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[Mark] Teacher's Pet (Chap 72)

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After sensual, heart-clenching I-love-you morning sex, Mark and I finally drag ourselves out of bed to brush our teeth. Since I’m done before him, I lay back down and turn the TV on, flipping the channels. I stop when I see Mark on a local news channel, images of him on a red carpet, assaulted by camera flashes, look all hot and sexy in a tux, his stubbly jaw making my heart stop.

“LA’s sexiest CEO Mark Tuan to tie the knot!” The female voice-over announces. A stupid grin stretches my lips. The video morphs into a picture of him and I walking hand in hand in the city on a casual date.

“Sources say he proposed in front of his longtime girlfriend Abigail Kraige’s family and friends while they were celebrating her graduation.” The voice explains. How do the medias do this? Where do they get their informations?

“The now doctor in psychology posted a picture of her exquisite diamond ring on Instagram, confirming the news with her caption ‘best graduation present ever’ hashtag engaged.” The voice says, and on the screen appears the picture in question, my left hand putting my ring on perfect display.

“The boss of Tuan Holdings posted this picture on his account with the caption 'She said yes! #sohappy’.” The voice adds, as they show a picture of us I had no idea someone took. I have my hands on his cheeks, and we smile against each other’s lips. Bubbles of excitement and joy pop in my belly.

“Even if we knew from the time we discovered they had each other’s name tattooed that Mark Tuan was ruined for other women, we can now officially say he’s off the market. Let’s cry together ladies.” The voice says more sadly, and they show a picture of us on one of our rare vacations. Mark is in his swimming trucks and I’m wearing a bikini, so we can see our tattoos very clearly.

“We wish the best to the happy couple.” The voice concludes, as a last picture of us at a gala flashes across the screen. They move to another news, and I’m left with that stupid smile on my face.

“Look at you.” Mark teases, and when I look in his direction, I find him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his bare chest, his boxers hanging on his hips in a way only he can make them do. My future husband.

Giggling out of happiness and delight I leap out of bed and wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly. He slides his hands up and down my back, kissing me back, his soft lips slowly moving against mine. I playfully bite his lip, and he groans. He grabs the hem of my T-shirt and yanks it over my head, leaving me naked. He claims my mouth again, walking me backwards before taking my hips in his hands and throwing me onto the bed. I don’t even have time to register what’s happening to me that he’s already hovering over my body, taking my hands and pinning them on either side of my head. He gazes down at me, his eyes blazing.

“Here are the rules.” He declares.

“Rules?” I breathe, blowing my hair out of my face.

“You are forbidden to wear anything until I say so. I don’t want anything between you and me.” He says, watching me intently. He wants me to walk around naked? I stare up at him, breathless. He frees me from his grip and stretches across me to grab the satin slash he used to bind me yesterday.

“Give me your wrists.” He orders. My libido explodes instantly. Yes, please. Trying not to squeal in excitement, I gather my wrists and offer them to him.

“And you only get out of bed when you have to.” He says, binding my wrists together. He’s not going to keep me in bed all day, is he? Would he do that?

“Why?” I ask as he brings my wrists abive my head and ties them to the bed, leaving a gap so he can flip me over as he pleases.

“Because we’re going to fuck all day.” He declares, letting his hands slide down my body. Desire thrums inside me.

“All day?” I whisper.

“Until I say otherwise.” He nods.

“What about the gala tonight?” I ask, though I honestly don’t give a fuck about it.

“We’ll go.” He reassures me. Oh.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” I ask.

“No.” He replies. My face falls.

“No?”

“I’m hungry. Do you want some breakfast?” He proposes. He’s being cocky again. Goddammit!

“I want you.” I reply.

“Something edible, Abby.” He scolds playfully.

“Your cock.” I mutter. He throws his head back on a belly laugh, and I smile, loving the sound. He bends and kisses my forehead, chuckling softly.

“Don’t move.” He jokes, winking at me before walking out of the bedroom. I sigh deeply. Why do I feel so giddy? Of course it’s mostly because I’m so happy to be engaged to this man, but there’s something else. It’s strange to have him like this, messing around without having homework on the back of my mind.

I think I’m going to love this weekend, having him for myself, carefree, without any responsibilities. Buy what am I going to do next week? He’s going to be busy with work, and what about me?

For six years, we had everything almost scheduled. We were both surprised and upset about the sudden change in our lives, and that caused lots of big fights, but we pushed through. We agreed on dedicate one afternoon to nothing but us. These afternoons where always very intense, and I’m not only talking about sex. We did have sex three or four times a week, but our afternoons were always more intense. That’s when we started playing.

When Mark’s company blew up four years ago, he got as busy as I was, which made us find some kind of balance. He’d work when I’d have to turn him down, and sometimes I’d refrain myself from coming to him when he was busy. I’d never ask anything, because I would have felt bad for disturbing him while he was working when I’d turn him down because of my homework. I think Mark got used to me being busy, because he got busy himself. It was hard, because Mark is a needy man, and I have my clinging times too, but his needs have changed. Does he need me less now that he’s used to me not having time? He still needs me, because he asked me to be his wife, but have we changed? How are we going to do now?

