Rating: R for sexual content!
Timeline: One Week Later
Chapter 25
Surrender
"Little angel go away, come again some other day
The devil has my ear today, I'll never hear a word you say
He promised I would find a little solace and some peace of mind
Whatever, just as long as I don't feel so
Desperate and ravenous,
so weak and powerless
Over you."
-A Perfect Circle, Weak and Powerless
She promised John that she'd been reborn, a total metamorphosis into a new being, caterpillar to butterfly, yet now she didn't want to claim either entity. She just wanted to revert back into that transition state inbetween, safe and protected inside a cocoon, and full of potential for her life. No drug addiction nor debts to John, just total freedom from the substance that had taken over her life and from the man that had saved her from herself.
It had been nearly a week since Noah's test, since Amanda had stormed away from Mark rather than run into his arms like she really desired to.
How did Noah fail? He learned...and he changed. I could just feel it. There was love there, between husband and wife, at the end of the game. Doesn't that count for something?
Follow your heart. Detach emotionally. So which is it, John? What 's right?
Then the most terrifying and confusing thought of all came to her.
What if John didn't know?
She couldn't bring herself to even admit the possibility existed, much less actually ask him. Not that she could anyway. The past few days, John had been almost impossible to reach. She'd look all over for him, a combination of concern and merely having nothing else to do, and then she'd find a locked door that served as both a barrier and an invisible "Do Not Disturb" sign in one. She'd shake her head and walk away, disappointed and unbearably bored out of her mind.
Since John had practically abandoned her the last few days without explanation or instructions, she had taken on a new project to distract herself from boredom that always lead to her thinking about Mark and the entire complicated situation surrounding him. To evade thoughts of him, she had taken John's advice to heart, and attempted to replicate one of his more interesting traps: "The Shotgun Collar".
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery...
"Damn it," Amanda groaned. "Where is that fucking screwdriver?"
She heard the entry door swing open. She didn't even have to look to know that it was Mark-no one swung the door open with that much unnecessary force except for him-but she couldn't resist glancing over her shoulder anyway. There he stood, in his work clothes and jacket, the blue shirt he'd selected emphasising his eyes and making them all the more noticeable so that Amanda's attention lingered several moments longer than usual on his face, the screwdriver she sought seconds ago totally absent from her mind.
"Amanda," he said in a tone that could mean anything. More pleading? Another anti-John rant? Or for once simply a welcoming greeting?
"We need to talk."
Of course. It could never just be simple.
"Well," she replied, staring at the trap she held in both hands. She tilted it, looked underneath the original and tried to map out in her head what it was she was supposed to be copying. "I'm a little preoccupied."
"You've been avoiding me," he accused.
"So?" she snapped. The trap landed on the desk with a loud clink. The gleaming trap was so lightweight, despite all the metal material. Hers would no doubt fall with a thud, and probably shatter upon impact, just to illustrate how much she wasn't...
("You're not Jigsaw, bitch!")
...as good as John.
"I'm just concerned. It's been a week since we've had a conversation lasting longer than five minutes."
"Been busy," she said, her eyes scanning her surroundings for the screwdriver she needed. "Ugh, it has to be around here somewhere...damn it, damn it, damn it!"
In a split-second she snapped, tossing the papers and other materials off the desk, including her cheap imitation of John's trap. It didn't quite shatter, but somehow it looked even more pathetic than before when she'd been working on it. She sighed and slumped in her chair.
"I know it's not exactly uncommon for you to throw things when you're having a temper tantrum," he said, only half joking, "...but I know that's not a normal reaction to misplacing a screwdriver, even for you."
"I'm just feeling...restless. I'm sick of being here."
"Oh?" Mark said, unable to suppress surprise, and joy, in her confession.
"Don't get your hopes up. I'm not that sick of being here. I just mean I'm tired of being in this place, of being around all these...half finished projects. It keeps making me think..."
Of John, and how he's not getting better, not ever going to get better, and of how a lot of these half-finished projects that John is working on will forever be that once he's gone.
"You've got a bad case of cabin fever," he said with the confidence of a doctor dispensing a diagnosis. "You need to get out."
"You mean like...outside?" she said it like it was a foreign concept. The baffled expression on her face almost made him smile, if it hadn't been so pathetic that the mere thought of social interaction with anyone else but him and John had become such a weird concept to her.
"I walk around outside sometimes," she said.
"But you never really leave the area. I'm talking about a change of surroundings. You need it. For your sanity."
"Oh, please. Spare me. What do you...what do either of us know about sanity?" she muttered.
"I know that you can't afford to lose any more of it," he said with a smile. "Besides...the wiring in this..."
He lifted up Amanda's copycat trap.
"It's all wrong."
She leaned her forehead against the side of the table and groaned into the flat surface.
"Relax. I'll help you when we get back."
"Get back? From where?" she said, confused but clearly not entirely opposed to the idea.
"Just a little change of scenery," he said. "C'mon."
