Iwake up alone in bed and happy but a little confused the next morning after Marcus’s unusual treatment in the middle of the night.
In fact, I would almost swear I was dreaming, but no, I was wide awake when he kissed me, when I encouraged him to enter me without protection, and when he moved inside of me slowly, like he never wanted to leave.
While I might enjoy rough sex normally, I loved every second of Marcus’s tender kisses and slow love making.
Neither of those are things I ever thought I would say about the Savage King, who usually gets off on abusing my ass.
Although, I’m finding that I don’t mind the idea of him leaving his handprint behind as much as I did originally. And his belt and paddle? Well, neither are things I would want to endure often, but once a month I think I could handle, enjoy it even, especially what happens afterward. The idea of never knowing when he’ll use them on me is a huge turn on.
Marcus shouldn’t feel guilty about what gets him hot, but it does, obviously. Why else would he wait on me like a servant, tending to my every need afterward?
I should probably tell him that I like what he does to me so that he’ll quit letting the guilt eat him up. I will next time because I don’t want him to feel bad. I want him to be happy, and I want to keep staying here with him.
But even after our conversation yesterday, the amazing night, and the lack of evidence that he’s seeing anyone else, I still think he’s hiding something from me.
After his shower that morning, he comes back to bed and kisses my lips. When his damp lips move down to my neck, tickling me, I cradle his head, holding his mouth to my skin.
“Good morning to you too,” I tell him with a laugh.
“Last night was…” he starts and then just groans.
“It was,” I agree with a smile, happy that words aren’t needed. It was intense and amazing, apparently for both of us.
“It was the first time I’ve ever had sex without the urge to spank you first,” he says against my throat. “That probably sounds stupid, but it’s just how my dick has worked for as long as I can remember.”
“Yeah?” I ask, glad that he’s opening up to me, loosening the knot of worry in my gut.
“Yeah,” Marcus replies before he lifts his head to look at my face.
“And why do you think that is?”
“Why I didn’t feel the urge, or why I have those urges in the first place?”
“Both.”
“Well, all I know is that the spanking kink started when I was nineteen, living on my own in my first apartment. There were these neighbors in the building across from mine, a man and his girlfriend or wife, I never knew which, but I could hear them all the time, and once in a while I could even see them together, you know, in the middle of the act. The guy, he would wear her ass out until she would be sobbing, begging him to stop and…”
“And?” I ask, hanging on to every word from his mouth.
“She would beg him to stop and fuck her.” He glances away, toward the window as if he’s remembering looking out a different one. “After the first time I watched them, every thought I had about sex, every fantasy, was the same one. I wanted…needed to mark a woman’s ass that same way, to make it mine, at least for a little while. That’s the only way that I could come, no matter what else I tried to think about first…”
“Like an obsession?” I ask.
“More than an obsession. It became a compulsion, one that the woman I was dating at the time, and the ones after her that I tried to be with didn’t enjoy, not even a little, until you.”
“I do enjoy the spanking, but I’m not sure if I could handle much of the belt or paddle.”
“I know. You shouldn’t have to suffer every time we’re together just because it’s what I want to do. I’m glad you tolerate as much as you do. But last night…” His palm slides over the side of my face, his thumb brushing my lips. “I didn’t want or need anything but you. I woke up from a nightmare about losing you. I don’t want that to happen because I hurt you too bad or too often.”
“You’re not going to lose me, Marcus,” I assure him as I kiss his thumb. “But you can’t expect to keep me a prisoner here.”
“I know. I won’t take your keys anymore when I leave, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And if you don’t want my palm or my belt…”
“Trust me, I will tell you,” I say with a smile.
“Okay. Good.”
He leans down to kiss my lips and then starts to straighten, but I hold his face in my palms. “You know, the first time we had sex you didn’t hit me.”
“I didn’t?” he says, brows drawn together in thought.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Only because your ass was too sore for it.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you didn’t need it then either.”
Maybe,” he agrees with a smile. “So, I’ll see you later?”
“Where are you going?”
“Out,” is his one-word response.
“How long will you be gone?”
“A few hours.”
“Okay,” I say with a sigh as I let him go. I can’t make him tell me all of his secrets.
Without another word, he walks out of the bedroom. A moment later, I hear the door shut behind him.
Now, I think it’s finally starting to make sense why Marcus has been keeping me away from the Savage Kings. He must be afraid of losing me to one of them, which is crazy. I don’t want anyone but him.
And I know just the way to show him how I feel, a way to prove to him that I won’t be leaving him anytime soon.
All it takes is a quick search on my phone for the best reviewed tattoo studio in town, one that preferably opens early, and then I just have to get ready.
Since Marcus didn’t take my keys with him today as promised, I pick them up from the kitchen counter. I even leave him a short note in case he gets home before I do, then head out the door.
“Hi, can I help you?” a woman in black jeans and a holey t-shirt with her nose and eyebrow pierced asks while I walk around, admiring the drawings on the wall.
“Hi. Do you have any artist that can do a small tattoo today?” I ask her.
“I could probably do it if you’re ready right now,” she replies with a smile. Holding out her palm, she says, “I’m Shyla.”
“T.J.,” I tell her as I shake her hand. “And all I need is a pencil and transparency paper to copy the image.”
“Okay, sure,” she agrees.
A moment later and I have the Savage Kings logo up on my phone. Enlarging it to a size that’s big enough for the details of the bearded skull king to show, I place it on the front counter, the paper over it, and get it traced.
I add the words on the top and then I’m all set.
“If you can do this with a sort of blocky text like the ones on my patches?” I ask as I show the design to the artist who has been waiting behind the counter.
“Are you absolutely sure?” she asks.
“I’m sure. This isn’t my first ink, obviously,” I say with a smile.
“Yes, but a name is…”
“I know. But I’m okay with it being on my body even if I never see him again,” I assure her, and it’s the truth.
Marcus may not be a permanent part of my life, but he has been an important one, helping me bridge the connection between my father and the MC. He’s been fun to be with, making me feel so good I doubt any other man could ever fill his boots.