We’ll think abiut that later. I push those thoughts to the back of my mind.

Mark comes back a few minutes later with a big bowl and a glass of apple juice.

“I hope you don’t mind if we share.” He says, dropping the glass on the nightstand.

“Onky if you make me come.” I tease, and he smirks, sitting on his heels between my legs. He scoops a spoonful of a white creamy mixture with strawberries inside. I open my mouth and he pushes the spoon inside, letting me taste the sweetness. “Good?” He asks as I swallow. I nod.

“Is that Greek yogurt?” I ask. “Yes.” He says, giving me another spoonful. He drops the bowl on the nightstand next to the glass and takes the blindfold from yesterday.

“I don’t think you need your eyes to eat.” He declares, sliding it over my eyes, plunging me into darkness.

I feel him shift, and then something cold pokes my lips. I open, and it’s another spoonful of yogurt and fruits. I swallow and feel something warm and wet running across my upper lip. His tongue. He licks away the remains of yogurt on my lips.

“Want some juice?” He asks, his voice low.

“Yes.” I breathe, and he says nothing for a moment, doesn’t budge. Oh, so we’re playing.

“Good girl.” He compliments, and I feel him shift. My breathing quickens, my body reacting to his compliment. I have no idea how he’s going to make me drink like this. With a straw?

I feel his lips brush against mine, and when I open my mouth to kiss him, he pours the liquid inside, taking me by surprise. I open my mouth, letting him feed me every last drop, before swallowing messily. It trickles down my chin and on either side of my face. Mark laps everything away, before doing it again.

Something cold and wet pokes at my lips again, and I open my mouth, it’s a strawberry. I bite it, and then it’s Mark lips against mine. I understand he’s feeding me from his mouth, juice splashing between is. I drips down my chin and my neck. I feel his tongue in the dip base of my neck, and he traces a wicked line up to my chin, cleaning the strawberry juice. I shiver.

He places another strawberry at my lips, but when I open my mouth to eat it, it’s gone. He trails it down my body, between my breasts, my navel. I gasp as he slides it between my folds, the tip moving up and down against my slit.

“Oh, god.” I moan softly. The strawberry mives up and down, tantalizingly. I beg with a mewl, and he removes the fruit.

“Mmmh. Strawberry and Abby, sweet, musky yet a bit salty.” He murmurs, and I understand he’s eaten the fruit coated in my arousal. I want a taste too. In fact, I’m desperate to taste myself.

“Want some?” He proposes, and it takes me a subhuman not to scream.

“Yes.” I breathe. He brings another strawberry to my clit, pressing firmly, moving it in circles, making sire it’s completely coated in me. The friction and the movements send hotshots of electricity to the pit of my stomach, and they travel down between my thighs.

“Please.” I whisper. He brings the strawberry back to my mouth, and I bite, juices exploding in my mouth, and I taste a sweet saltiness. When he places the spoon at my lips again, I lift my chin.

“No more?” He asks, and I shake my head. I’m full.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and I nod.

“I guess it’s my turn.” He declares, and a groan escapes me. So I’m just going to lay there while he eats?

Suddenly I feel something cold drip on me. I gasp at the coldness. It’s yoghurt.

“You’re my plate.” He declares, and I feel him drop a big spoonful of yogurt between my breasts. My pulse picks up pace, and my nipples harden instantly. He smears the yogurt with the back of the spoon, adding coldness. I whimper as he moves the spoon in circles, heading south at the same time.

He drops some more yoghurt on my belly button, and smears it downwards again, across my navel and my pubis. I start to pant in anticipation. He drops more yoghurt on my pubis and smears it downwards, coldness meeting the heat of my throbbing clitoris.

“Yes.” I breathe. God, that feels good. Is he going to make me come with a spoon?

“Not a word, Abby. Plates don’t talk.” He murmurs, moving the spoon in circles, spreading coldness everywhere. I groan, feeling myself getting moist. He stops, and I stifle a frustrated groan as I feel him shift again, the the cold spoon is there again, on my left nipple. I gasp and bite my lower lip to prevent myself from pleading. He smears yogurt there too, all over my left breast, and my nipples pucker because of the stimulation. He repeats the process, coating my right breast with yogurt and fruits, and I squirm, my back arching off the bed, my breathing heaving.

“This is going to taste so good.” He says, and I here him drop something on the nightstand, the bowl I guess. He trails his tongue across my navel, lapping up the yogurt, and the contact makes my whole body alert. By the time he reaches the valley between my breasts, I’m squirming impatiently, wanting his mouth on my breasts. He takes my right nipple in his mouth and sucks hard, making me whimper. With the tip of his tongue, he traces a circle around it, teasing me. He does the same to my other nipple, nibbling and biting, sucking hard, and It’s hard to stay quiet.

He runs his tongue across my navel, and anticipation makes my puls quicken some more, my breathing heave, and my legs shake. He trails his tongue downwards, but stops right above my slit.

