Chapter Thirty-One

Mark is broody when we finally make it back to his apartment. The guards were in the middle of taking our statements when a woman showed up armed with a file. She showed them copies of my restraining order, confirmed that Ronan was who we claimed, and we were sent on our way. Mark not getting so much as a warning despite being caught on camera, pinning and punching Ronan.

I lie back on the couch, legs draped across Mark's lap, not complaining as Mark ices and massages my leg for the umpteenth time.

"It's fine, Mark," I say, for what is probably the tenth time in the last half-hour.

"I should have kept him there until the guards arrived," Mark says back, tense.

"They'll pick him up somewhere. And we're leaving tonight to go to your house. We won't even be in the same county; never mind the same town. He won't be getting anywhere near me," I remind him. Mark doesn't say anything. "I'm the one who made you let him go. Are you mad at me?"

Mark's eyes flick to me. "Of course not."

I hold eye contact until Mark's shoulders slump. He leans forward and presses his lips against my cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm just—I am so goddamn pissed off that he pushed you like that." Anger creeps into Mark's voice. "If I ever see him again—"

"Mark," I interrupt. "The last thing I want is you getting into trouble. He's not worth it. Seriously," I partly feign my nonchalant tone. "I'm way more annoyed about losing my invitation."

"I'll get you a new one," Mark promises. He sits up, and I think he's a bit more relaxed since I've brought up something he can solve. "We should start getting ready. Are you sure you are still up for it?"

"I think it's a great idea," I say. More for Mark than me. Being out of town and distracted until Ronan gets picked up will keep Mark from thinking about him. "And we got the suits, so it would be a waste not to see you dressed up."

Finally, a faint smile tugs at Mark's lips. "I agree with you there. You stay here; I'll get our things ready."

I fold my legs to let him stand up. "And let Eddie and Sebastian know it's safe to come out."

Mark rolls his eyes at me, but I hear him knock on both their doors on the way to his room.

Sebastian joins me, flinging himself onto the end of the couch. "The dragon has gone back to sleep?"

Mark had bitten the head off both Eddie and Sebastian when we'd come in, and they'd asked—quite reasonably, I thought—what was wrong. Wisely, both had quickly retreated to their rooms.

"Sorry," I say. "I had a run-in with my brother. It upset Mark."

"A literal run-in, was it?" Eddie asks as he walks in, his gaze flicking to the ice packs wrapped around my leg.

I honestly feel a little edgy with Eddie staring right at my leg, but I force all of those feelings down. Eddie is a good guy. A good guy, who always sticks up for Mark. I refuse to let Ronan spoil anything for me anymore.

"He shoved me," I say honestly.

Eddie's eyes flash to anger. " What ?"

"Whew," Sebastian whistles. "No wonder Mark is pissed. Did he kill him?"

"He wanted to."

"You could have let him," Sebastian shrugs. "Damien will never let Mark spend so much as a day in jail. Mark could turn out to be a serial killer and Damien would still coddle and protect him. He's such an idiot."

I'm glad Mark has someone like that protecting him.

I clear my throat. "What is Damien usually like with Mark's boyfriends?"

Sebastian snorts. "What boyfriends? You're the only guy I know of that Mark has dated."

I glance at Eddie, but he shrugs. "I met him here at college. And the only guy he paid attention to long term was you." He shook his head. "All your stupid fights in all those clubs. Anytime he heard you joined a new one, he'd be right there, like an idiot."

"That must have been hilarious to watch," Sebastian says with a grin. "Mark trying to flirt and what? What would Kyle do?"

Eddie grins back. "One time—"

"No, no, no!" I sit up quickly, too many embarrassing memories flooding my mind. My cheeks prickle with heat, and even the back of my neck feels as though it's burning.

"Every single party they'd end up at, Mark would approach Kyle," Eddie rubs his chin. "I thought he just liked fighting and they hated each other, but now that I know, looking back, it's honestly pretty funny. Last semester—"

"Mark!" I call. "Ready to leave?"

Sebastian cackles. "Eddie, you and Bethany should ride with me and Tommy."

"No. Absolutely not," I object.

???

I end up alone in Mark's car, Sebastian ushering us away with a look of total glee.

"He's a devil," I grumble. It's a four-hour drive. That is four hours of embarrassing stories that the four of them can all share. Bethany and Tommy have witnessed just as many as Eddie has.

"Yeah," Mark agrees offhand. Only after we join traffic does he cast me a sideways look. "But what did he do this time?"

I sink in my seat, face heating. "He wants Eddie to tell him about our fights."

Mark grins. "You mean our flirting?"

"Can't you control your cousin?"

"I don't think anyone can control Sebastian. Though I bet Tommy is going to give it a good go."

I stretch in my seat. "Tommy isn't controlling," I point out. That being said, Tommy was focused in on Sebastian. I muse on that particular pairing for a few seconds before speaking. "You know, I didn't even realise Tommy was attracted to guys."