She followed him with little reluctance to his car. Everything about what she was doing felt wrong, and it was both frightening and exhilarating at the same time. She was doing something that John had not given her permission to do. Granted, he hadn't forbidden her from leaving. He never really forbid her from anything, but somehow she hadn't felt so guilty in a long time. Her heart pounded in her chest, wondering if today John would choose to come out of his hibernation and find that she was gone.
Mark opened the door to the passenger side.
"So where are we going?" she said as she slid into the seat, although she honestly didn't care about the destination. The mere thought of leaving was the excitement.
"No idea," he said.
"Comforting," she replied, but her sarcasm was softened with a smile.
"Any place you're always wanted to go?" he asked.
"Las Vegas," she said. "City of sin...and fun."
"Yeah, because temptation is all we need," he said. Amanda gave him a sneaky sideways glance, and he flushed slightly. He was referring to drugs and alcohol, their two vices, but he knew she thought he was referring to sex. He cleared his throat and tried again.
"Um...why don't we try something more local?" she suggested. "I have an idea..."
After stopping somewhere to eat, and somewhere else for dessert, making a stop at Mark's place before going back to 'homebase' as she liked to call the warehouse that she had come to think of as her home, was actually all Amanda's idea. She'd had a lot of fun being out and wanted to delay returning a little longer. He didn't protest because he accepted any excuse to keep her away from John.
When they entered Mark's apartment complex, Amanda glanced around in fascination. It wasn't much better than her previous apartment, but the mere sight of other people, people she wasn't going to have to drug and kidnap, just going about their day-to-day lives interested her.
He led her to the staircase.
"Why don't we just take the elevator?" she asked, pointing towards it.
Mark glanced in that direction, then instinctively closed his eyes and frowned. He took a deep breath, gave the elevators a murderous stare, and then smiled at Amanda and said, "I just prefer the stairs."
Amanda shrugged and followed him. Several flights up, she began to feel nearly out of breath.
"You take the stairs everyday?" she asked, the last word coming out in a huff.
"Everyday," he said. At last, they reached the right floor, and he let her into his apartment.
Mark's apartment was dimly lit, but not nearly as barren as her own had been. Unlike her previous residence, he actually had furniture, a television, and she soon discovered as she snooped through his kitchen, a pantry full of food.
"By all means, help yourself to anything in the kitchen," he said with a smile after she'd already started rummaging through his cabinets.
"You cook?" she said, not even trying to hide her amused disbelief. There were things in there that actually didn't have step-by-step directions printed on the package.
"Yeah. Sometimes," he said. His response interested her. She never would have imagined Mark possessing any kind of culinary skills, and if he could cook things that didn't have the word "Instant" on the package, he was already levels ahead of her in that department.
She decided to get a drink, but then she paused, her hand hovering over the handle.
"Who's this?" she asked, her eyes being led to a lone picture on Mark's refrigerator. A beautiful, beaming smile greeted anyone looking for a snack, meal or simply a drink. With straight white teeth and adorable dimples on her cheeks, she could have been a model in a dental advertisement.
"My sister," Mark said quietly. "Angelina."
"Oh," Amanda said. Pity washed over her. She looked over at Hoffman, who was leaning over the kitchen bar, a sad smile on his face contrasting with his dead sister's joyful one.
"She was beautiful," Amanda said, in an effort to break the pending awkward silence. "She looks...happy."
"She was happy. Then, anyway," Mark said, removing himself from the other end of the bar and walking into the living room. Amanda could still see him from her position in the kitchen; she could see he was going to another place in his mind. He was with her, but only physically. She wanted to reach out to him, to bring him out of that place. But was he remembering good times or bad? Was this other place a torment or a haven? Judging by the expression on his face, the answer must have been a complicated one.
Amanda walked into the living room, her drink forgotten, and for the first time noticed the book-less bookcase. It had been converted into a shrine for his sister. Each shelf contained framed photographs, and a few had other objects that must have meant something to her or Mark at one time: childlike drawings, an award of some kind, a necklace draped around one of her pictures.
She put a hand on Mark's shoulder and bit her lip. The display before them was a sweet and beautiful, in a tragic sort of way. She felt immense sorrow, and also a tinge of jealousy for this woman she'd never met. Amanda couldn't think of anyone who would do something like this for her after she was gone. How lucky this girl was to have family who cared for her, even now, years after she had passed.
"She was happy. Then, anyway."
So what changed, Mark?
"The Precinct called. Said you aren't pressing charges after all. I thought we agreed, Angelina? I know what he did to you wasn't an accident. I saw the bruises, you told me yourself what happened. Please tell me you're leaving him tonight," Mark said, feeling exhausted in every sense of the word, and irritated by the pending hangover he knew awaited him the next morning.
"Mark, I can't leave him," she confessed. In her anxiety, her finger wrapped around the cord of the phone, getting trapped in the spiral curls.
"Angelina... he's dangerous. You know that," Mark said. "Isn't that a good enough reason to leave?"