“Please…oh, please.” I mewl. This is getting too much. If I could move, I’d grab him by his hair and push his mouth against my clitoris.

“If you speak again, I’m not letting you come at all.” He warns, making me from. I really want to insult him, but I want to come more.

“Did you hear me?” He adds, and I don’t reply, because plates don’t talk. Buy he speaks to his plates. He brings his mouth down once more, and licks an evil trail up my slit. I suck my lower lip in and nibble at it, suppressing a moan. He flattens his tongue and laps up, and my hips fly up against it. I’m panting, not being able to vocalize making it harder to handle the pleasure.

He takes my clitoris between in lips and sucks hard, making me arch my back and open my mouth in a silent scream. I pull on my restrain, trying to find a way to express my agony through something other than word. When I don’t feel his breath on my anymore, I suppress a 'please’. I want to beg. He can’t leave me like this just now.

Just when I’m about to break his rule, I feel his colossal length work his way inside me. I gasp and ball my fists, tensing all my muscles so I don’t make a sound. All the air drains from my lungs as he fills me up.

“You can vocalize now.” He murmurs, and I let it all out.

“Mark!” I moan.

“That’s right.” He complements, bringing his lips to my nipple. He gently circles his hips, his shaft shifting inside perfectly, his tongue swirling around my nipple. I sigh, surrendering to the mindless pleasure. He rolls his hips again, sensations traveling to my core, feeling like a harsh burn.

“Mark.” I buck my hips, impatient. “Please, Mark. More.” I beg.

“More?” He asks, his hips drawing another circle, and I feel his breath against my lips.

“More.” I whine, grinding up against him, adding more fraction. He smothers my moans under his mouth attention, and I kiss him back instantly, hungry and desperate. He gently rears back, and then curls his hips, driving back inside in a slow thrust. I bite down his lip.

“Easy.” He coos, making me mewl with another measured thrust.

“Mark.”

“Slow, baby.” He murmurs against my lips, kissing me tenderly, pressing his chest onto mine. The remains of yoghurt make my skin sticky, but it rubs perfectly against his as he slidrws up and down my chest, thrusting at a slow pace. I don’t want to take it slow, I need him to fuck me, tip me over the edge, make me come, make it happen.

“I want to savor you.” He whispers against my lips, his kiss calmly the frenzied rhythm of mine. He keeps up with his slow, calculated thrusts, but the hammering sensation between my thighs becomes unbearable. I need relief.

“Please, Mark.” I sigh against his lips, my mind lost in haze because of pleasure.

“What do you want?” He asks softly, his laboured breath against my mouth.

“I want to come.” I breatge more quietly, the possibility of being indulged making my mind calmer, but not my body. “Please, make me come.”

“Like this?” He grabs the back of my knees and draws them up, tilting my hips, making him reach deeper. He grinds down hard against me, pushing himself all the way in.

“Yes!” I cry, my eyes rolling back. He growls and kisses me again, more passionate, more hungry, and he starts to pound into me.

He pushes his tongue inside my mouth, moaning loudly, his hips slapping against my butt, the noise accompanied by the sounds of my wet walls sliding up and down his length. I’m messily wet, and I’m not even ashamed. Mark pounds into me, hard and deep, and it’s good, it’s perfect, it’s all I need. I tip over the edge, falling and falling, screaming his name for help, losing control. I explode in an internal firework, shaken to my bones, the shockwaves making my toes curl and my mind go blank.

“Fuck! Oh, baby…” Mark groans as he hits his own high, his whole body jerking against mine as he comes violently. He collapses on top of me, breathless.

“I love you.” He murmurs, burying his nose in my neck.

“I love you more.” I pant. Keeping is face against my neck, he reaches up and pulls the blindfold off my eyes, letting blink them open. He lets out a contented sigh and stays still.

“I want to touch you.” I murmur. He drops a kiss on my shoulder and shifts, slipping out of me and undoing my bounds. As soon as I’m free, I reach up and run my hands up his stomach. He brings his face down to mine and kisses me adoringly, pulling me up against him before falling onto his back, dragging me on top of him. I nuzzle his neck, content, satisfied and happy. I’ve missed this, the carefree sex, him and I fucking whenever we wanted. The idea of having that more often now that I’ve graduated fills my heart with joy. I know I’ll get it for the rest of my life now, but a little break from everything to have lots of sex won’t hurt. I know he can’t give it to me though, because of his work. Should I ask anyway? What would he say? I mentally shake my head. I can’t make demands now. I’ll just have to enjoy our Fuck day and deal with how I feel on Monday.

“We need a shower.” He declares. I hum, but make no effort to move. “And other sheets.” He adds. I hum again, hoping he’s just thinking out loud and won’t disturb the moment.

“Alright, I get it.” He says, and I can hear his smile as he picks me up in his arms. I wrap my legs around him as he rises, and he carries me to the bathroom, where he gives me one of our baby Koala bear shower.

