“I’m ready to go home.” I fold my arms over my chest, making his shirt I’m wearing ride up my thighs, the cold tickling me. Marco calls Snow inside before kicking the door closed. “Did you hear me?” He grunts, taking off his coat. “Don’t grunt at me.” The sound doesn’t help my arousal.

“Are you hungry?”

“Are you trying to plump me up or something?” He shrugs as if it doesn’t matter if I’m plump or not. “Marco.” I stomp my foot like a freaking child.

“We don’t need to go to town. You don’t have work.” No, I don’t. We’re on a long break for the holiday.

“Well, maybe I want to—”

He cuts a look my way, his eyes locking with mine. The words die on my tongue. That damn heated stare of his. You’d think he wants to eat me alive, and he does. That look should scare the crap out of me. I’m not going anywhere, but then again, I don’t really want to. I’m only throwing a fit because I’m all worked up, and I know it.

He wraps his arm around me, lifting me off my feet like I’m a doll. I melt into him. “How do you feel?” Marco drops down on the sofa with me in his lap. His hand presses between my thighs to cup my sex.

“I’m fine,” I groan in annoyance.

After Marco took my virginity, we both passed the hell out. I did, at least. The last thing I remember was his body on top of mine. I woke to him kissing me the next morning. All had been fine until he got a look at the sheets and turned into a drama king.

There had been a few drops of blood, and I was sore, but it was a good sore. Which I told him twenty times. He hasn’t had sex with me since. Anytime I do try to lead us that way, he goes down on me until I can’t take it. I didn’t know one could orgasm to the point of begging someone to stop.

“Let me see.” He spreads my thighs apart.

“Shut up.” I laugh. “You had your face down there an hour ago, you've seen it all. It’s fine.” I turn to straddle him. “Marco.” I run my finger down his jaw. He hasn’t shaved, and I love the roughness of his short beard.

“Promised it wouldn’t hurt again. I think a few more days and—”

I put my hand over his mouth. “No, you big bully. I’m not made of glass. You’re not gonna break me.” I drop my hand and go for his pants. I'm not waiting another damn second to have him inside me again. Although I love his mouth on me, I need all of him again.

“Bully?”

“I don’t know,” I mutter. I can’t explain this need I have for him to be back inside of me. Is it the fact he won’t do it or is it something else? It has to be something else.