"I need him. I need someone else to care about...besides you," she said. Dangerous territory she was stepping in, but she couldn't shy away from the truth.
"When did I stop being enough?" he asked, sounding absolutely pitiful. "Is it all the overtime I've been putting in at work lately? Do you feel like I'm not there for you anymore?"
Angelina sighed and put the back of her hand to her temple, the cord hovering in front of her.
"Oh Mark...it's not anything you've done. It's just that, we can't only care about each other forever. It's not healthy. We need other people."
"I know that but...please, I beg you, Angelina, if not for yourself than for me, please, please let him go."
"I can't," she said, starting to tear up. Not the last thing he wanted to hear from his sister, and definitely not the tone he wanted to hear it in. "He needs me too much. He told me that I make his life better. Bearable. And we love each other-"
"He doesn't love you, Angelina. He's a sociopath who's only capable of loving himself. He doesn't even understand what love means. But I do. I love you, Angelina. You're all I have," Mark said suddenly, realizing it for the first time as he spoke it. "My career is...it's nothing to me unless you're with me to share my success, my happiness. I'll give it up for you. I'll quit, if that's what it takes, if that's what it takes for me to protect you from this fucking bastard-"
Click.
Silence on the other end of his phone invaded the apartment and spread, eradicating all noise surrounding him. Until he shattered the quiet with a steady stream of curse words directed at Seth. He threw his phone across the room and downed another drink. He would drive over there tomorrow when he sobered up, and force Angelina to come home with him, to leave Seth for good. He would get her out of the vicious cycle of abuse if she couldn't do it for herself. If Seth tried to stop him, he'd beat the shit out of him. Maybe he'd even get Eric to help.
But that never happened.
It never happened because he waited just one night too long.
"Mark, what are you thinking about?" Amanda asked, turning his face to the side and using her body to block his view from the bookcase. Not that he needed to see it. He'd spent so much time staring at it in the past that it was permanently imprinted in his mind.
"The man who killed her was her boyfriend. There were signs of abuse...all the signs...they were right there, in front me...and I...I could've done a better job protecting her," Mark said, shaking his head. Amanda couldn't protest because she hadn't been there, but based on own experiences of being the subject of Mark's over protectiveness, she had a gut feeling he'd done whatever he could to save her, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't be her savior. The fact that he'd still failed despite everything just skewed the truth in his mind, made him feel the burden of blame because even though he'd tried, the bottom line was he did not succeed. And the bottom line is all a guilty mind can remember.
"I think you did all you could. No matter what you do, in the end, people make their own decisions. You couldn't control her...people have to help themselves," she said. Realizing how much she sounded like John made her wince. Sounding like him was not her intention. That was probably not something Mark wanted to hear.
"Maybe you're right," Mark said. "It's hard to feel that way, to feel like I did everything I could, because she's still gone."
"And you still miss her," Amanda said, tilting her head to the side and catching Mark's eyes.
"Of course I do," he said. "All the time. She was my family."
Amanda absentmindedly touched one of the pictures on the shelves.
"I think John is the closest I've ever felt to having family," Amanda confessed, staring at the lovely girl in the frame.
"And what about me?" Mark asked.
"You know that's different," she said in a low voice. She turned to face Mark, and in doing so, accidentally knocked over one the frames on the shelf. It crashed to the floor with a piercing clatter.
"Fuck!" she shrieked, jolting backwards. Mark looked down and saw broken pieces of the frame dispersed all over the floor. Then he noticed a small trail of blood leading up to Amanda.
"Are you okay?" he asked, looking up at her.
"Yeah...no. Maybe," she said, clutching her leg.
"Should our next trip be the ER?" he inquired sharply.
"No!" she shot back. "It's not that bad!"
"Come here. Let me clean it up anyway," he said. She used him for support as she hobbled her way into Mark's bathroom, so small it could send a claustrophobic into a panic attack. The edge of the tub was too narrow to sit on, so she got all the way in, accepting the fact she might get damp...or totally soaked, by the time it was over.
Mark inserted the plug into the drain and twisted the knob to start the flow of water, overlooking the fact that he'd accidentally left the shower on. Water sprayed out all over her from head to toe.
"Fuck!" Amanda screeched, kicking the wall in front of her in instinct with her uninjured leg.
"Sorry..."
He pushed down on the small knob on the nozzle to turn the shower off and the bath on. He adjusted the water temperature as he tried to repress a laugh. One quick glance at Amanda told him that could be dangerous.
"Shit, that was cold!" Amanda said. Her shoulders vibrated as she shivered.
"Apparently," Mark muttered under his breath as he noticed her nipples become obtrusive beneath her top, leaving little to the imagination. His attention turned toward her leg in his need of immediate distraction. He tried to roll her jeans up to gain access to the wound, but the material was so tight that he could only lift it a couple inches.
"Damn, you're jeans are tight."
"They're skinny jeans," she explained, cocking an eyebrow. "They're supposed to be."
