Marlena stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the penthouse, staring out into the night. The lights of Salem reflected back at her like thousands of twinkling stars tossed at random into the obscuring dark, softening it. The resulting shimmer did nothing to calm the wild, wide-eyed look on her face. 

Fear lurked in her gaze as she scanned the city below, looking for something to ease her mind. 

Peace. 

Faith. 

A little bit of hope. 

She wasn't sure what she needed, only that she needed it. In less than twenty-four hours, she was going to Italy with John. Her skin crawled at the thought of not coming back without him by her side, but she wouldn't back out now. 

She couldn't. 

She had to do this, especially now that she knew for sure Stefano had something to do with it. A thousand frightening scenarios ran through her mind on a loop. What if John didn't sweep everything up before he went into the crypt? What if something went wrong? 

What if, what if, what if. 

He kept ensuring her that he would be fine. 

"I'll be okay, Doc," seemed to have become his mantra. He'd said it so often, trying to reassure her, that she'd memorized the cadence of his voice speaking those soft words. 

It hadn't really helped. 

 

Neither had the same assurance when he'd whispered it into her hair before going to shower. She wanted to believe him, but somewhere between returning to her patients and arriving back at the penthouse, the uneasy voice in the back of her mind had grown louder and more disquieting. Thinking about the parts of his life that were hidden away from him made her want to cry. 

He was so incredible, and he didn't even realize it. He rewarded himself by holding the things he cared about and the people who made him happy, close. She had a feeling he'd been that way since he came to Salem decades ago, and that broke her heart. 

 

The tenuous, unguarded look she'd seen on his face as she explored his past with him, wrecked her. So had the flicker of hope burning in the depth of his blue eyes. He wanted so badly to reclaim the parts of his life he'd been denied from for so long. Marlena was terrified something would happen to keep him from it. Something would go wrong, and John would be trapped in the same hell he'd been in since he was a teenaged boy. 

He deserved peace and happiness, perhaps more than anyone. She could not express how much she did not want to be responsible for ruining that chance for him. During the drive back to the penthouse, the fear that she would do exactly that had grown exponentially. Peace became more and more elusive the longer she waited for him to emerge from the shower. 

 

Resting her forehead on the cool glass, she admitted to herself how much she needed him. Being wrapped in his arms was the only thing that could keep her from falling apart. She doubted that would ever change, and that was okay with her, even if it did feel a little strange. Had anyone told her a month ago that she would be here now, so far in love, she didn't ever want to find her way out, she wouldn't have believed them. But here she was. In Love and engage.  And truthfully, she couldn't really even pinpoint precisely when or where she'd fallen so hard for him he'd become vital to her. 

 

He was the strength and safety that had been so fleeting since Alex attacked her. For so long, she'd been afraid. Terrified that the few pieces of her former life she still clung to would be ripped away, and she'd end up as alone as she'd felt since that night. 

 

Alex hadn't simply destroyed her career. 

He'd destroyed her. 

He'd taken her sense of self, and left her struggling. 

 

And then she needed to be left alone, unable to trust herself anymore. Trapped in a body as unfamiliar to her as everything else had suddenly become. She'd been desperate to go on the trip to New Jersey, dying to find even a little piece of the person she used to be. She'd wanted to prove that she wasn't the pathetic thing Alex tried to turn her into, but someone stronger, braver, and more powerful. She didn't want to be broken anymore. 

But she had been. 

Until John swooped in to claim her back. 

He had been breaking down her walls since the first time he touched her on the island, wiggling his way back into her heart. It'd been only a matter of time before every defense she had ruptured and she fell. 

And dear God, had she fallen. 

A few short weeks had changed so much, sweeping her along in a whirlwind. And she'd do it all over in a heartbeat. Without hesitation, question, or reservation. There was passion and love and hope and so many things she'd thought were forever beyond her reach. They weren't. 

Not any longer. 

And if something happened to jeopardize that, to take John away, she wouldn't survive. 

 

"Hey," he murmured, his fingertips brushing across her shoulder. She jumped, lifting her head and catching his reflection in the window. His hair was a damp riot on his head, standing up every which way. His jaw was scruffy where he'd forgone shaving. She swallowed as her eyes traveled down his body, taking in his bare torso, the dark sweats resting low on his hips, and his bare feet. 

 

God, he was gorgeous, all soft, olive skin over hard, defined muscle. Her fingers twitched on the glass with her compulsive need to reach out and trace the contours of his abs and the V right below. He was hard everywhere, a perfect representation of male strength. 

"Hi," she said. 

