Carrie's Answer (14 page)

Marcus had moved back in front of her and was poised on his knees, head bowed as he flicked the ends of the flogger over her pussy, aiming for her swollen clit. She stared down at his glossy black hair. It was so hard to concentrate with him touching her.

She shook her head, trying to clear her brain.

“Marcus, I’m not Karen.” She fought hard to keep her voice calm and even. It was ragged and raw from her pleasured screams. He didn’t respond, so she repeated herself. Still calm. Still even. “Marcus, Karen is not in this room. I’m not her.”

Marcus froze at her softly spoken words. He let the flogger slide to the floor and pressed his forehead to Carrie’s belly, clutching at her thighs as he fought raggedly for breath.

Fuck, was that what he was doing? Taking out on Carrie what that bitch had said to him at the restaurant?

All he’d wanted, all he’d needed was to know that Carrie could take all he had to give without breaking. But, goddammit, he’d let that evil woman almost ruin the best thing that ever walked into his life. He tilted his head back and hesitantly met her eyes.

When he saw her face, the sickness in his gut just churned harder. Her lips were red and swollen from her own teeth, and her eyes were wet. Streaks were clearly visible on her cheeks, where tears had overflowed.

“I know you’re not her,” was all he could manage as he tugged the vibrator from her unresisting sheath. He reached out and unhooked the harness that kept her bent and open for his pleasure. He eased her upright and freed her from the ropes he’d used to restrain her. Wincing when he saw the red marks on her wrists and ankles, he wondered how she would ever forgive or trust him again. He was losing his mind. Marcus never second-guessed himself; now he was.

Once she was loose, she tried to hold him but he wouldn’t let her. He had no business accepting comfort from her. She was the one who’d been mistreated. Touching her like the finest crystal, Marcus scooped her into his arms and carried her from the room.

When he reached his bedroom, he settled her gently on the bed, carefully laying her back against the pillows. He sat next to her, holding her face in his palm, and bent to kiss her gently.

“I know you’re not her,” was all he managed to get out before the guilt choked off his words.

His mouth traveled along her entire face, dusting her cheeks and nose with soft kisses, sipping the tears from her skin. He savored the sweet, silky taste of her, now so familiar and necessary.

He made his way down to her breasts. Damn, he loved them. They were so full and soft and responsive to his lightest touch. Pulling one nipple into his mouth, he loved it with tongue and teeth, drawing sweet moan after moan from his woman. Leaving one breast for the other, he gave it the same careful attention.

One hand cupped the bounty of her breast. The other he trailed down her body until his fingers could slide down on either side of her swollen clit, capturing it in a gentle vise.

“Baby, I want you to come,” he said as he pinched her clit lightly.

Her eyes widened and her scream poured into the room. She was amazing, coming with just one word, coming apart beneath him.

When she finally calmed, he reached down to kiss her again. “Damn, baby, I love to watch you come for me.”

She smiled at him with the warm glow of a satisfied female. “I love you watching me come,” she purred.

Marcus stroked her flushed cheek and bent down, letting his lips linger against hers. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her, to deserve her easy absolution of his crimes, but he knew he’d take it. Greedy bastard that he was, he’d take everything she gave and demand more.

As his lips toyed with hers, her hands roved restlessly over his back, hooking in the waistband of his pants and tugging at them with clear irritation.

Marcus moved from the bed and quickly skinned out of his jeans and boxer briefs. Stepping to the foot of the bed, he crawled slowly up, parting her legs as he slid up her body.

He paused when his head was level with her pussy, breathing in her sweet, spicy scent. Propping her thighs over his shoulders, he dipped his head and dragged his tongue along the length of her slit, nibbling at sensitive tissues and letting his tongue explore every crevice and fold he encountered.

Carrie arched into his mouth, gasping out his name as he settled in to feast on her needy flesh. Marcus propped himself on his elbows and used his thumbs to open her lips wide. This position gave him total access to her hard little cherry, and he drew it between greedy lips, pulling and sucking until she was sobbing out her pleasure.

When he could sense she was on the edge, struggling to keep her climax at bay, he pulled his mouth slowly off her pussy. He continued crawling up the length of her body, moving her legs until he could nestle between her thighs, settling into the cradle of her hips. Placing his aching cock at the mouth of her opening, he reached down and whisked his thumb over her yearning clit, and whispered against her lips, “Again, baby. Come for me again.”