Fuck day is good. Fuck day is tiring. After multiple mind blowing orgasms, I’m exhausted, my sleepy body wrapped around Mark’s. My eyes are closed, and my mind disconnected from present. Everything grows distant, I’m falling asleep.

Something troubles my mind, and uneasiness is wrapped around my heart. What’s going on?

“Shhhh.” A familiar voice whispers. Mark.

“I need to get some work done. Sleep.”

I’m soothed now. I drift away.

-

I wake up in an empty bed, my greedy hand finding nothing but cold, fresh sheets as I try to find my body heat provider. I blink my eyes open, effectively finding Mark’s absence. Where did he go? Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I get out of bed, throw on one of his T-shirts, and adventure myself out of our bedroom. As I walk down the hallway, I hear his deep voice coming from his office. He’s working. He’s working on our Fuck day. I feel a pang of disappointment, but I know I can’t voice it. I bet he has been in this situation countless times because of me. I press my ear against the door, wanting to know if he’s really busy and if I can go disturb him.

“Out of all the folders I gave you, you had to mess up with this name!” His voice booms through the door, his anger palpable. I jump slightly. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so angry about something at work.

“Now he represents fifty million dollars to me!” He shouts. I hear him sigh deeply, probably listening to what his interlocutor has to say. Mark is a scary boss, controlling and demanding, but he can also be very patient. He knows how to surround himself with the bests, he can smell talent, and he can be very accommodating when he’s kept satisfied. He hates firing people. He employs more than five thousand persons, and he feels responsible for every single one of them. It pressures him, knowing that if he does something wrong he’ll make all theses person unemployed.

“Incapable…” He mutters. Jeez, he must be really mad.

“Oh no, Letitia. Don’t bother.” He grinds out. He’s speaking to his personal assistant. What did she do? I thought she was very capable. Too curious to visually gauge his anger, I open the door the slightest bit. Peeking, I watch him pace up and down, in nothing but sweatpants. From the shape of his crotch, I sense no underwear.

“You don’t take care of my business anymore, you’re fired.” He snaps, before ending the call. Oh! Poor woman. He sighs deeply again, circling his desk and slumping down on his chair. He locks his blazing eyes with me, and they soften instantly.

“Hey.” He says softly. What a change of tone!

“Am I disturbing?” I ask cautiously.

“No. Come give me my little thing.” He orders softly. I execute instantly, walking in and closing the door behind me. I make my way around his desk and he pulls me in his waiting arms, sitting me on his lap. A cuddle. He calls it his little thing. Sometimes he’d call from work to get a cuddle.

He buries his nose in the crook of my neck and inhales sharply. I gently run my fingers in his hand, wanting to soothe him.

“You don’t like firing people.” I murmur, trying to save Letitia.

“She fucked up big time.” He grumbles.

“Tell me about it.”

“You’re going to hate me.” He whines.

“Never. I love you, Mark.” I reassure him, though I have no idea how I could be concerned.“But does it have something to do with me?” I ask.

“A man named Owen Sullivan-”

“From the Sullivan hotels?” I ask, and he nods against my skin.

“We’re negotiating a deal. I’m trying to buy his shipyard. I sold the other one to buy Sullivan’s, it’s bigger.” He explains.

“Letitia briefed me about him before I broached him. You know, like his hobbies, how many children he has, his wife’s name, the usual stuff. But she forgot to tell me one thing.” He says.

“What is it?” I ask softy, and his grip tightens around me.

“He’s Ellie’s stepfather.” He says rapidly. My heart stops. I haven’t heard this name in years.

“And she’ll be at the function tonight with him.” He adds. No, way! It’s been years since I saw her, and the last time I did she was after my man. I don’t know if it’s still the case. It could be, because Mark is rich, famous and successful, he’d be a fantastic arm candy. But after all those years, she could have turned the page.

I don’t know how I feel about the possibility of running into her tonight. What I am sure of, is that I’m going to streak my claim.

“I’ll be there too. You’re mine, I’ll let her know that.” I declare, and he emerges from the crook of my neck.

“You’re not mad?” He asks hopefully.

“No.” I reassure him, and he smiles, relived.

“Thank god. You’re the best, Abby.” He murmurs before kissing my cheek.

“Does it mean she’ll be around a lot?” I ask.

“Probably. But you know you don’t have to worry.” He says.

“I don’t worry. I trust you.” I murmur.

“Thank you.” He replies. I lean down and kiss him, slow, teasing. I gently suck on his lower lip, running my tongue across it, and I hear him sigh in content. Encouraged by the sound, I shift so I’m sitting astride him, my legs on either side of his. Run my hands ups his biceps, his shoulders, his neck, pressing myself against his bare chest. He pulls away with a groan.

“I thought I told you not to get out of bed. And you’re clothed.” He remarks, even though I’m slowly getting wet, my lady parts pressed against his crotch. My eyes widen as I realise I’ve broken his rules.

“Barely.”

“I can’t see your breasts, nor your pussy. I said I didn’t want anything between you and me.” He counters. I squirm uncomfortably.