Even through the window, the need burning in his blue eyes captured her gaze, holding her hostage. His expression was so gentle, and so hungry. So much emotion roiled in his eyes, it took her breath away. The look in his eyes made it clear that he belonged to her as thoroughly as she belonged to him. He stepped closer, the heat of his body beckoning to her. She leaned into him, her body melting into the strength and security he offered. His hand slipped down her shoulder to encircle her waist. He dipped his head to press a soft kiss to the side of her neck, never once breaking eye contact in the glass. 

"I missed you," she said. 

"You could have joined me." He slid his other arm around her body to rub soft circles across her stomach. His touch made her ache to shed her clothing and feel his hands on her bare skin. She relaxed further into his embrace as desire unfurled low in her belly. 

"I needed a minute," she said, turning her head to brush her lips across his jaw. Instantly, they warmed, heated by the feel of his skin beneath them. She always felt that way with him. Even when he couldn't quiet the storm entirely, he took away the chill it left behind, replacing the icy cold with aching, driving need. His expression morphed into one full of worry as she watched his reflection. 

 

"What's wrong, Doc?" he whispered the question against her ear, sending another wave of warmth rushing through her. She bit her lip, knowing they needed to have this conversation before anything else happened between them tonight. "If I ask you a question, will you be honest with me?" 

"Always," he promised, hugging her a little tighter. She turned herself in his arms until they were chest to chest. His eyes were so captivating this close. How had she ever been unable to read him? 

Right then, she could read his every raw emotion in those eyes. Worry, desire, fear, self-doubt, need…adoration. 

"Why?" she asked. 

He sighed as if he'd expected the question and knew exactly what she meant, his breath fanning across her face. 

"What do you see when you close your eyes, Doc?" 

"What?" 

"What do you see when you close your eyes?" he repeated, lifting a hand from her waist to gently close her eyes for her. "Tell me," he encouraged when she stood there, not speaking. "I see my family," she answered, not sure what he wanted her to say. 

"What else?" 

"You." 

His lips pressed briefly to her forehead as if in gratitude for that answer before he pulled back, letting her go. She opened her eyes to find him staring out the window, his hands in loose fists at his side, his head bowed. "When I close my eyes, I look into the void, Marlena...I can’t see where I’m coming from. I can’t see my parents." He sounded so sad, so defeated. "I don’t remember anything about them; their names, ages, where they were killed, how they were killed, and how it could have been prevented—how I could have prevented it. I don't know the names of their other children if they had children." He raked a hand through his hair before lifting his head, his gaze so somber and mournful. 

"It's not something I can forget... When I close my eyes at night, I see them. At random moments during the day, I see them. For years, I've seen them. Or what my mind made up to help me deal with the gaps in my memory." 

 

"Oh, John," she breathed sadly, tears welling in her eyes at the thought of what that had to be like for him. She could not even imagine what that had to be like for him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on as tight as she could. He stood tense for several seconds before his body relaxed and he wrapped his arms around her, holding on to her as tightly as she held him. His heart beat strong and steady beneath her ear. She was certain her own was cracking, fracturing apart from him. 

"I'm so sorry," she said. 

"Me too, Doc, but the thing is…" He trailed off, his entire body moving as he expelled a pent up breath. "The thing is, it's always been that way for me. I got used to it. I accepted it. I dealt with it. Hell, I sought those details out." He laughed humorlessly, making her cringe. "And then there was you," he whispered. 

"Me?" 

"You." 

A small smile ghosted across his lips when she gaped at him. "When you touch me, it all flies away. My mind is quiet." Wonder filled his eyes, giving him a faraway look, like a little boy who'd just won his heart's desire. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. "Even the worst of the thoughts disappear when you're near me." 

"It's the same for me," she confessed, oddly grateful that they were matched tit for tat in this way as well. That's how it always was with them, she was quickly coming to realize. Her inner scars were comparable to his. 

His fears were the same as hers.

 

Maybe it came about in different ways, through different means for each of them, but they fit together like interlocking puzzle pieces displaying parts of the same scene. You couldn't see the entire picture looking at one piece, but when you put them together you knew instantly what sat before you. And you knew those pieces belonged together, even if you couldn't see it when looking at them individually.

 

"I thought so," he murmured and gave her another small smile. "You were made for me, Marlena. And being with you made me realize that life doesn't have to be so fucking hard anymore," he continued, rubbing distracted circles on her back where his hands were looped together around her waist. "I don't want to see an endless parade of Brady victims anymore. I don't want to keep punishing myself for what happened to my parents. When I'm with you, all I see is you. And I want that. I want a future and happiness. You give me…" he trailed off, searching for words. 

"Hope," she finished for him, knowing exactly what he struggled to say. 

"Hope," he agreed and leaned forward to kiss her. 

His lips were gentle on hers, warm and giving and so good. Always, his kisses were perfection. 