Before he’d even finished speaking, she twisted against him, crying out as the pleasure took her. As soon as he felt her muscles clench, he tunneled into her, reveling in the feel of her coming apart around him, pulling him inside and dragging him along with her. It was beautiful, feeling her body react to his touch. Groaning her name, he ground himself against her, riding out her orgasm with her.

Carrie tangled her hands in his hair and pulled him up until his lips met hers. She kissed him with an intensity he’d never found with anyone else. An intensity that spoke of more than sex. Unable to resist, Marcus sank against her and did something he hadn’t done in many, many years.

He made love with Carrie.

Soft touches, softer words. The Dom took his pleasure from hers as he went about worshipping her every curve, her taste, her scent. It was mind-blowing to feel this close to another person. When the passion built and the need became unbearable, only then did Marcus increase his movements, pumping and thrusting, his gaze never leaving her brown eyes.

“I’m here, baby.” Her pleasure at his admission was clear in those amazing brown eyes. Her body strained against him. His was like corded steel, every muscle tight, throbbing for release.

“Come with me, baby,” he whispered and reveled in the sensation as her sheath clutched down on him, clenching and pulling her name from his throat. Her pleasure caught him in a vise grip and pulled him along with her. Grunting as the pleasure jolted through him, he kissed her, taking her orgasm into himself and pouring his into her.

He loved this woman, loved her so fucking much he felt like he was going to combust.

When the last of their mutual shivers ended, Marcus rolled to his side, pulling her into the cradle of his body, tucked up against him like a spoon.

“Hurricane Marcus,” she murmured against his upper arm. He laughed at the wonder in her voice.

She snuggled back into him and he felt her smile against his biceps.

“That was unbelievably amazing.” Her voice was fading. “Thank you.”

She yawned and he knew that she was exhausted. They would have to talk about what had happened, about Karen, but Marcus was relieved to put it off until later.

“Sleep, baby.” He kissed her head again, pulling her tighter against him.

“Love you, Marcus…”

His head came up as her voice trailed off to silence. Carrie was out, breathing deeply. Had he heard her right? Damn, he hoped so, because he felt the exact same way. He had come to a decision, and tomorrow he was telling her that he wasn’t letting her go after the weekend was over. In fact, he wasn’t letting go of her ever.

A peaceful, relaxed feeling washed over Marcus, and he fell into a deep, restful sleep with a smile on his face.

Chapter Seventeen

The music of Shinedown filled the room as her cell phone rang. Carrie shot off the bed like a bullet as the phone kept shrilling, insisting that she answer it.

Snapping the device open, her sleepy eyes barely open, she rasped out an indistinct, “Hello.”

“Carrie dear, Cass is in labor.”

Carrie came awake instantly and completely at her mother’s words. “Oh no,” she responded. “It’s too early.”

“Yes, dear, I know. Now just stay calm.” Carrie’s mother sounded like she could have stood to follow her own advice. “The baby has decided she’s ready to make her appearance. Since this is a first baby, the doctor said it will probably be quite a while before she actually delivers, but she’s awfully uncomfortable and she’s asking for you.”

Carrie winced. As Cassidy’s labor coach, she should have been with her from the first contractions.

Her mother continued, “I went ahead and made flight reservations for you. You have an hour and a half before your flight takes off.”

Her mother quickly gave her the details of her flight information, and she smiled at the image of her younger sister, ready to bring her baby into the world.

“So, she’s asking for me, huh?” Somehow Carrie had a tough time imagining Cassidy doing anything so calm as asking.

Apparently her mom read her mind, because she chuckled. “You better get here now, Care-bear. Cass is screaming for you.”

“Okay, Mom, see you in a bit.” She was still smiling as she hung up the phone. That’s when she remembered where she was. Marcus wasn’t in the room, and when she went looking for him, he was nowhere to be found.

She felt uneasy. Where was he? She looked at the clock. It was already nine-thirty and her flight left at eleven-fifteen. She had no time to wait around and see when he was coming back. She tried in vain to find a pen or pencil to scribble a message for him. In her frazzled state, she flung her hands up in disgust.

How could he not have a damn pen!

She fought back her anger and sorrow. Damn it, she should have had one more day with him. She quickly dressed in her own clothes, neatly folding the ones he’d purchased for her. There was no way she could keep the items, beautiful as they were. The pain at leaving was already lancing through her heart and she knew that any reminder of the man she loved would only prolong her grieving process.