“You’re clothed too.” I retort.

“The rules weren’t made for me.”

“Then I’m making the same for you.” I declare.

“New rule: you don’t get to make any rules.” He counters. I pout at him. This is unfair.

“Lose the T-shirt.” He orders, and as unfair his rules are, I’m inly too willing to comply. I obey, lifting the cloth over my head and throwing it on the floor.

“That’s better.” Mark watches me intently, sliding his hand between our bodies. He cups my sex, running a teasing finger between my folds.

“This is mine.” He declares. My head rolls back, and I close my eyes, relishing the sensation.

“Please.” I whisper as his finger finds my clitoris in a light caress.

“Why did you get out of bed? I told you not to.” He asks, removing his hand and pulling my eyes back down to his.

“You said unless I needed to.” I murmur.

“What do you need?”

“You.” I breathe, and he smirks.

“Who am I to deny you?” He asks, holding his arms open in a humbling manner. Who he is? The devil.

“I’m all yours.” He declares, and it takes me no time to start and help myself to the delicious buffet his body is.

-

Once he has tucked himself back in his sweatpants, Mark pulls me back down on his lap, wrapping his arms around me and pushing his face in my neck.

“I like Fuck day.” I state.

“Fuck day?” He snorts against the skin of my neck.

“Fuck day.”

“I like Fuck day too.” He murmurs. Wr fall silent again, and then something occurs me. The wedding. He’s not really expecting me to marry him in a month, is he?

“Mark?” I call.

“Hm?”

“We can’t organize a wedding in a month.” I declare.

“The hell we can’t. We will.” He mumbles against my neck.

“Come on, be realistic. You’re busy with work, and I’m going to find an internship-”

“You don’t have to find it now.” He snaps, pulling away from me to look up at me.

“I want to start working.” I say slowly, to the child he is.

“You’ve been working your ass off for six years, Abby. A break won’t hurt.” He says.

“I don’t want a break.”

“We’ll you’ll need one, because we’re getting married in a month.” He mutters. Where is he going with this? He’s not expecting me to stay home until the wedding, is he?

“So you’re telling me not to work.” I say.

“Yes.” He snaps. Okay, this is too much. I let him decided how I come, when I drink, but not if I work or not. That’s to control. That’s male chauvinist dictatorship.

“You think you have that power on me.” I mutter.

“Abigail.” He warns.

“Who do you think you are?”

“Don’t get bratty with me.” He grinds out.

“You’re being unreasonable. You don’t decide if I work or not. I don’t have to obey you.” I mutter, glaring at him.

“I want to have some time with you.” He explains.

“What about what I want?”

“You don’t want to spend your days fucking me?”

“No.” I lie, scrambling off his lap. “In fact, I’m done with you for today.” I declare, bending and picking up his T-shirt, before turning on my heels.

“So god help me Abigail if you don’t get your ass back here-”

“Fuck you.” I mutter, throwing the T-shirt back on.

“Get that T-shirt off!” He barks. I stop dead in my tracks and turn to him, anger emanating from every single of my pores.

“Make me.” I mouth. He stands, and glowers at me, his hands on his desk.

“One.” He starts. He’s counting to three? Oh, please! This is ridiculous, and infuriating.

“Two.” He says. Alright, I’m out of here. I don’t want to deal with him. If he thinks he’s going to scare me with this.

“You’re ridiculous.” I call over my shoulder, storming out of his office and slamming the door closed. I walk back to our bedroom where I intent to sulk. I here the door of his office swing open, and I know he’s following me.

“Three.” He says, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around. Before I know it, I’m swung over his shoulder. I scream, placing my hands on his hips for support.

“Let me go!” I kick him in the stomach, but it doesn’t seem to affect him. He strides inside our bedroom  slamming the door closed.

“Put me down!” I scream, swatting his behind. He swats me right back.

“Ah!” I squeal. It stings! A wave of fury sweeps through me, but the feeling is unfamiliar. How long has it been since I’ve been so mad at him? Since we fought like this? He goes into the dressing, and I struggle desperately while he looks for god knows what. I think he’s opening our play box. If he thinks he can torture me with sex, he’s holding his breath. I’m not letting him touch me. He tries and I safeword.

“You’re a fucking boor, Mark. A dirty chauvinist.” I mutter to his back. He slams the box closed, but I can’t see what he took out.

“And you’re a real pain in the ass.” He retorts, walking back to the bedroom. He’s going to torture me.

“Put me down!” I yell. God, it feels good to scream. I can’t remember the last time I hated him like this. Have I stopped living for six years?

He throws me on the bed, and I bounce, my hair plying everywhere. Huffing and puffing, I try to brush it out of my face just as I feel him hover on top of me. He sits astride my, pinning me down. While I’m still struggling with my hair, he grabs my hand and snaps something around my wrists. The noise of cold metal makes me freeze. My heand is pulled up over my head, and I’m cuffed to the bed.

“Mark!” I scream, watching my hand in the metal handcuffs. I look back at him, at complete loss, and he tears my T-shirt apart.