"I want that," he continued when he pulled back to meet her gaze, slightly breathless. "I want you and peace and dinners with our children. I've done this shit for so long because torturing myself with memories of people I couldn't remember is what I felt like I deserved. But last week–" 

"Last week?" she prompted when he fell silent without finishing the thought. "When I went to the morgue with Abe last week. I didn't walk through those doors to witness Alex’s body. I walked through those doors because I was fucking terrified that next time it could be you. I wouldn't survive that, Marlena." His jaw clenched as something dark and volatile flared in his eyes and then died out. 

 

She wrapped her arms a little more securely around him in an attempt to offer him comfort, strength…whatever assurance he needed to realize that it would never be her he went to visit in a morgue. 

"Doing this ISA shit isn't worth it anymore," he said into her hair. "This job is killing me. I want out before it takes anything I love from me," he finished. 

"I want that for you, too," she admitted and then hesitated. "But what if you change your mind, John? What if working behind the scenes isn't enough for you?" She understood where he was coming from, she really did, but she wasn't blind to reality either. He needed a battle to fight. He needed to save lives and make a difference and do all those things that only someone like him could do. He'd dedicated every day of his adult life to this because he wasn't the kind of person who could sit around and not do everything in his power to keep someone else from losing a family member like he'd lost his. 

 

The world needed heroes, and he needed to be one. That's just who he was. If he did this, she didn't want it to be because of her. She didn't want him to wake up one morning and resent her for letting him think the choice was between his career and her. God, she would never do that to him—make him choose.

He was a force of nature, all strength and courage and emotion. He needed an outlet for all that energy and passion. And she doubted she would ever be enough to fill the void walking away would invariably leave behind for him. 

 

"Don't do this for me." 

He cupped her face in his hands and rested his forehead against hers again. "I may never have realized how much I want this without having met you, but I do want it, baby. Last night was hell, and I'm tired, Marlena. It never stops. It never ends. But I can save myself." She flinched, hating when he talked about dying as if it were an inevitable end to what he did. Even though she knew he'd been headed in that direction, she hated hearing it. She didn't want that for him. But this wasn't about her and what she wanted. This was about what he needed.

 

"Promise me something," she demanded. 

"Anything." He smiled that crooked smile at her. 

"Promise me that you won't quit because you think it's what I need from you." He frowned, opening his mouth to argue. "I mean it," she said, cutting him off. "If you do this, you do it for you and only you. And if you decide later you want to go back, promise me that I won't stand in your way. That you won't try to suffer through it because of me." His frown morphed into a scowl. 

"Why do you think you're standing in the way?" Because she knew him, and she knew how much it worried him to think she could be hurt because of him. And she feared this decision was more about him wanting to keep her safe than it was about what he wanted for himself. He'd said himself that it terrified him to think about her in that morgue. Without that fear guiding him, would he make the same decision? Could he? 

 

"I don't want this to be about me," she explained. "I know what it's like to have your entire life change and have no choice, John. I don't want that for you. I won't let that be you," she added, her voice forceful. 

"You won't let it be me?" he asked. 

She gave him a sharp, emphatic nod. "I love you too much to let you give up something important to you because you think it's what I want. All I want is for you to be happy. And I'm not so sure you'd be happy working behind the scenes. That's not who you are." 

 

His scowl remained for a full five count before it slipped and his lips sought hers. He kissed her hungrily, crushing her body to his as he devoured her lips before breaking away, panting. His eyes were dark, desire and need stamped across his face. "You have no idea how much I love when you fight me, do you?" She shook her head, feeling like she might vibrate apart soon, she wanted him skin to skin so badly. 

"It drives me fucking crazy," he admitted. "You're so stubborn." 

"So are you," she said, voice hoarse. 

"I want to consume you, Marlena." Vivid, burning blue bored into her as he spoke, stripping her bare. "I constantly want you aching for me. But when you fight me?" A wicked smile curved his lips, something dark and predatory flashing in his eyes. She shivered, not in fear but in want. 

She wanted that side of him. 

God, did she want it. 

"When you fight me, it makes me so goddamned hard. All I can think about is making you beg for my cock because when you do? When you plead with me to fuck you or let you come? That's when I know you need me as much as I need you." 

 

She swallowed, her stomach bottoming out at his confession. "I've never wanted anything as much as I want you. As much as I need you." He pulled her forward and nipped a trail along her neck. "You own every single thought I have." His teeth sank into the shell of her ear and pulled before his mouth retreated, teeth nipping the same line they'd traced to her ear. 

He pulled back and cupped her face. "I'm crazy about you, Doc." 

A shudder raced through her as he smiled that crooked, heart stopping smile. She felt like she was drowning in the depths of his eyes. 

There was so much emotion there. 

So much hope. 