She would call Marcus from the airport just to let him know that she hadn’t walked out on him, and that she would always treasure their time together. Carrie, ever the practical girl, knew that this was the end. In spite of her best intentions, she’d built some dream that Marcus felt more, wanted more than one weekend of sex. She’d known better and the pain was excruciating. She could not stop the tears as she closed the front door and got into her car.

Looking into the rearview mirror at his house, she let the tears flow. How did a person get over finding then losing their soul mate? The one person who totally got them, knew all there was to know about a person, and wanted them warts and all? She swallowed hard, blinking past the tears as her heart cracked then broke wide open.

Marcus jogged up the stone steps to his house, juggling hot coffee in a tray and a bag of bagels. He knew that Carrie would be famished this morning. Their weekend had gone a million times better than Marcus could ever have dreamed, and he knew he’d worn her out.

Damn, but she was an unbelievable woman. He chuckled to himself as he remembered how she’d handled Karen at the restaurant.

A small pang of guilt stabbed at the vicinity of his heart. When they got back home, Carrie had borne the brunt of Marcus’ frustration at seeing his ex. He hadn’t hurt her, at least not physically, he would never do that, but he’d been rough.

She said she loved it, loved feeling him so deep and hard inside of her. He swore he’d even heard her murmur that she loved
him
as she drifted off to sleep.

Was it true? Could he have gotten so fucking lucky as to have her really love him? God knew she had reached in and grabbed him, twisting his insides out until he was helplessly lost. All she had done was surrender to him. She gave and gave without question. The best part? Outside of the bedroom, she was still the same smart, sassy-mouthed woman whom he’d worked side by side with for so long.

He wanted more. True, two days wasn’t a long period of time to make this kind of decision, but Marcus was the kind of man who went after what he wanted with determination.

He knew what he wanted from Carrie. A week, a month, hell a year wouldn’t make it any clearer to him than it was right now. He belonged to her and she belonged to him. He loved saying that to himself.

She was his.

Daniel was right. He’d seen through Marcus’ denials and bullshit, and Marcus would never be able to thank him enough for sticking his perfect nose into Marcus’ business and essentially forcing him to admit to himself how he really felt about her.

And Carrie. How would he ever repay her for accepting his offer? For giving him the one thing in life he wanted—acceptance, total acceptance for the man he was.

After setting breakfast on the counter, he bounded up the stairs to his room. He was hot, hard and ready for her again. He hadn’t fucked so many times in two days since he was a teenager. He was insatiable with her, and Carrie welcomed him each and every time he reached for her.

“Wake up, baby, you need to eat,” he said as he pushed his door open. The bed was empty. Still smiling with wicked anticipation, he checked the bathroom. She wasn’t there either.

The hair on the back of his neck rose as a pit opened up in his stomach. He quickly checked the rest of his house. Still no Carrie. Going over to his kitchen window, he peered out. Her car was gone as well.

Where the hell was she?

His phone rang. He sighed as he recognized her number.

“Baby, where are you?” he asked with crushing relief.

There was a sharp crackle.

“Marcus, I’m so sorry…”

“What? Carrie, I can’t hear you.” His panic rose sharply at her next words, which were broken up by loud crackles of static and abrupt lulls of silence.

“I’m sorry, Marcus… I can’t… I have to go now… Bye.”

The phone went dead. He immediately dialed her number. A recording came on and informed him the cellular customer he was trying to reach was unavailable.

Running back to his room, he searched. All the clothes he’d purchased for her were folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Her small overnight bag was gone.

He picked up the phone and dialed her house. When her voicemail picked up, he hung up.

He sat on the bed. The scent of their lovemaking surrounded him, tickling his nose. She was gone.

Marcus stood. Well, he wasn’t going to make this easy for her. If she wanted out, she’d have to tell him to his face. He may have started this but she damn well wasn’t going to finish it.

* * * * *

He arrived at her apartment in record time. Pulling in next to her crookedly parked car, he became really concerned. He ran up to her second floor apartment and started banging on the door.

No answer.

Marcus stopped hammering on the door and leaned in, listening intently for a shower or radio, for anything to let him know she was in there and okay.

After about five minutes of steady pounding, there was still no answer.

What the hell? She could be lying in there hurt or fucking worse.

“Carrie, dammit baby, open the door. We can talk about this. Just let me know you’re okay.”

Still no answer.

Now he banged harder as his voice rose. “Carrie Anderson, open this fucking door right now!”