"Well, it's inconvenient," he scolded, giving it one last tug. Still no slack, and the blood puddle on the denim material continued to expand. He leaned back for a moment, contemplated the situation, and reached for the button to Amanda's stubborn jeans.
"Whoa!" she yelped. She grabbed his hand with her own and used the other to clutch his arm. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
In another situation, Mark would have chuckled at her over-exaggerated reaction, but he was too concerned about her welfare to find humor in anything. Her hindering him came off as aggravating instead of cute, and he snapped at her.
"Unless you want me to take you to the ER, I'm going to have to do this. Please," he added at the end, although the tone of that 'please' was a cleverly concealed criticism.
Amanda looked at him skeptically, still holding him in his place.
"Fine," she said, lifting her hands up in surrender. He unbuttoned her jeans and started yanking them down. With the way Mark was staring at her, somehow the water seemed even hotter than before. Boiling hot, practically steaming, in fact...or was it just her that was getting hotter?
"Could you possibly stare any more?" she said. She crossed her arms across her breasts, the only act of modesty she could muster under the circumstances, hiding her nipples that were becoming quite hard and due to the water, quite visible as well.
"I'm just trying to examine the wound. Grow up," he said, only-half lying. He really was examining the wound...among other things.
"Oh please, you totally just gave my crotch a glance over. A very long one, I might add."
"Well, for fuck's sake, you're wearing bright red underwear, it's...eye catching," he said, removing her jeans completely as he added the last part. He discarded the bloody clothes in the corner of his tiny bathroom and finally got a good view of the injury. Amanda wasn't lying- it really wasn't that bad. It was a long cut, yes, but it wasn't deep, and it looked like it had finished bleeding. He cupped one of his hands and drizzled warm water over the wound to wash away the blood and get a better view of the situation.
"I told you it wasn't that...bad," Amanda said, her last word coming out as a breathless whimper. Mark had to agree with her. After he was satisfied that her wound wasn't severe, he turned the water off and turned to look at her.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said. His eyes did a doubt take of Amanda's expression. She was squirming uncomfortably and biting her bottom lip.
"Are you okay?" he asked. He was confused by her reaction, until he noticed where his other hand had inadvertently traveled while his mind was otherwise preoccupied. While his right hand splashed water on her leg, his left hand rested on her inner thigh. Unknown even to him, but very well noticed by Amanda, was the way his hand had gently caressed her inner thigh. How very like Mark -one part of him trying to earnestly be helpful while the other side sought was he really wanted, rules and manners be damned.
He removed his hand and looked up at her to apologize, but was distracted by the vision and sudden realization that Amanda was in his apartment, in his bathtub half naked, her clothes totally saturated in water, and from what he could tell by her expression and the way her legs were suddenly spread as far as the narrow bath would allow, totally wanting him. Mark's apology got lost somewhere in his mind, and before he could relocate it, or even remember how to speak at all, Amanda acted on her impulses.
Nearly half the water in the tub poured out as she reached for him. She managed to pull his upper half on top of her, and his right leg floundered inside of the bathtub, caught between Amanda's legs, as he tried to regain his balance. She assaulted his mouth with ravenous desire, and he responded the only way he possibly could, with eager reciprocation. One of his hands steadied himself while the other squeezed her breast, nipples already erect under her wet top. He broke off the kiss to suck one of the swelling nubs, swallowing the warm water contained in the flimsy material of her shirt. Amanda groaned, lifting up her hips to grind his. He moaned into her breast, the suddenness of the pleasure and the heat emitting from the bathwater and from their bodies surged through him and made him hard.
"Ohhh, Mark…" she gasped, pressing his face to her chest and curling her fingers in his hair. That simple reaction provided all the encouragement necessary for him to continue. He savored the sound of her calling out to him, the taste of Amanda-tainted water, and the feel of her wet nipple in his mouth. He couldn't stop himself until he was nearly choking on water and breast.
"Amanda," he panted, pulling himself away at last.
She stared at him with parted lips.
"What, Mark?" she said, hardly comprehending her own name coming from his lips. Her mind wasn't working right. She had parts of her throbbing louder than his voice in tempo with her racing heart.
"I want you. I want you...so much," he said, the aching in his erection forcing that last phrase out of his mouth with great emphasis. "But no more lies about this being the last time. Do you understand?"
He was saying it for her, saying what she'd been unable to since the night they gave in to each other. All she had to do was agree. Hell, she didn't even have to say anything. All she needed to do was nod her head, give him consent. All she had to do was shut her damn mouth and just bob her head up and down...
"Mark, maybe we shouldn't..." she said. Mark nodded his head as though he expected that, albeit begrudgingly. He pulled himself out of the tub, and moved his damp hair out of his face.
"I'm sorry," she said, still panting, her body still rebelling against her words. She adjusted herself in the tub. Before she could finished speaking, Mark restrained her, moved her panties to the side to allow access for his fingers, and plunged two of them inside of her.
"Mark!" she screamed, flailing her legs and slipping against the lubricated surface. She wrapped her arms around him to prevent herself from falling, and cursed profusely in both anger and arousal.