His lips brushed like butterfly wings across hers. "You are fucking perfect, Marlena. You have no idea how wild you make me, how happy." His cock was rock hard against her stomach. "Just being near you makes me a better person. I love you," he said, his eyes blazing with sincerity. "So fucking much, I can't breathe when I look at you." His confession hung in the air between them, echoing. 

Neither moved. 

Neither blinked. 

Neither breathed. 

They merely stood still as his words hung between them, wide, warm hazel locked on blazing, fervent blue. His heart thumped hard in his chest, as if finally saying those words, finally telling her how completely he belonged to her, had set free every emotion that had seemed so damned torturous before. They didn't feel that way any longer. The hard thump of his heart didn't hurt. Each pump sent little sparks of light shooting through his veins, burning out every fear that he wasn't good enough, that she deserved more. 

He loved her. 

Every breath. 

Every beat of his heart. 

Every moment. 

All that he had, all that he was, was hers. 

 

Her mouth worked as he stared at her, but no sound escaped. Tears shimmered like dewdrops on her lashes. Her hands trembled at his waist. He wanted to crush her to his chest, rain kisses across her face, her throat, every inch of skin. He waited for her to say something instead, locked into immobility. He needed her sweet voice in his ears to release him. Needed to know that she felt the truth of his words as deeply as he had when she'd said them to him. 

"I love you," he whispered. And then again, "I love you, Marlena." The tears gathering on her lashes fell, one wet drop rolling down each cheek. 

"John," she breathed, emotion choking her. Her hands pressed tighter into his sides as he swiped his thumbs beneath her eyes, collecting those two drops onto his own skin. 

"You…I–" She stopped speaking and shook her head as if she didn't know what to say or how to say it. 

That was okay though.

 He could see it in her eyes. 

Joy. Relief. Acceptance. 

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. "Every thought, Marlena," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Every touch." He stepped closer, moving until every fraction of space between them was gone. "Every part of me. It's yours until you order me away." 

Even then, he would love her still. 

He would belong to her until his heart stopped beating. He was hers. She controlled him without even trying. Effortlessly, completely. He wasn't sure she'd ever realize the power she had over him, the power she wielded with a smile, a touch, the narrowing of her eyes…or two single tears rolling down her cheeks. He was hers. And nothing made him happier.

​
 

**********

​
 

Marlena stared at him in silence, letting his words wash through her until every pain, every moment of grief, and every ache she'd experienced in the last year washed away. She felt removed from reality, as if he'd plucked her from the penthouse and settled her somewhere else, somewhere where her life was exactly as it was always meant to be. 

He really loved her. 

Something about the way he watched her as if she were the center of his world and touched her as if he were worshiping her with every soft stroke of his hands upon her body made it impossible to doubt that he was as caught as she was. But she hadn't let herself think too much about how much she needed to hear the words from him, fearing she never would, but she had needed it. 

More than she'd known. 

"I'll never order you away again," she promised when she could finally speak, her voice choked with the heat of her promise. She didn't know how to put into words what she felt, how he made her feel. There was so much, a tempest raging through her. 

Want, need, hope, desire…a million different emotions shot through her with each electric beat of her heart. His heart pounded against her chest where he was pressed so closely to her. 

The rapid beat matched hers. 

Her hands clenched into fists at his sides as desire rose, hotter and more swiftly than before. The urgency to feel his weight on top of her, inside of her, multiplied exponentially. She needed him. 

Here. 

Now. 

Like never before. 

"Doc," he breathed and tilted his hips into her as the fervent promise in his eyes deepened and darkened. 

 

That look…God, she knew that look. 

 

It was powerful and predatory and full of the wicked, wicked things he wanted to do to her. Every hard line of his body hinted at the pleasure she knew would leave her boneless, mindless, and pleading for more. Heat twisted in her belly, contorting and spreading. His hard length pressed into her, making her moan out loud. The promise in his gaze mixed with the words he'd given her until both seemed to whisper through her veins in tandem, turning her blood to steam. His hands tightened on her waist. She groaned aloud, incapable of silence as another raging wave of heat rushed through her. Her eyes fastened on his slightly parted lips. 

Desperately. 

She smoothed her hand up his abdominals and then over his bare chest, feeling the muscles bunch and gather beneath her hands, reveling in the way his body responded to her touch. Her hands fluttered against him as another wave of need slammed into her.

 

"Marlena," he said, his voice husky, and then his mouth descended upon hers. Her knees threatened to buckle. His tongue darted out and licked at the seam of her lips. She moaned, tightening her hold on him. He backed her toward the windows without separating an inch from her. His tongue flicked across her bottom lip, taunting and teasing her. When her back bumped the window, he dropped his hands from her waist, twining his fingers around hers. Lifting both of her hands above her head, he pinned them to the glass as he'd done once before. 

