet-red. “Fine. I was restless.”

“Well good. Now we really need to replace the lamp you hated.”

She swung sideways to look at him, pouting like a little girl. “What about the glass top for the table?”

“Well that broken one is sure no use to us now, is it?”

She nodded, biting back a smile.

He was torn between laughing and playing daddy, and had to make an effort not to smile. He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Bad, bad kitty.”

Full of mischief, she quickly parted her lips and caught his finger between her teeth.

He groaned when she suctioned, sucking it in. She ran her tongue along the pad, and Marcus felt his blood rush down to his crotch.

Holy cow, he was up again.

“Okay, you’re forgiven.”

Damn, it felt good to be a man again.

* * * *

Marcus fucked her on the living room floor in the only space which hadn’t been littered by her restlessness. He fucked her in the kitchen after they had a quick, easy dinner. And then he plopped her down to her stomach over their bed, and fucked her ass like a horny, sex-starved beast. Marly screeched so loud for a moment, he feared the windows would shatter.

When he harshly, and very lustily, bit her shoulder, she came from the pleasure she received in that bite, and Marcus felt a string of semen shoot up inside her so strongly he felt completely depleted afterward.

It was as they lay on the bed, rendered motionless and speechless, that he realized now
he
was the one who seemed unstoppable. Although last night with a third party had been mind-blowing, he couldn’t help but feel damned glad he didn’t need any sort of assistance to pleasure his wife now. The weak, pleased smile on her lips filled him with pride and satisfaction.

“Baby, what did you take?” she asked as she rolled to her side to face him, clearly in awe of his skills.

“
All
little boys should eat their spinach.” He gave her a solemn stare, as if he meant every word when, truth was, he personally couldn’t stomach spinach, then he valiantly kept himself from gloating over his performance and smacked her rump. “Now get up, hon. We’re going to pay your mom a visit.”

“What?
Now
?”

“Yes, now.”

“Why?”

“Because I want answers, and I want them now.”

“But my mom doesn’t have an answer for anything!” Marly wailed as she rose.

“We’re going, M. Now get that cute little ass into a cute little dress
or else
.”

“Or else, what?”

“Just dress, baby!” Marcus thundered, grabbing his shirt.

Come hell or high water, or any sort of distraction like Marly in her jeans, Marcus
would
be paying old Mrs. Hennings a visit.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later and half way to Mrs. Henning’s house, it took all Marcus’s effort not to pull aside on the highway and find some nice, tall grass to hide in and fuck her. He almost had the urge to unzip his pants and pull out his dick and ask her—no,
beg
her—to suck him.

“I can’t wait to get home,” Marly confessed as if she’d read his mind, blushing prettily.

He stared at her seriously. “Baby, you have no idea.”

The last thing he wanted right now was to see his wacky mother-in-law. But Marcus needed some answers. Marly’s constant state of arousal was alarming, to say the least, and there was one big question in the back of his mind since this whole circus started.

Why?

It was on his mind as they walked up, hand in hand, to her mom’s porch and rang the doorbell. Mrs. Hennings had always been a strange woman. Strangely solitary, if you asked him.

Marly had always said her mom would rather talk to animals than to people. Marcus clearly remembered every time he’d been by Marly’s place as kids, he’d catch the woman doing something so uncommon, he hadn’t the foggiest notion of what, exactly, it was she was doing. After constantly being dismissed with a curt, “Not now, honey,” Marly had stopped asking her mother about her doings, and in turn, Marly had asked Marcus to stop questioning her about it, too.

Mrs. Hennings
had
no answers, but rather, questions about everything. Including her own existence in this planet.

If there ever was an alien living here on earth, it was Marly’s mom.

Marcus would step into their home never knowing what to expect, although usually, all he got was a question. “Why do you think the existence of the Pegasus hasn’t been proven yet, Marcus?”

His answer was always the same. “I don’t know, Mrs. Hennings.”

“I don’t either. But I’d
like
to. Hmm.” She’d tap the side of her lips as she drifted off to some unnamable place. “Yes, I think I would like to know. But a dove and a horse just won’t do so I need to come up with something else. Yes, yes, in fact I do…” As sudden as she came, she’d disappear, sometimes mumbling to herself, and always acting more than a little spooky.

Now, the sun burned onto their backs while they waited, until finally the door swung open to reveal a middle-aged woman with Einstein hair and a puzzled expression—the one the woman always wore. Her cloudy eyes cleared only slightly at the sight of Marly.

“Marly!”

“Hey, Mom.”

She hugged her daughter quickly, then turned to Marcus and pinched her lips closed with her thumb and forefinger. “Now, shh. They’re mating.”

“Who is, Mama?”

“A Lynx and a Leopard cat.” She ushered them inside, Marcus and his glower, Marly and her casual smile.

“I was just getting ready to send you all these boxes,” Mrs. Hennings pointed out, signaling to a copious amount of boxes stacked across the floor.

“My stuff!” Marly hunched down and began to rummage through the top one.

“Marcus remember this?” She took out an empty packet of M and Ms.

Marcus stared, somehow sensing it was a trick question. “Umm. No?”