"What the fuck...do you think you're doing?" she snapped, not resisting but nonetheless seething.
"Proving a point," he said rather calmly. He continue pumping his fingers in and out, using the fact that Amanda was still trying to get steady as the perfect opportunity to make this point.
"Which is?" she hissed. Her muscles were contracting around his fingers against her will. She tried to tell her body to stop enjoying it so damn much.
Stop giving him the satisfaction of seeing how he's getting you off, she thought. He's not even that good!
Her body called her out as the liar she was. She writhed against his hand and did practically everything she could to get him in deeper besides grab his hand and jam his fingers into her. Soon she didn't give a fuck what Mark's point was. All she wanted was more of him inside of her.
"The point is that you want me," he said, still remaining that placid, penetrating expression. He wasn't going to stop, or go far enough to relieve her, until he got a confession out of her.
"Okay! I want you!" she groaned, frustration and arousal coming closer and closer together. Her thighs squeezed together, and her hips jolted upwards, a subconscious effort to pull him further in.
"Yeah, I'd say that's pretty obvious now," he said. The sudden desire to wipe that smirk off his face overwhelmed her. She just wasn't sure if she wanted to do it by slapping him or fucking him so hard he couldn't manage any expression except a helpless gasp. Or maybe she wanted to do both.
"That's not even the issue!" she reminded him. Of course he knew that, but that didn't mean it wasn't a subject worth bringing to her attention again.
"Amanda, you want me, and I clearly want you," he said. Her eyes looked him up and down.
"Clearly," she smirked, brazenly grabbing his crotch and squeezing, stealing some of his smug satisfaction. He flinched, mostly from surprise.
"And that is the only important issue," he sighed, sliding his fingers out of her. They both felt a twinge of regret as he pulled away from her.
"You already know," she said. "Why we shouldn't...but..." she said, looking away from him, trying to evade eye contact in vain. She couldn't avoid his gaze for more than a few seconds.
"Stop looking at me like that!" she said. "That's cheating!"
"Cheating?" Mark said, unable to resist the return of his complacent expression.
"Yes! I can't say 'no' when you look at me like...like...that," she said, pointing as if illustrating an example.
"Well, unfortunately I can't see how I'm looking at you, plus I really don't care if it's cheating. If it helps me get through to you. All's fair in..." he said, stupidly leading himself into an awkward pause.
"Lust and war?" Amanda said, attempting to finish for him. Neither of them were ready to say the real expression out loud. The other four letter L word. Not even close, even if they were getting closer to that point.
"Yeah, something like that," he said. He stood up, enjoyed the view of a drenching wet Amanda once more, before opening his cabinet to retrieve a towel. He gave it to her, and she stood up to dry herself off.
"I'll stop 'cheating' if you really want me to. But I don't think you do," he said. "Amanda, this isn't just about lust, and you know it. If it was, I would have already dropped the subject by now."
The pretense of being preoccupied with drying herself was convenient as she tried to think of something to say.
"I know you're concerned with what John thinks, but eventually, that's not going to stop you. John, his rules, whatever hold he has over you...it's not enough. It's not going to keep you from going for what you want, Amanda. Nothing can stop you from getting what you want. I remember not too long ago, the night we met, you didn't mind breaking a few rules...what was it you said to me..." he said, giving her a teasing smile. He hesitated as though trying to remember, even though they both knew what he was referring to, what she had told him many months ago, in another life.
He leaned down and whispered into her ear.
"Didn't you say something along the lines of...'Some rules are meant to be broken'?"
She shivered.
"Yes. I might have said something like that," she said, closing her eyes and going back to that night. Unlike most of her memories of her previous life, that night returned easily to her; It was the only part of her past she wasn't quite ready to let go of.
"Do you still believe it?" he murmured. As his forehead gently pressed up against her own, he closed his eyes and remembered that night as well.
She didn't answer him right away with words. They seemed beyond them at the moment, and Mark was grateful, for words only seemed to complicate what seemed to him to be a rather simple issue. When it came to Amanda, silence was his strong point. He could lure her to him better with a gaze or with the right touch, rather than with words that always seemed to further hinder him. He sensed her impending consent moments before she could verbalize it, but he waited patiently for an answer anyway.
"Yes, Mark. I still believe that sometimes someone is worth breaking all the rules for," she said, and proved that conviction with a kiss. It began sweet and tentative, and then quickly made a fast transition into something passionate and erotic, like a small campfire turning into a conflagration without warning. Mark yanked her wet panties down her legs. Once they slid past her thighs he released them, and they landed with a small thud on the tile. He pulled the rest of her clothes off with the same urgency, and soon he had a completely wet and naked Amanda pressing herself against him, completely willing and no longer denying her desire. For a moment he was in disbelief, but his arousal brought him back into the reality of the situation fairly quickly.
"Perhaps you should dry off a little more?" Mark teased, grabbing the towel Amanda had abandoned, and patted her legs up and down.