“I said nothing between you and me.” He grinds out, proceeding a pair of scissors. The bastard! I could safeword him, but what’s the point? He’ll find a way to get what he wants. Scowling, I let him cut the T-shirt open, and he pulls it out from under me before tossing it to the side. Happy, now?

“Take the cuffs off.”

“Not until you say you won’t work.” He snaps. The palm of my free hand twitches. I want to slap him.

“Do you even hear yourself?!” I shout.

“I’ll keep you like that until the wedding day if I have to.”

“That’s called sequestration!” I utter.

“Call it whatever the fuck you want.” He grinds out.

“Paging Dr Davis, please!” I shout. I’m sure his psy will want to know about his chauvinist tendencies.

“You crazy woman!” Crazy woman? The infuriating boor! I don’t want to spend my time calling him names, I want to get straight to the point and make him realise how ridiculous he’s being.

“Me? Crazy because I want to exercise my damn rights?” I retort. “I’m not going to spend a whole month doing nothing, waiting for you while you work and spread my legs when you come home.”

“That’s not what I want!” He cries, offended. Oh, is not?

“Then what is it that you want that makes you think you can forbid me to work?!” I shout back. He growls, expressing his fury, and then he crashes his lips onto mine. Our teeth collide, but then his tongue invades my mouth, aggressive and hungry. Once again, he’s expressing his anger. Well I am angry too. My tongue meets his challenge, and I kiss him back, hard. I am mad at him, so fucking mad, but as always my body’s response doesn’t listen to my head. Desire explodes inside me like the forth of July.

“You.” He groans against my mouth, shifting so he’s laying between my legs. He presses his body against mine, his hard muscles pressed against my breasts, pushing his groin against mine. He’s hard for me, and I can feel myself getting wet.

“I want you.” He breathes, thrusting his hips against me. His clothed, hard shaft rubs against my clitoris, and I moan against his mouth. I run my free hand down his back, bucking under him, adding more friction. He moans, and then groans, abruptly pulling away from me. I stare up at him, my mind dizzy with lust. He grabs the back of my thighs and pushes me up the bed, and getting the signal, I sit up against the headboard. He then takes my hips and turns me around so I’m on my knees facing the headboard. I feel his hot breath on my shoulder, as he runs his hands up my waist, and then he slams into me.

“Ah!” I cry out in a mix of surprise and pleasure. My muscles grip him tightly, and I feel electricity in the pit of my stomach. I start to pant instantly, my body going crazy.

“Is that expressive enough for you?” He rasps in my ear, flexing his hips, driving his long shaft deeper inside me, stretching me out some more.

“I want this every day. I want to make you mine over and over again.” He slightly pulls back, and rams forward again, feeling me up completely, and I feel it in my very core.

“Mark!” I beg. I feel my mind shifting to another channel, and I forget all the rancor I have against him. I need him too much.

“Just you, and me, and this.” He murmurs, his breath shaky against my skin. His hips thrust again. My head rolls back onto his shoulder, and I grap the bars of the headboard tightly. He imposes a steady rhythm, his thrusts measured, calculated, as he makes sure to hit the right spot. My vagina throbs around him, heavy with need, hot juices dripping out of me.

“Oh my god!” My eyes roll to the back of my head as I struggle to breathe. I arch my back, taking more of him inside me.

“You don’t want this, baby?” He groans into my ear. God, I do. I do. “Tell me you don’t need it.” He grinds out, thrusting even harder.

“I do!” I cry, tears making my vision blury. I want it. I want this connection, I was to lose myself to him, I want to be wild and free again.

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!” I beg. I don’t want it to ever end. It’s just me and him, and it feels amazing. It shakes me to my toes, and my body burns.

“I need you, Abby.” He sighs in my ear, wrapping his hand around my throat, keeping me against him.

“God, I need you. All of you.” He whispers. I let out an incoherent wail, too overwhelmed by the intense sensations and emotions assaulting me. I sob, tears running down my cheeks, and I can’t help it. He’s fucking me hard and fast while I’m cuffed to the bed, yet all that comes out of this is his love for me, my love for him, and the sadness I feel realising how much I’ve missed this.

“Please.” I sob, closing my eyes shut. My tears arr abundant and incontrollable, just like the stabs of electricity I feel inside.

“I love you so much.” He whispers in a sigh, his other hand traveling down to my swollen clit. My hips jerk, shaking uncontrollably as I can’t make up my mind between impaling myself on him to escape his burning touch and pushing towarss his hand. I’m trapped under his intense, mind blowing assault.

“You’re mine.” He increases the pressure of his fingers

“Yes!” I scream as my orgasm rips through me.

“Mark!” I cry, my whole body spasming, my hips jerking violently, intensely painful sensations making my nerves scream.

“That’s it.” He rasps, his thrust growing sloppy and faster. I’m lost between sobbing and screaming in pleasure, my orgasm washing over me like a tidal wave, destroying me like a hurricane.