From behind, he was suddenly whacked on the shoulder. Furious, Marcus turned around to face his attacker. He had to look down to find her. Way down. The little white-haired woman who stood glaring at him, tapping her foot and clutching a rolled-up newspaper in one hand while the other was propped on her slim hip, had to be at least eighty years old.

“Young man, do you have any clue what time it is?”

Marcus had no response. Being reprimanded by such a tiny female caught him completely off guard.

“She’s not home. Came back a while ago. Grabbed a suitcase and got into a taxi. She seemed really upset. Don’t suppose you know what all that’s about?” She crossed her bony arms and glared at him.

Marcus leaned into the cheap wooden door. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his tangled black hair. Mumbling his apologies to the old lady, he started down the stairs.

The old lady’s voice followed him. “If this is how you treat her, no wonder she took off.”

Marcus didn’t give her the opportunity to say more.

The drive home was bad enough but when he reentered the house, his misery only increased. Everywhere he looked, he saw her ghost.

He moved to the kitchen but it just felt empty and alone without her presence.

“Goddammit,” he bellowed, sweeping his arm wide. Their breakfast, caught in his swing, flew off the counter and across the kitchen, leaving sprays of coffee dripping down the walls, and bagels scattered across the floor like rocks.

He wanted to punch something, hurt something as much as the pain ripping through his body hurt him. He crossed the room toward the small table that sat in the corner. The flowers he’d bought for her still stood in their crystal vase. He picked up the vase and threw it hard into the wall. He watched the glass shatter and splinter into a thousand pieces.

“Just like my fucking heart!”
he screamed to the empty house. This was not how it was supposed to end. God, he had thought what they shared was special, that once-in-a-lifetime kind of shit you saw in movies.

Was he the only one who felt that way? Damn, he’d been so sure that she was feeling that way too.

Did she wake up this morning and wonder if she was in over her head? Except for the static-filled phone call, she’d said nothing else. No note, nothing but her nosy neighbor informing him that Carrie had taken off with a suitcase and seemed upset.

God, he was such a fool. What woman in her right mind would put up with his shit? A couple nights of play were one thing. A whole lifetime was something completely different. She’d run, he feared, because she was afraid that she would have to have sex with him like that every night.

Marcus slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, fumbling for the phone in his pocket. Banging his head back against the wall, he glared at the little device before giving in and dialing.

God, he didn’t want to talk to Meredith. His nerves were strung tight and he didn’t have the patience to handle her with kid gloves this morning.

To add insult to injury, she didn’t answer her phone. Marcus glanced at the clock. Coffee was dripping down its face, and the sight just rekindled his anger.

Cursing steadily, he punched in her cell number. No answer there either. Finally, in a towering rage, he settled in to hitting the redial button every time her phone went to voice mail. He was itching to make someone hurt as bad as he did by the time Meredith finally answered the phone.

“Yes, Marcus.” She sounded way more relaxed than she had any right to.

“Meredith. Where the fuck are you?” He didn’t even try to moderate his tone. He was beyond being careful of Meri’s emotions. He was going on pure rage.

“It’s ten-fifteen on Sunday morning. I believe you informed me you’d be unreachable all weekend.” Her voice held its usual mockery but it somehow sounded softer. Maybe later that would matter to him but for now Marcus was blind to anything but the emotions tearing at him. “I expected you’d be too busy to call.”

Her words were like salt in an open wound. He should be too busy to call. He should be balls-deep in his woman right now, not sitting in a pathetic heap on the floor. His anger had nowhere to go but out.

“Stop being such a fucking ice-bitch and listen to me.”

“Marcus.” If he’d been listening, he would have heard all the tentative softness disappear from her voice. “I know you think you have a good reason to attack me but trust me, big brother, you don’t ever want to go there again.”

While her tone didn’t reach him, her words did. He forced himself to be silent for a moment, struggling for control. When he thought he could speak without screaming, he rasped, “Call Matt and tell him to get his ass into the office tomorrow. I won’t be there.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Carrie was gone. Meredith was questioning him. His control was shot.

“Just tell Matty to get the fuck to work tomorrow.” He slammed the phone closed. Seconds later it joined the pieces of broken glass on the floor when Marcus flung it at the wall.

One long hour of pacing and prowling later, he couldn’t stand to be in the house a minute longer. Going into his room, he stuffed random clothing into a duffle bag. He was very careful not to look at the bed or Carrie’s neatly folded clothing. He wasn’t fucking staying here with her scent on his sheets and her face everywhere he looked.