Page 17 of Every November

“I can come with you,” I suggest, quickly adjusting my hard dick under my waistband.

Marcus notices my movements, smirking before he opens the Jeep door. For some reason, just being near him keeps me half-hard without even trying, and I can’t even be embarrassed about it. Not when we both know exactly what we’re walking into the hotel to do.

The walk to the lobby is an exercise in trying to think about anything other than what’s waiting for me, an effort that, unhelpfully, does nothing to actually fix the problem currently straining against my zipper. Marcus checks us in with a credit card and his driver’s license, and I learn his last name is Hayes as he rattles off his information to the clerk like this is super casual.

Meanwhile, I’m standing a few feet away, jacket held strategically in front of me, silently begging the universe for the clerk’s eyes to stay glued to the computer screen.

After another minute or two, they hand Marcus two key cards in an envelope, and we head toward the elevator. It’s probably suspicious we don’t have bags, but whatever. That’s the least of my worries right now.

Marcus hits the fourth-floor button and my heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it in this confined space. I feel like a fucking virgin. I don’t know why my body is reacting this way to him. It’s confusing. Unless he’s into some seriously kinky shit, I’ll be fine. I’ve had sex before.

As if Marcus can sense my nerves, the second we get out of the elevator, instead of heading straight to the room, he reaches out and grabs my wrist, his thumb pressing against my pulse point. “You are nervous,” he says, and it’s not a question this time.

“A little,” I admit.

“I’ll make you forget all about those nerves in a minute.” He drops my wrist and starts walking, leaving me to follow him down the hall. I do, stopping behind him at room 416 as he slides the key card into the lock and the door clicks open.

My gulp is audible, and my nerves are making me feel lightheaded. I was wrong about what I thought earlier. I actually think I’m more nervous now than when I was a virgin. Call it the Marcus Effect. I want to be good for him. It’s such a strange feeling, but I really want him to like me.

As soon as we step inside, the room is exactly what I expected—clean, generic, with a king-sized bed and standard hotel decor. But it doesn’t matter what the room looks like. What matters is that it’s ours for the night, with no interruptions, no time limits, no cramped back seats, or the threat of someone walking in. Or jail time. Because I’m pretty sure hooking up in the back of a car is illegal.

The slam of the heavy door does nothing to calm my jittery heart, and when I turn to look at him, his eyes have gone dark, his pupils blown so wide the deep blue is barely visible anymore. The look in his eyes makes my knees weak.

“Come here,” he commands.

I move, stopping just inches from him. He doesn’t make me wait. His hands are on my face, pulling me in as his mouth crashes against mine. It’s demanding and addictive, just like last year. He’s pouring everything into this kiss while his hands are moving, exploring me. One lands on my throat while the other dips lower to my ass, which he palms through my jeans.

He shifts his hips so his leg is slotted through mine, and I grind against his thigh. My nerves are slowly being replaced by the desire to lose myself to him.

After I’m nearly panting in his mouth, he pulls back to strip. Marcus is gorgeous with tousled blond hair, broad shoulders, and a silver chain that hangs between his pecs. He’s wearing black boxers that do nothing to hide his thick erection, and my mouth waters at the memory of it on my tongue—the curve of it. His thighs are thick, covered with tattoos all the way down to his calves. Fuck, he’s so sexy. I resist the urge to drop to my knees right here and worship him because I want to wait for him to take the lead. I want to be led.

“Like what you see?” he asks without an ounce of self-doubt.

“So much.”

His stormy deep blue eyes are swimming with desire as he slowly steps forward to unbutton my shirt, and I hope he likes what he sees just as much. He tugs it off, then unbuttons my pants, pushing them down with my boxer briefs until the fabric is pooled around my ankles. I step out of the material and his eyes rake over my naked body with a predatory glint that makes me feel like he’s going to ravage me.

“So, what are you into? Because I’d love to get inside that ass.”

“Fuck,” I mutter at his forwardness. “I’m vers, so yes.”

CHAPTER 9

Marcus

His yes is all I need to hear. I drag my eyes over him one last time, taking in his thick forearms, a black-inked tattoo sleeve winding down his right arm, a smartwatch on his left wrist, then another tattoo inked onto his bicep. My gaze catches his trail of brown hair starting just below his belly button that leads to his perfect dick and muscular thighs, then climbs back up to his bright blue eyes, which are waiting for me to make the next move.

Fuck, it’s almost funny. Around his friends tonight, he had that same easy, happy-go-lucky energy he always does. But here, alone with me, all that ease folds instantly into neediness. I’m sure he’d drop to his knees the second I asked, desperate for me to tell him he’s doing good.

Just like last year, it’s a heady power trip. Except now, I get to truly take my time with him and explore his body.

I push him back onto the bed and climb on top, my knees sinking into the mattress beside his hips. I don’t touch him yet. I just hover, letting the anticipation build. His chest rises and falls fast beneath me, his eyes wide and locked on mine as the air between us crackles with electricity.

“Look at you all laid out for me. Did you think about this all year? About my mouth on you?”

A flush spread across his chest and up his neck. “Yes,” he admits, and it doesn’t even matter if it’s true. Hearing him say it in such a desperate way does something to me anyway.

I smirk, reaching out to trace his collarbone with one finger. “Good boy.” The words make his cock jump. I knew he’d like praise. He’s too easy to read, and it’s one of the things I appreciate about him. “Tell me what you thought about.”