“Oh, fuck!” He shouts, his hips jerking against me. He explodes inside me, filling me with his hot release. His name rolls off my tongue, again and again, because that’s all I know, all I feel, all I want. Mark.

He pants against my shoulders, his hand around my throat sliding down my front to rest on my stomach. I breathe heavily, exhausted by the intensity of our lovemaking. My eyes are still closed, my body still shaken, my mind still hazy.

“You were always so busy.” He murmurs, pulling me out of my half conscious state. I convince my eyes open, my heart clenching.

“I drowned myself in work to fill the emptiness.” He confesses, and tears of shame and guilt spring to my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, not trusting my voice. Deep down I knew it. I knew I was hurting him, I knew it was my fault.

“No.” He says softly. “You’re pursuing your dream, Abby. Never feel sorry about it.” He murmurs. Not feel sorry about it? How can I not seeing how much I’ve hurt the man I love?

“I love you.” I say, my voice cracking, a lump forming in my throat.

“I love you too, baby.” He kisses my shoulder.

“I didn’t want to make you feel neglected.” I speak despite the tightness of my throat,wanting him to know.

“I know, I don’t think that. I don’t want to think about it anymore. It’s over, baby.” He murmurs, kissing me behind my ear, and down my neck.“Over.” His touch and his word are so soothing.

“I love you.” I repeat.

“I love you too.” He murmurs. I want to touch him, hold him close and shut everything out.

“Untie me.” I plead. He shifts and slips out of me, and then I see him bring a small key to the cuffs before he opens them, letting my hand free. Without wasting a second, I twist and wrap my arms around his neck, making him fall back onto the bed. I nuzzle his neck and throw a leg over his stomach, clinging to him, feeling his warmth. He snakes an arm around me, his hand stroking my back, the other one caressing my arm.

“I just want to reconnect with you.” He says softly.

“I want that too.” I agree.

“I miss you too, I want you for myself all day. Not just when you come home.” I explain, tightening my grip around him.

“I don’t plan to go to work.”

“Until the wedding day?” I challenge, but he doesn’t say anything.

“That’s what you’re asking from me.” When he doesn’t reply, I scowl. He makes unreasonable demands and he’s not ashamed about it. Then why am I so ashamed to ask for his attention?

“I want a Fuck week.” I declare.

“Week?”

“Yes.” I confirm, emerging from the crook of his neck. “I don’t look for a job, and you don’t go to work. We go away. Far away.” I explain, and he only gives me a confused frown.

“Nothing between us.” I murmur. If he can’t give that to me, then fuck him. Six years ago, I know he would have given me months, but now I’m not sure. It’s not a good sign.

“We’re leaving tomorrow.” He snaps as if he was forcing me. My eyes widen in surprise.

“Really?” I ask.

“Fuck, yes.” He says, and it makes me grin. I was so stupid for thinking his love had changed. Him proposing was a good, good reminder. I don’t know why I doubted him.

“Thank you.” I murmur, kissing him tenderly. Whrn I pull away, he gazes at me, eyes soft and adoring. He runs his knuckles down my cheek, sighing deeply.

“I love you.” He says softly, and it warms my heart. I know he loves me.

“I love you too.” I reply. He smiles shyly, and then sighs again.

“I guess Fuck day is over.” He declares.

“No!” I cry, not even ashamed about how horrified I am. He smirks at my reaction.

“We still have time before the gala.” I argue. He grins and kisses my forehead.

“We’re going out. I need to take you somewhere.” He declares.

“No. You need to take me period.”

“Doctor Kraige!” He gasps, feigning shock and offense. I pout, because I’m honestly disappointed. He promised me an entire day, and it’s just four pm.

“Don’t pout at me, you sex monster. Go get ready.” He orders.

“Come take a shower with me.”

“Just a shower.” He warns. I nod, battling my eyelashez at him, feigning innocense. There’s no way I’m leaving without getting more of him.

-

Mark parks in front of a big tower downtown. He’s refused to tell me where he was taking me, and our surroundings don’t help. I’m absolutely clueless.

“Promise to keep an open mind?” Mark asks as he helps me out of his Audi. An open mind? You have to have an open mind to deal with this man at the first place.

“Okay.” I reply. In front of the building stands a brunette in a brown pencil skirt and a white blouse. She as deep green eyes.

“Miss O'shea.” Mark stretches his hand out to her. Okay, we came to see her, but why? She smiles sweetly to him.

“Mr Tuan, please call me Ava.” She says, shaking his hand, her fingers lingering longer than necessary on his hand. “Ava.” Mark agrees, but doesn’t tell her to call him by his name. Her cheeks turn a pale shade of pink as she swoons, and then her eyes move to me. I want to roll my eyes at her.

“Miss Kraige.” She gives me her hand to shake.

“Ava.” I say stiffly, taking her manicured hand and shaking it briefly.

“Please, follow me.” She says before entering the building with a code. Mark places his hand on the small of my back, and we follow her gingerly.

“Who is she?” I mouth so lowly I’m sure she can’t hear me.

“Estate agent.” He replies.