"What? Is that really necessary?" she said. In her excitement, she was oblivious to Mark's true intention. Not that mattered because he soon brought to her attention what his true motivation was for taking a southward detour, and after his mouth began sucking on the sensitive spot between her thighs, any potential complaints immediately fled her mind. All concentration was redirected on forcing her legs to remain steady. It became an especially difficult process when he used his fingers to stroke small circles in her flesh, beginning at her inner thigh and trailing upwards until he was rotating his fingers inside of her, her fluids drenching him and providing more than adequate lubrication for him to slip inside of her...whenever he was ready to end the teasing.
She called out to him, panting between each word.
"Oh...fuck...yes...Mark!"
She could feel him swallow; the small protuberance of his throat bobbed against her thigh. The suction sensation intensified as her smell and taste made him crave her more and thus suck her with more effort, which in turn made her even more aroused. Soon his saliva and her own wetness dripped off of his face, sliding down his chin and her thighs, and he felt the return of a sensation he'd experienced minutes ago when Amanda pressed his face against her breast covered in soaking wet cloth- like he was literally drowning in her. It wasn't so hard to imagine. She tasted so good, so irresistible...and if he did drown in her, what a way to go...
"Oh, fuck!" she groaned, grinding her hips to his face. She grabbed the doorknob behind her in an effort to remain upright as her toes curled in pleasure.
"Mark...I'm so close...so close...ohhhhh!" she moaned as she felt herself succumbing to the heated pleasure that had been swelling inside of her, waiting for release. Her head tilted upwards as she thrust her hips against his face. He grabbed her thighs and held her in place, sucking her even harder, gnawing on her soft flesh, and savoring every word, and eventually, every animalistic sound that came from her after words because too difficult to form. Finally the blissful sensation faded, and Mark kept swallowing her, unaware or unconcerned that she had already come. She fisted his hair and yanked him away, pulling him up to bring him face-to-face with her. His chin was drenched in their bodily fluids. Amanda thought it wasn't a bad look for him, at least not so long as his intense, arousing stare accompanied it, but he swiped it away with his sleeve.
"Damn, Mark," she said, still regaining her senses and leaning against the door for support. "Can't even wait to get to the fucking bedroom before you go down on me...where you ever planning on stopping?"
"Yes...at some point...but there's something about you that makes that very hard to do," he said, slightly panting. Even after he let her go, her scent still lingered in his mind, invading his senses. He grabbed her under her thighs and lifted her, spreading her legs, effectively forcing her to straddle him. She groaned; the feeling of his waist against the overly sensitive throbbing between her legs was both uncomfortable and stimulating at the same time. He redirected her attention to the sweet scent of her arousal as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. It was such an effective distraction that she didn't even realize they had left the bathroom until her back pressed against the mattress in his bedroom. He leaned down and kissed her so deeply that she had to literally push him away for air.
"Fuck!," she moaned, her head tilting to the side. Strands of her dark hair sprawled on the bed, like a halo of shadow.
"You sure do like that word," he muttered as he removed his clothes. She would have helped- she would have loved to strip him in a taunting, playful manner, piece by piece- but having just had an orgasm and been kissed to the point of serious air deprivation, she could hardly even breathe. By the time she caught her breath and looked back up at Mark, he was already nude and prepared for her, his erection covered with a condom, his eyes glazed with complete lust. She reached for him and mounted her body above his.
As much as he loved the idea of Amanda on top, (the view of those perfect breasts above him, bouncing in time with their thrusts, had been the object of more than one of Mark Hoffman's fantasies), but he loved seeing her fight back even more. They wrestled back and forth until he was on top of her, pinning her arms together and holding her in place beneath him. He shoved himself inside her, and she moaned, writhing against him and kicking simultaneously.
"Yes!" she yelled, figuring she'd give 'fuck' a momentary break and expand her vocabulary a little.
They carried on like that, fighting back and forth, tumbling on his bed and struggling to come out on top. He'd penetrate her, sliding in and out of her with increasing speed until he was certain one of them was close to losing it, then he'd let her go and watch her try to dominate him once more. It was amusing to watch her fail each time, to see the way she fought like hell to get on top, and then give into defeat so easily as soon as he entered her again.
"Damn it, Mark!" she protested as soon as he slipped out of her and released her wrists. If she was smart and thinking logically, she's just lay there, surrender completely, and wait for him to give in to his desires like he was bound to do eventually, but she was enraptured in an exhilarating combination of adrenaline and hormones, and the game was just as amusing to her as it was to him. Every time he held her down, he formed a self-satisfied grin that she both adored and despised. She liked knowing how much pleasure she was giving him to be submissive, but if he thought she was actually making a real effort to win, he was in for a surprise when she finally decided she'd had enough...
"Okay, you really want to be on top this time?" he murmured in her ear. She couldn't see his face but she could sense the teasing in his voice and the satisfaction he got from it.