Another shock of desire tore through her. 

The way he dominated her, moving her where he wanted her and holding her how he wanted, was exactly what she needed from him. She was his, and she needed him to stake his claim. Without a word, he obliged. He possessed her, and she loved it. God, she loved the things he did to her when he was like this—all dark lover and wicked alpha. Even as a plea for more ripped from her lips, he surged into her mouth, his tongue darting out to stroke across hers, unmaking her from the inside out. Her heart leapt into her throat when he bit her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth. 

 

"Fuck, yes," he growled when she bit his lip in return, making it clear she wanted him wild. That she needed him stripped down and raw, as bare to her as she was to him. The frenzy sweeping through her careened dangerously higher when he gave her what she wanted and bit down on her lip before tugging. Her tongue darted out, stroking along his. He groaned and pushed her farther into the window, holding her in place as he consumed her. Their tongues moved together, thrusting and twining around one another before parting, only to come together again, more urgently, more frenzied. 

Faster, deeper, harder. 

 

Little, breathless sounds of pleasure issued from both of them as their tongues danced and dueled together. His kiss was almost animalistic. With the final walls between them knocked to the ground, he held nothing back from her, unleashing all the parts of him that he'd held in check, allowing her to see every powerful piece of him. 

She pushed at his arms which were still holding her hands hostage, aching to touch him, to feel his skin beneath hers. He refused her, nipping at her lips until she was ready to scream. "Please." She tugged at her hands in silent entreaty. 

He pushed himself flush up against her instead of giving her what she wanted, and her knees buckled. His hand on her wrists, his body pressed to hers was all that kept her from melting into a quivering pile at his feet. His skin seared hers even through her dress, sending shocks of molten fire raging through her, igniting her from head to toe. 

 

"Fuck," he groaned, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth to nibble on it. "You feel good." He kissed her, drawing at her mouth as if it were a lifeline. 

"So soft and sweet." 

"John, please," she managed to force out, though she wasn't sure how. She wasn't even sure how she managed to string the thought together. She was lost in him, in his drugging kisses, in his warmth, in this moment. His mouth found her neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh below her ear. 

She cried out as her body burst to life beneath his. Her nipples hardened, tightening painfully as his uneven, ragged breathing brushed his bare chest across hers. She could feel his cock against her stomach. The heat was too much and not enough. She wanted, craved, more from him. She had to feel him skin to skin. 

"John," she whispered, unable to get anything else out. 

"I know." Releasing her hands, his fingertips slid down her right arm, leaving behind a trail of fire. She whimpered, writhing. "God, you're beautiful," he rasped between more small, biting kisses to her neck. "So fucking beautiful, I can barely stand it. Knowing that other men look at you and fantasize about fucking you makes me homicidal, Marlena." 

 

She felt the same way about him when other women gawked at him, but couldn't voice the thought right then. Not with his hand sliding down the light fabric of her dress, rucking it up her thighs. She held her breath, caught in the throes of anticipation, dying to feel his hands on her. 

"I want to taste you." His eyes met hers, gleaming with greedy hunger. "Right here against the windows." 

She gulped, shivered, and then nodded. 

 

God, yes. 

 

She remembered what he'd said to her about wanting to take her in front of these windows for everyone to see. The thought didn't frighten or embarrass her. If anything, the risk of being caught excited the same wanton part of her that made her beg him to make her come on the dance floor. She wanted his face between her thighs. Right here, right now, before all of Salem. Where they could be seen by anyone who glanced up. Maybe that salacious thought should have alarmed her, but as with so much else where he was concerned, it didn't. Nothing about what he made her want had ever truly bothered her, not even when it probably should have. He groaned his approval, the sound a welcome vibration at her throat. "Raise your arms for me, sweetheart." 

 

She did as instructed as he tugged her dress higher, pulling it up her body and over her head. The cool air hit her skin like a soft kiss, sending another shiver racing through her. Her head fell back onto the windows as he devoured her with his eyes. She felt the burn of his gaze as it swept over her, starting at her face and sweeping across her breasts and over her stomach before freezing on the virginal white silk panties. 

 

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as if he struggled to keep himself from reaching out for her. "Damn, you look good in nothing but those little panties," he said, almost as if talking to himself. And then he swept his gaze down her legs and back up, slowly. She didn't know how he made her feel so much simply by looking at her, but he did. 

The reverence and hunger in his expression tore through her every single time he looked at her like he wanted to eat her alive. A shiver raced through her when his gaze settled on her face, his expression feral.

"Are you cold?" 

"No." 

"Good." His hands came up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing across her nipples and pulling a gasp of pleasure from her lips. 