"He might not be. Could just be attracted to brats," Mark suggests. "Which works for me. I don't have to worry about him." He casts me a smile. "You're as sweet as they come."

"I am not sweet," I say. Not defensively or anything, but I am dead certain that there's no way Mark could come away from our interactions since we met and think sweet .

"Sweet, eager…" Mark trails off.

I bat away the hand creeping onto my thigh. "You just mean in bed," I grumble.

"I don't, but if we're talking about what you're like in bed—"

"Mark," I interrupt, getting embarrassed even though we're alone. I always lose the run of myself; I'm way too eager. I shuffle in my seat, and then roll down the window, feeling too hot. "I always come way too quick," I finally mutter.

Mark groans. "Babe, I'm driving."

"You brought it—" I cut off. "Why are you hard?"

Mark's considerable size means even if he's sporting a semi, it is so very visible in his jeans. He makes a noise of discomfort and squirms. "Do you expect me not to get turned on when you talk about coming? Change the subject, please." Mark angles his face away from me.

I eye the bulge in his jeans and swallow. I look away from Mark and adjust myself in my trousers—which I'm sure isn't any discomfort compared to what Mark probably feels in his jeans. Inadvertently, my gaze drags its way back.

"Can you squeeze yourself?" I ask.

"Jesus Christ, Kyle. Are you trying to make me crash?" Mark curses. He flicks on the indicator and soon we're off the main road, pulling into an industrial park. Mark drives until we're all the way in the back of an abandoned parking lot, where there's not a single soul in sight. Mark shuts off the engine and looks at me. "Like this?" Mark cups his bulge and squeezes.

I bite my lip. "I could…probably get on my knees in the back? Do you think you could fit behind me?"

Mark's eyes are black.

"Go on," he nods.

I get out of the car and enter the back, sliding onto my knees, and leaning over the shelf on the back of the car. There's no headrest in the middle seat so I am flush to the seat, my top half flat on the shelf.

"Comfortable?" Mark sits in the seat next to me and pulls the door shut.

"Yeah."

"Knee isn't sore at all?" Mark asks as he undoes my belt and tugs down my trousers and underwear together so they bunch around my knees. He kisses my hip as he caresses the skin he just exposed.

"No," I bite down a groan. Mark, without preamble, slides a finger into me. "Stop , I'll come, don't just, ugh." I dig my forehead into the coarse fabric of the car.

"Hold it for a minute," Mark tells me. I hope he knows how completely impossible that is.

"You know," I groan, "Before the accident, I never came this fast."

Mark chuckles as he rolls a condom over my length. "Liar. I bet I could have pinned you against any wall, rubbed my cock against your ass, and have you cream your boxers in seconds."

I don't object; Mark is undoubtedly right.

"All good?" Mark climbs up behind me, knees on either side of mine. His cock presses against my ass as his torso pins me onto the back shelf covering the boot. Cool lube comes from seemingly nowhere; it squirts onto my hole and smells vaguely of mango. Mark works it inside of me with a hum.

"Wait," I groan.

Mark kisses the back of my neck. "What is it?" He nudges his lubed up cockhead at my entrance, teasing me open with a little pressure.

"I feel like I'm being mounted," I manage to voice.

Mark goes still; then his chest shakes as he chuckles. "Kyle," he says, clearly amused. "You are being mounted."

I open my mouth to object, but Mark thrusts forwards and his cock sinks into me all at once. I can only groan, overstimulated. One of Mark's hands latch onto my hip as he begins to thrust, immediately setting a fast, rushed pace and I writhe, instinctively pulling away as he pierces me deeply. Except my hips immediately collide with car seats, and Mark follows, and there is clearly less give in leather car seats than mattresses because each thrust pierces me so deep it's knocking the breath right out of me.

I blindly bat at Mark's hips. "Your cock is hitting my lungs," I whine.

Mark's thrusts falter as he laughs.

I complain, but Mark quickly puts a stop to that by recovering, and I have to focus on breathing. There's no time for talking.

It doesn't take long; I'm gone, the world lost to me in a wall of white noise. It's only when Mark sinks into me with a loud moan and stays buried do I return to the present. He's pulsing inside of me, and I shuffle until I can turn my head. Mark knows what I'm trying to do and manoeuvres so he can kiss me.

"You fucked me," I whisper against his mouth.

Mark hums, kisses me deeply, and then moves so that he's mouthing the back of my neck. "Couldn't help myself." He sounds half-dazed. "You sore?"

I'm about to say no, but I pause. "My ass is a bit sore," I admit.

"Because I fucked you?"

"Mark . "

"Maybe your lungs are a bit tingly?" he teases.

"Mark ! "

"Are you too sore to go again?" He strokes my hip. Then reaches between my legs to touch my spent cock. "I want to spill inside you more."

There is no world in which I could say no to that. I wiggle, still impaled on Mark's cock, and nod my permission.