"I will be on top this time!" she spat. She wrestled him till she was, her sudden use of real strength taking him by surprise and allowing her to finally get the advantage. She mounted him and held him in place as she impaled herself on top of him, clinching her inner muscles tightly. He shoved his hips upward, a knee jerk reaction that sent a hot wave of spasms through them both. With his physical strength, he could have easily knocked her off if he hadn't been holding her steady. He thought of forcing her to rollover and finishing on top, but the view was too good to pass up, much better than he'd imagined, and he could sense they were both close to that euphoric moment they longed for. He didn't want to prolong it anymore. The desire for gratification had become too consuming.
She rode him in a fast, steady rhythm, longing to reach that blissful release she knew was almost within grasp. The sound of Mark panting and groaning beneath her encouraged her to pick up the pace and thrust harder. She acquiesced to his wordless command.
He grabbed her sides to hold her up as she came, the sensation beginning at her core and spreading through her limbs, all the way down to her toes that dug into the sheets in response. Mark came with her, pounding his hips upwards as his nails buried into her sides, provoking a vehement increase in the volume of her screams. It also brought back the return of her favorite bedroom word, 'fuck' to be used in a creative and diverse variety of phrases, many of them nonsensical given the context, but they sounded right coming from Amanda. Then again, anything coming from her sounded alright in that tone.
She moaned and rolled off of him, nearly sliding towards the edge of the bed as she did so. She focused on the bland, patternless ceiling for a moment before she turned to look at him.
"For the record, I let you get on top that time," Mark said after he could think clearly again. It was almost the truth. He licked his lips as he thought about her taking him by surprise and dominating him. He was going to let her on top eventually. Never mind that she'd taken that victory herself before he'd made up his mind to surrender.
"Hmm, yeah. Sure. And I totally let you on top all those other times," Amanda said. She leaned down to rub her toes. They ached from the way she'd twisted them in the midst of her pleasure.
"Need a foot rub after that?" Mark asked.
"If you're offering," she said. Her leg dangled in front of him, her toes wiggling. He started kneading the bottom of her foot and moved his way up to massage each individual toe.
"Ohhhh," she moaned. His foot rubs were just as good as his back massages.
"That feel good?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. After a few minutes, she looked at Mark and smirked.
"What?" Mark asked.
"Nothing..."Amanda said.
"Why are you smiling like that?"
"Just smiling at the easy access..." she said, and clarified what she was hinting at by stroking his bare inner thigh with her foot.
"Mmmm," he said, nodding. "Yeah, well, when it comes to you, I'm always easy access."
"You mean I have an all-access pass?" Amanda teased, her toes traveling upwards. She glided her big toe over his still sensitive length and enjoyed watching him shiver.
"Yes, you are the exclusive owner of an all-access pass to Detective Mark Hoffman," he said.
"Wow!" Amanda giggled, finding humor mostly from the expression on his face as she continued to give him a rub down with her foot. Perhaps it would have been nicer to give the nerve endings on his privates a break before trying to stimulate him again...but then she wouldn't have the pleasure of seeing him shiver or jolt each time she hit a sensitive spot. Finally fed up, Mark grabbed her mischievous foot and then the other, then forced them apart so that her legs were spread to him.
"Hey!" she said. "What are you doing...hey! I'm still very sensitive down there!"
The tip of his nose nudged her clit, and he slid his thumb up and down her drenched opening.
"That's the point," Mark said, looking her in the eyes as he spoke with his head between her legs. He flicked his tongue inside of her, and she shifted uncomfortably. A little more pressure and persistence, and he had her shrieking his name.
"Mark!" she moaned. The fact that he trying to rub her already over-stimulated body didn't change the fact that what he was doing was still arousing as hell. A part of her body wanted more from him, even as her legs twitched from the new sensations, and a part of her was turned on by the way he was restraining her. This wasn't just playful wrestling- her legs where locked in place, completely immobile, like he really was in total control.
"Eye for an eye," he murmured. "Okay, we're even. I'll stop torturing you...for now."
She smiled. This was the kind of torture she wouldn't mind being subjected to now and again.
"Yeah, well, maybe some other time I'll let you restrain me on your bed," she said.
He grabbed both of her wrists and pinned her down again. Her eyebrows rose in surprise at his quick reaction. She didn't see that coming.
"Amanda, I could restrain you on my bed any time I want to," he growled. He could sense her getting aroused as he spoke. "And you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Mmmm...I'd fucking love it," she admitted, her smile expanding, revealing the top row of her teeth.
"Careful what you wish for... You might just wake up and find yourself handcuffed in the morning," he whispered in her ear.
"You wouldn't dare," she said, trying to sound intimidating but still smiling at the thought anyway. The idea was irresistible, to be totally under Mark's control...or better yet, for the detective to end up in his own handcuffs, naked and at her mercy. She bit her bottom lip in excitement.
"We'll just see," he said. He let go of her wrists and lay beside her, enjoying the view of Amanda in his bed.
"This was definitely one of my better ideas," Mark said.
"Getting me into your bed and fucking me?" Amanda smirked.