"You like that," he said and then did it again. She arched her back, nodding her head in jerky agreement. "Hmm," he hummed, focused on his task. 

She started to lower her arms, but he stopped her with a sharp, "No, keep them there." 

She did as commanded, whimpering in the back of her throat as the painful burn for more swelled and receded with each wickedly slow pass of his thumbs across her aching nipples. 

 

Aside from those two points of contact, he touched her nowhere else. The space between them seemed thick, soupy. A heavy fog of desire enveloped her, its tentacles whispering along every inch of exposed skin like unseen hands. She needed more than those misty, barely there touches though. The anticipation those teasing flickers sent coursing through her was torture of the best kind. With her eyes closed, every other sense heightened. The soft rasp of his breath sounded heavenly in her ears, a perfect counterpoint to the thump of her heart. Freshly showered, he smelled even more strongly of the outdoors and spice. The scent surrounded her until she felt as if she could taste him in the air around her, all hard heat and passion. The way her arms were pinned to the cool glass by nothing more than his command pushed her breasts up and out, sensitizing them further to every caress of his thumbs. 

 

"Oh!" she gasped as the searing heat of his mouth descended on one breast and his palm on the other. Sensation intensified once more, the sharp, pleasing tug of his teeth closing around her left nipple dragging her higher. He bit, kissed, and tugged with his teeth. 

Her body screamed for her to drop her arms to his shoulders and pull him closer, but she was so caught up in the tumult of sensation raging through her that she couldn't move. His mouth on her left breast and his palm on her right seemed to connect him to every inch of her, inside and out. Liquefying, burning, and reforming her. He bit again, and again she felt it like a shockwave rippling through her very core. Her response to him was heavy in the air, the scent of her arousal thick around them. 

She cried out when he drew back, and sighed in relief when his head dipped immediately to her right breast, showering it with the same intense, all-over attention he'd laved upon the other. Sharp bites and dragging pulls. One after the other until she was dizzy with the sheer pleasure of it. He pulled back, his groan of regret a perfect match to hers. 

 

"Open your eyes, Marlena," he demanded, tugging her arms down. His fingers locked with hers, weaving them together like tight threads in a tapestry. Her eyes fluttered open as if in a dream, focusing on him and the hungry flush of his cheeks. Everything felt hazy, unreal. Everything but him and her, anyway. 

That felt vividly, blindingly real. He dragged each hand to his mouth, his lips brushing over her knuckles before he let them go and dropped to his knees before her. His eyes stayed locked on hers, those two points of blue captivating her, demanding that she not blink, not look away. 

She didn't dare disobey. 

 

Out of her peripheral, she saw his hands come up. Through the haze, she felt the electric shock when they landed on her hips and inched beneath the fabric of her panties. He tugged them down her legs, his eyes communicating every

confession he'd voiced tonight. 

 

I love you. 

I want to consume you. 

I'm yours until you order me away. 

 

He helped her lift one foot and then the other, divesting her of her panties. Only when they were gone did he break that soul-bearing gaze, his eyes moving in a heated trailed down her body to the flesh he'd just exposed. He reached out and traced her wet lips with a single finger, dragging it down her slit. 

Her legs trembled as he brought that finger to his mouth and sucked it inside with a low, wicked groan of appreciation. Muscles deep in her stomach jumped erratically as he licked her juices from his finger. 

She watched, breathless and spellbound, as he sucked it clean, humming in pleasure. When his eyes opened, meeting hers, his pupils were so dilated with desire even his irises appeared almost black. 

 

"I need you," he said, his voice hoarse as he stared up at her from his spot between her legs. "Now. I need…." He shook his head, as if it a complete loss of words. 

She didn't need words though. 

She understood. 

He needed to have some part of him inside of her as much as she needed it. It would be another revelation; him worshiping her, letting her feel exactly how much he'd meant those words. 

"Show me," she said, her voice shaking. Her hands slid across the seamless surface of the window with a creak as heat flared in his eyes. His hand shot out to wrap around her calf, lifting her leg up and draping it over his shoulder. She shifted her position to hold herself upright as he leaned in, her calf and then her inner thigh sliding over the muscle of his shoulder as he drew closer. 

 

His eyes latched onto that secret place between her legs, the one he'd claimed over and over with his fingers, tongue, and cock. "You've got the prettiest little pussy," he whispered, his eyes flickering up to meet hers. She groaned and pressed her hands tighter to the glass as those words alone sent her breath spiraling into quick, needy pants. His gaze never broke from hers as he leaned forward and licked her—one long, solid sweep of his tongue—from bottom to top. 