“This is the MandM’s we shared when we went to our first movie! How can you not remember? What about this?” She held out a paper with a scribble.

“Can we save Memory Lane for later, honey?”

“Oh, pooh.”

Marcus had no idea where Marly intended to store all that, but he figured he could worry about it later. “Mrs. Hennings, we’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

“Bah. Talk, talk, talk.”

“It’s important,” he said, fighting the urge to clench his teeth.

“We’ll talk in the kitchen; I don’t want to disturb the animals,” she said as she guided them around the boxes and swung the door to the kitchen open. “I’m onto something here. It’s really very exciting. I think this time it’ll be a success…” she was saying.

Marcus ignored the sheer clutteredness of the kitchen and turned directly to his mother-in-law. “Mrs. Hennings, do you notice anything unusual?”

“Besides your visit?”

“Always so funny, Mrs. Hennings. I mean about Marly. Do you see anything unusual in her appearance?”

“No.”

“She’s got fangs.”

Her response to his news was a casual, “Ah.”

“Her nails have gotten sharp.”

And all he got from the woman was an emotionless, “Oh.”

“Mrs. Hennings, Marly’s in heat,” he said, direly stressing the last two words.

The older woman stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Well, of course she is, Marcus. It’s time she had a baby or two. What are you, sweetie, twenty-four?”

“I’m turning twenty-five this year, Mama.”

“Oh, dear, time does fly, doesn’t it?”

“Ma,” Marcus strained out. “I’m afraid you don’t understand. Humans aren’t supposed to go in heat, only animals do.”

She stared at him, her gaze eerily sharp now. “That’s because Marly’s one of a kind.”

“I know she’s one of a kind, that’s why I married her. What I want to know is why Marly has the hormones of a lioness inside her own freaking body!”

“Marcus!” Marly gasped. She was always shocked to hear raised voices. Marcus knew it was because she’d grown up in such a hush-hush household, with only the cereal box to talk to in the morning—because her mama sure didn’t say much.

“It’s all right, honey, I’m just talking to your ma here,” he said.

“Well, I should say so.” Mrs. Hennings ran her palms down the front of her wrinkled shirt and squared her shoulders. “That Marly should be in heat only proves one thing, that she’s her father’s girl—not that I ever had any doubts, mind you.”

“I thought my father died.”

“He did, honey. In Africa.” She lowered her face and mumbled what Marcus thought was a quick prayer to Lord-knows-who that woman prayed to! “Some man shot him to death, and I could do nothing to save him. Unfortunately.”

“Why would he have gotten himself shot, Ms. Hennings?” Marcus asked, both eyebrows already up in a dare.

“Why, because he was a shifter. A glorious man one day, turned raging lion by night.” She smiled wistfully, that smile she got only when she was doing something creepy. “I’ve never met anyone of the like.”

Of course she hadn’t met anyone of the like; this was absolutely fucking nuts! “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Marly screeched beside him. “You’re saying I’m the daughter of a…lion?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no! Of course not. You’re the daughter of a shifter, that’s an entirely different thing. Your dad was both. He was man and beast. Animal and human.”

“So should I expect one morning to wake up with a lion in my bed?” Marcus asked.

“Well I don’t know. She never fully shifted before, so I see no reason why she should do so now. Maybe she took that after me.” She grinned, a row of less than perfect teeth on display for his perusal. “But most shifters turn into beasts at will, so I’m sure as long as she doesn’t want to, she won’t. It all depends on how she became a shifter, and whether it’s in her genes, or acquired by some other means.”

“Oh. My. God!” It was Marly who said that, and she was shaking her head too fast in Marcus’s opinion. She’d gone so pale that Marcus felt himself pale just the same.

He took a step toward her, something tightening in his gut. “Marly?”

* * * *

If it hadn’t been for Marcus, who lifted her into his arms and carried her out to their car, turning the air conditioner on so that it could blast into her face, Marly was sure she would have fainted. She was sweaty, she was horny, and she was stunned. For a long time after their little “chat” with her mother, all she did was sit there in the car, as motionless as the steering wheel, and stare off into space. She was grateful Marcus seemed to understand her need for silence, and only sat beside her quietly, a steady hand settled on her knee as a sign of his support.

“I can’t believe all this time I’ve lived such a lie,” she finally said. She imagined him saying something like, “It took you a whole half hour to say that?” But he didn’t. Marcus knew when to be funny, and he knew when not to be.

Now, funny or amusing was not an option.

Marly felt devastated.

“It’s not a lie, Marly,” he said gently. “This is who you are. You’ve never been anything but authentic.”

“I’m a genuine freak, that’s what I am!” She hated that her voice broke, but she had as much control over it as over her newly revealed hormones—the ones so inherent to a shifter’s spawn.

“Baby.” Marcus cupped her cheek and turned her to face him so he could stare into her eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

Marly could barely find the courage to look him in the eye. She was afraid of what she’d see there, or that she’d see her fears come to life in them. She stared at the collar of his shirt instead and drew in a valiant breath. “I’m afraid what you’ll think of me.”