"Well, that too. I meant getting you out of there for awhile. Giving you a change of surroundings."
"Oh, yeah. I guess getting away from it all for awhile cleared my mind," Amanda said.
Getting her away from John helped clear her mind, he decided, wondering if maybe this hold John had over her could be broken by putting physical distance between them. If so, he would have to take her away more frequently.
Or if I wanted to get more drastic...
For a moment he had the absurd idea of kidnapping her and stashing her somewhere until she came to her senses. Perhaps drive across the country, or hell, take her across the border with her handcuffed to the hand grip bar in his car. Of course, that could raise some suspicion if he got pulled over by another officer, or as he encountered border patrol...well, maybe he'd just have to put her in the trunk...
What the hell am I thinking? What the fuck is wrong with me? Did I seriously just consider the idea of throwing the woman I just made love to in the trunk of my car?
His stomach did queasy flip flops. The sickening sensation spread. The only thing worse than having these disturbing thoughts was the idea that in this situation, they actually made some sense.
"Whatcha thinking about?" Amanda said.
"You've gotta get out more often. Maybe we should take a road trip one day."
"Sounds nice. Maybe one day. John needs me now."
"Yeah, but that won't be forever," he said.
Amanda understood his insinuation. John's dedication to his work would never stop, but one day, and possibly one day soon, he wouldn't be around to pursue his obsession anymore.
"Let's just not talk about that right now," she said, snuggling up against him.
"Good idea," he said. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her closer. He could feel her smile against his neck and the release of a happy sigh.
"Let's not talk at all. Let's just enjoy...being," she said. The already broad smile on her face spread even wider. "Right here. Right now. Like this."
"This is pretty nice," he murmured in her hair, kissing her forehead and the stray strands of hair that fell there. She released another soft sigh, the product of her content mood.
"If you don't stop that..." Amanda threatened in a teasing voice as Mark ran his fingers along the side of her breast.
"Ready for another round?" he asked, his thumb flicking her nipple up and down, sending tingles of pleasure through her.
"Right now?" she murmured, tired but not unwilling if he wasn't.
"No rush. We have all night," he whispered in a voice as stimulating as his active fingers. Even though they did have all night, only a few more minutes passed before they were at it again, toying with each other, playing with the idea of dominance, unable to resist touching each other anywhere and everywhere upon their bare flesh. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He'd wound up on top again, but that was fine with her.
She'd just have to wait to catch him off-guard again.
In the middle of the night, Mark awakened with a severe thirst. When he looked down and saw Amanda curled against him, he grinned, despite feeling a small sense of remorse that he'd possibly have to stir her in order to get out of bed. He untangled himself from her and managed to slip away with as little disturbance as possible. He watched her for signs of waking and saw her scoot closer to the spot where he had been. A smile spread on his still tired face as he watched her sleep. Even unconscious, she possessed an alluring quality that made her difficult to walk away from.
After he retrieved a cup from the kitchen and poured himself a much needed glass of water to sooth his thirst, he stepped on a tiny piece of glass from the mess he'd failed to clean up earlier. With only slight prying, he managed to eradicate the shard from his foot. He glanced down and saw Angelina's picture now tainted with Amanda's blood. The dark red splotches smeared the bottom of the head shot, right across her throat, an awful reminder of the way Mark had found her lying on the bed so many years ago. Throwing away a picture of his sister, despite the fact that it had been damaged, seemed sacrilegious. Tossing it in the trash while standing before her shrine would have felt like desecrating a bible in front of a church. He grabbed the photo and turned it face down as if by merely not looking at it, he could wash the malicious memory from his conscience, but unfortunately, the awful reminder lingered. He knelt down and cleaned up the broken frame, then looked up at Angelina's shrine like a repentant sinner.
"I know what she thinks," he said to the bookcase, his face serious, as though it were a channel to communicate with Angelina directly. "But I still believe that I could have done more to save you. And I'll never forgive myself for failing you."
He tossed the pieces in the trash and stared at the blankness of the other side of the now ruined photograph of his beloved sister. There were copies of that picture at work, so he could throw it away and replace it in as little as 24 hours...but instead he picked it up and looked at it again, an act of pure masochism. In his mind, he had relieved what Seth had done to her so many times, he wondered how it was possible he hadn't been desensitized by the memory. Now it was slightly worse, because he couldn't help but see the parallels between the hold Seth once had on Angelina and the one John currently had on Amanda...
But I can still do something about that...I can save her from John.
Mark stuffed the picture in a drawer he'd dedicated to miscellaneous items, making a mental note to replace the photo as soon as possible. Angelina's shrine was far from barren, but he was so used to everything being in the right spot, that a single missing photo gave him the sense that it had been defiled. He turned the lights off and rejoined Amanda, taking comfort in the feeling of her beside him, his mind far more preoccupied as he returned to bed than before he got up.
Author's Note: Sorry for the lag in updates. I hope you guys enjoyed. I'm already working on the next chapter. Comments are appreciated and the fans that leave them are adored. :D