 

"Oh!" Muscles in her stomach clenched hard when an animalistic growl tore from his lips. He didn't tease her anymore, instead wrapping one arm around her thigh to hold her up and parting her folds with the fingers of his other hand. Before she could gasp for breath, his tongue was buried inside of her, sweeping frantically back and forth as he licked and sucked, lapping up her juices like a cat at cream. 

Her hands slipped and slid wildly on the glass, her head thrown back against the window as she cried out. What he did to her then wasn't slow or gentle. It was frantic, consuming, him gorging himself on her as if he couldn't get enough, couldn't taste enough, drink enough, or feel enough. 

His scruffy jaw scratched at her thighs and at the sensitive swells of her center, sending jolts through her that were equally as strong as those his tongue sent rushing through her. He growled, groaned, and hummed into her flesh as he pressed deeper, his tongue thrusting into her pussy and back out, darting quickly, then slowly, then quickly again. 

 

She felt it everywhere as shocks of pleasure melted her from the inside out. He didn't send her climbing the cliff toward release; he sent her racing up it, chasing her with his lips, his tongue, his nose, and chin. 

"John!" she cried out as she came, an orgasm sweeping through her like a prism of light exploding into a million shards. When her leg collapsed beneath her, he eased her down to the floor, his face still buried between her legs. 

"Please, John! Oh God, please," she begged as she came down, crying out at how sensitive she was. What she'd felt before was nothing compared to what tore through her as her orgasm went on and on, ripping away every defense and leaving her bare to him. Each stroke of his tongue pulled a sob from her throat; each scratch of his jaw sent her head thrashing against the thick carpeting of the floor. He groaned into her folds and kissed her, a hot open-mouthed kiss to her clit that sent her screaming into release. 

 

All the dirty, amazing little things he'd done to her over the last years, and that single kiss was more erotic, more intimate than any of it. It was lips and tongue, wet and greedy. 

She'd never been kissed like that. 

 

"Fuck, fuck," she groaned, bucking as she rode out the waves. Her fingers clutched at the thick fibers of the carpeting, trying to tether her to earth as another burst of pleasure erupted through her. He eased back, spreading her wide open on the floor as he rose up to his knees above her, his face dripping with her juices and his eyes blazing with primal, male satisfaction. He reached out and grabbed her panties, lifting them to wipe his mouth. She moaned low in her throat, something about the sight of him using her panties like that, to wipe away the remnants of what he'd just done to her, sending another shard of lust slamming through her. She wriggled on the carpet, unable to keep still as he dropped them and stared down at her. 

"I love you." Her eyes fell closed as those words burst like sun rays in her heart. 

"I love you, but I can't be gentle with you right now." 

"Then don't be," she answered, writhing at the thought of him taking her hard. She heard him shift, heard fabric rustle, and felt him kneel between her spread legs. She opened her eyes to find him hovering over her, staring at her as if trying to memorize the way she looked beneath him. His expression was a lesson in contradiction. Taut, barely contained need and reverent devotion were both stamped across every line of his face. She reached up, placed her hand on his jaw, and smiled. 

 

"Fuck me like I need you to, John." 

He groaned, turning his head to press his lips to her palm. 

"Don't let me hurt you." 

That soft plea melted her. He was dying to let loose, to fuck her as she demanded, and so worried that he would hurt her. She wanted to tell him not to be silly, that he'd fucked her senseless on more than one occasion and never once hurt her, but the look in his eyes, as if he feared hurting her more than anything, kept her from it. 

She nodded instead. 

"I won't." 

Grasping her leg, he wrapped it around his waist. He leaned down and captured her mouth in another searing kiss. She gasped as his tongue swept inside, lapping at hers as if he were still starved for her. She could taste herself on his lips, and loved it more than she probably should. He kissed her until she was breathless and panting, writhing against the carpet and trying to find friction. 

 

When black spots swam before her eyes, he broke away with a gasp, took his cock in his hand, and pushed his way inside. He surged forward, his hard length disappearing inch by inch as he gritted his teeth and panted for breath. His expression was so beautiful to her. With his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his cheeks flushed, the intense look of pleasure and pain took her breath away. 

 

"Fuck," he groaned when he was buried fully inside of her. His fingers curled around her thigh, digging in but not hurting. She cried out as he pivoted his hips and pulled back, sliding out as slowly as he'd sheathed himself inside of her. He reached for her hand, curling their fingers together above her head as he stopped moving, his head tossed back. "Fuck me, John. Please." She clung to his hand, squeezing hard as he growled wordlessly and unleashed all of that desperation and emotion. His hips pulled back until the head of his cock was the only thing touching her. And then his hips slammed into hers hard, pulling a keening cry from her.

He didn't stop. 

She didn't think he could stop. 

He simply reared back and thrust again, sending her inching up the carpet with each powerful strike of his hips to hers. Each one sheathed him inside of her, filling her so full of him it stole her breath. 