“We’re visiting apartments?” I ask, my voice loud. Ava turns around and flashes us a smile.

“Yes. The penthouse is at the top of the tower.” She points up, before turning back around.

“I don’t want to move.” I whisper to Mark.

“Now that’s kind of close minded, don’t you think?” He snaps. I scowl at him, because he’s right. We take the elevator to the top floor and walk in what has to be the most ridiculously big living room I’ve ever seen. One wall is maide of entire glass, and it goes to the kitchen. The lightning is incredible.  The decoration is colorful, but not too much.

“The view is awesome.” I murmur, looking up at Mark.

“I know.” He smiles down at me.

“Let me show you the rest of it.” Ava pipes up, showing us the stairs. A duplex?!

-

“And that is it.” Ava says once we’re back in the living area. This penthouse is ten times bigger than our apartment. It’s a fucking manor! I feel winded, as if struck by a truck. He wants to buy this…fucking dormitory?

“Thank you, Ava. Can you leave us a moment?” Mark asks politely.

“Sure.” She smiles, before exiting. Mark turns to me, watching me closely. I know he’s not sure of my reaction.

“It’s huge.” Is all I can say.

“Penthouse.” He says in a way of explanation.

“I don’t want to move.” I repeat myself. This apartment is very luxurious, very modern and everything, but I don’t know how I can make this a home.

“Why?” He asks.

“I love our little cocoon. And this…penthouse will require staff, because there’s no way we can clean everything. Eight bedrooms?” I explain.

“We can have a housekeeper.” He says casually. The hairs on my neck lift, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“I don’t want staff.” I say.

“Why?”

“My home, I take care of it. And it’ll be awkward.” I explain. I can’t begin to inagine someone wash my clothes, my panties, cook me food. I don’t want a slave.

“You’ll get used to it.” He says reassuringly.

“You really want to move out, don’t you?” I ask.

“You’ll need an office, I need a bigger office, I need a gym, and a room for my archives. I need bigger.” He explains. I can’t really argue with this. I mean, it’s about my opinion only.

“What about my wall?” I ask. I don’t want to lose my wall.

“We can move it, it’s not a problem.” He caresses my hair reassuringly.

“We’ll make it a home, baby. Don’t worry.” He kisses my forehead. Another new start, I guess. We did it once, we can do it again.

“Okay.” I murmur.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” I repeat.

“Sure?”

“Yes. Home is wherever you are.” I say softly, looking up at his eyes. He smiles tenderly.

“I love you.” He murmurs, bringing his lips down to mine.

“I love you more.” I reply, kissing him back. I realise just now, just how much I’ve missed him. Not his body, but the wildness, the intensity, the rawness, the purity of his love for me now that’s unleashed and free again. I’m going to spend the rest of my life enjoying this gorgeous man of mine, because now I can. It was a hard time, but now it’s behind us, he’s never stopped being mine, and I am his forever.

2

Gif source:  Sam

Imagine Sam mentions that he’s thinking about cutting his hair and you tell him not to.

——— Request for anon ———

Sam slaps back up the flipped down mirror on the roof of the Impala, turning to glance at you as Dean steadily fills his baby up with gas outside, “I think it’s time for a haircut.”

“Okay,” you answer, eyes never moving from the gossip magazine Dean had snagged for you. You’d been cutting Sam and Dean’s hair since you’d started riding with them, so you’d thought nothing of Sam’s sudden declaration, “Soon as we get back to the motel, I’ll get the scissors ready for a trim.”

He catches your attention with his next words, “I don’t know. Maybe I want more than a trim this time. Isn’t the long hair getting kind of old?”

“What? Sam, you look great with long hair. Please don’t make me chop it off!”

See you around - SugaMonster

Prompt from anon at iamashamedofmyfanfics

“That’ll be $9.85-” Yoongi glances up at the customer and freezes, eyes wide.

Namjoon doesn’t look up, digging in his pockets for the cash. He tosses a ten on the counter, grabbing the cigarettes and sliding them into his pocket. “Keep the change,” Namjoon says, his voice raspier than Yoongi remembers, and he turns his back without looking.

Before he can think about what he’s doing, Yoongi calls out. “I need to see your ID before you buy those.”

Namjoon turns back, still looking down, pulling out his wallet, flipping through cards until he finds the one he needs. He tugs it out and tosses it on the counter before finally looking up at his cashier- at Yoongi.

“Yoongi,” he breathes out, frozen, and Yoongi can’t say anything, can’t do anything, just gives Namjoon the most awkward smile and says “Hi.”

***

Keep reading

Dream scene prediction

Penny runs up to Callie.  “I decided I am going to turn down the grant.  I want to stay here with you and keep this going between us, long distance sucks.” Callie justs stares.  “I am going to run and tell Bailey.”  Penny turns and starts to walk away.

“Don’t.”

Penny flips back around, “What?”

“You can’t turn down the grant.”

“Of course I can, Stephanie is already ready to my place.”

“You can’t turn down the grant…. I kissed Arizona”