 

"Fuck, baby," he groaned as another powerful thrust of his hips sent her scooting across the carpeting again. It burned at her back, but didn't hurt. Nothing ever hurt when he was inside of her, fucking her. 

All she felt was him. 

His cock buried inside of her, his hand clutched around hers, his chest brushing at hers with every fierce strike of flesh on flesh. Her free hand clawed at his back, trying to pull him closer, to get him deeper. He understood what she needed. Leaning back onto his knees, he pulled her good leg up over his shoulder before lunging forward, their connection deepened by the change in position. She cried out his name as he pounded inside of her, his fingers like vises around hers, his skin slapping against hers. 

"God, you feel so good," he grunted. "I love being inside of you." 

"Oh, yes.." she whimpered, bucking her hips in pleasure. 

"You have the sweetest pussy…so fucking tight…fuck, baby." His head lolled back on his shoulders as he thrust over and over, driving his cock into her and then retreating to start that electric, consuming glide all over. Again and again, he slammed himself into her, fucking her hard, fast. 

He took her roughly, holding nothing back, and it felt so right. 

 

Heat coiled hard in her belly as he released her hand and grasped her hips, lifting her into each powerful drive. She tried to tell him that she was going to come, but couldn't get the words out as that shift in position caused his cock to rub that one spot that always sent her flying out of her mind. With a short cry, her muscles clamped tight, orgasm rocking through her hard and fast. 

 

"Yes," he hissed, his hand curling harder around her hips. He surged forward and retreated so fast, she cried out endlessly as the head of his cock rocked insistently against her walls. She couldn't catch her breath, one pleasured cry giving way to another and then another. He pulled out of her suddenly and flipped her onto her stomach before following her down. His body lined with hers, his chest pressing into her back, his cock nudging at her ass. One knee slipped between her legs, urging them apart. She complied willingly…and cried out once more when he lifted her hips and drove his cock into her. 

The carpet scraped at her breasts, his teeth bit at her neck, his fist tangled in her hair, tugging her head back to grant him access to the pale column of her throat. She moaned and grinded, loving the way his weight pressed into her, cradling her, covering her, as he fucked her, kissed her, and panted in her ear. His teeth sank into the skin of her throat, biting down before he pulled the skin into his mouth to ease the sting. She cried out, a wave of desire swarming her as he sucked hard, marking her. She thrashed beneath him, bucking, arching, frenzied at the realization that when she walked into that club tomorrow, she'd do it with his marks on her body. 

 

"John!" Her nails dug into the carpet as another orgasm rushed up on her, causing her to clench down around him so hard, he cried out too, the sound muffled at her throat. His hand tightened in her hair until it bordered on painful pleasure. She pressed her hips back as far as she could, grinding her ass into him, demanding that he come with her, come for her. 

Now. 

"Fuck, Marlena, fuck!" he snarled as his cock jerked inside of her and he began to come, planting himself deep inside of her and holding on. 

"I love you," he groaned. "So much, Doc." Those words spilling from his lips as he came was all it took to send her careening over the edge. She screamed soundlessly as she released around him, coming on his cock like he loved. She came hard, her vision going black, sound fading. Long moments of shattering completion rolled through her in waves of bliss. When it was over, she drooped beneath him, breathing hard. 

He followed her down, rolling to the side and collapsing on his back beside her. His head turned in her direction, his breath coming in rasping pants. His hands swept down her body, his eyes wide when they settled on her.

 

"Did I hurt you?" 

She shook her head, unable to summon the energy to say a word. Every part of her still hummed. She tried to smile at him, but she couldn't get her muscles to cooperate. She felt boneless, a melted lump of satiation. He rolled toward her with a groan, pressing his lips to her shoulder in a gentle kiss. She sighed, her eyes closing. 

"Come on." He rose to his feet. "You need a bed, Doc." She didn't disagree, merely hummed as he squatted to lift her into his arms and then tucked her to his chest before striding away. She floated in a state of euphoria as he carried her up the stairs and into their bedroom and then laid her between the sheets and slid in behind her. 

 

She never opened her eyes, not even when he pulled her back to him before tucking the covers around her. She felt like she was dreaming. Every part of this night, every part of her, felt too good to be real. But when he pressed his lips to her ear and hugged her hard, she knew she was still awake. 

"I love you," he whispered sweetly. 

Her lips parted, and her eyes begged as she just stared at him, both pain and pleasure in her eyes. Taking the invitation, he kissed her, wrapping his arms around her, and enveloping her with his body. The full force of her lips pushed back against his, deepening the kiss. “John,” she quivered against his mouth. “I—” 

“Shhh, I know,” he urged, taking her mouth again. There were things they needed to say. 

But not tonight.