***The anxiety, tension and forays into the unknown just keep our players ramped up into the night. Sometimes a chance encounter is exactly what you want to avoid...other times...well...You'll just have to read to find out!***

***A very happy BIRTHDAY to my lovely friend, Roar526! Rock it, baby!***

***Oh yes, it's rated M now! I'm serious...don't be suddenly hiding your eyes and pretending it's too smutty in a little bit...you knew it was coming!***

"Listen, I cannot do everything by myself. I need someone to go in there with me. No! I lost my inside man, probably dead. And Cucuy, greedy turd that he is, has ratted me out and has dissapeared. Plus, I'm pretty sure the Cartel's shadowing me. Now, listen. I have got a swell bunch of guys going to intercept Marquez's army, but they've got no guns! Now listen. I want you to understand me. This is no time to screw the pooch because this is supposed to be the big dance number. Hello? Hello, are you there?

Ok, ok I'm going to freak right out!"

- Once Upon a Time in Mexico

"Where I come from we don't shoot horses when they get ornery; we tame 'em."

– Ride Him, Cowboy

It took far too long to extricate himself from Diane, the woman determined to either ride him or geld him; neither going to happen in this lifetime. She finally accepted the fact that the ranch hands, as a whole, were not for rent, sale or lease for her pleasure, and pouted coyly as she retreated into the approaching night. It was time to make his own retreat, knowing Mary had now had way too much time to stew, and he knew he was going to have a fight on his hands.

Marshall grabbed his hat from atop the hay bale and retucked his shirt as he began the quest for his partner. Though likely more dangerous than poking a sleeping badger with a sharp stick, he resigned himself to seeking her out in order to preserve his chances for waking on the green side of the grass tomorrow morning. The dust of the day clung to his jeans and boots, and he rubbed at his face to find that he also was in need of a shave. It had been a long day, and he hoped Mary had, by this time, worked through enough of the mental chaos that she would be capable of rational thought. He knew she was well aware of her roommate's proclivity for cowboy extracurricular activities, and he hoped to hell the woman knew him well enough to realize the situation had been thrust upon him.

The sky had faded to a blue only created by nature, and he could hear the horses nickering to each other as they settled in for the night. The wind was still out of the west, bringing with it the scent of river valley, sage and a just a hint of manure from the paddocks out beyond the smaller barn. If he closed his eyes, he could be back on his uncle's ranch. Standing on the wrap around veranda as the warm glow of kitchen lights illuminated the grass at the bottom of the porch steps and the sounds of his aunt and cousins cleaning up the dishes filtered out into the fledgling night. A time of retrospection and dreams in the only place in the world where the two didn't battle each other.

A piercing whistle jarred him from his memories; Manuel calling the dogs into the barn for the night, and Marshall breathed deeply of the heady air before beginning his hunt for Mary.

-o-o-o-o-

She hated that feeling. That feeling of abrupt betrayal that knocked the breath out of you and left you hot and flushed with shame and wrath. Your brain screamed 'no, no, no,' while rationality made its last stand with weak excuses for plausible deniability. Mary had rushed from the barn before she let herself have time to think. She had barely had the presence of mind to remain in character for the brief time she had to interact with Diane before the world started to fade to red and it was time to leave. Retreat. Hide.

"Jesus," she mumbled to herself as she rounded the corner of the smaller barn and headed towards a scraggly copse of trees hiding a small playground. "Get a grip, Mary. Diane's been trying to get into his pants since he got off the fucking bus." Yeah, Mary, but how do you know he hasn't wanted to do the same? Her ego refused to be silent despite the obvious explanation for the situation. Shaking her head vehemently, she plopped down onto one of the swings and dug her toes into the wood chipped ruts beneath it. Marshall was playing a role, same as she. Flirtation and innuendo came with the job, and she needed to convince herself that what she saw was not a situation her partner had initiated.

Suddenly pissed at herself for even caring as to who was the instigator, she lurched back out of the swing and stalked over to lean against one of the poles. Stared hard into the deepening night. A month ago she would've gone to the lodge with everyone else to have some drinks and given Marshall a ribbing the next day to make him blush. But now…she sighed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest. Scorned. That was the word that popped into her head while she tried to dissect the situation. Mary barked a short laugh into the breeze as she remembered the last time she felt that way: twenty three years and one marriage ago. She had never wanted to feel that way again.

She heard the cows low their goodnights in the pasture beyond her hideout and peered into the dusk to make out their silhouettes. Their presence refocused her on the present. This op was complicated enough without adding a new twist, she decided, and she didn't need her senses dulled by worrying about who her partner might have to diddle to get the job done.

He was probably looking for her. Mary kicked a few woodchips into the bushes before deciding to head back. Time to get her head on straight and put emotions back on the dusty shelf where they belonged.

/\/\/\/\\\\\\\\\\\\\/\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\/\/\/\

Eliot had convinced Sheryl to take down the saddle and let him drive her out through the ranch to look for Leanne. Initially his plan was to recheck the barns and lodge for the child, fairly convinced that mother and daughter's paths had just not crossed, but as Sheryl's quiet words filled the air that hope began to die. He reached over her to hang up the last piece of tack as she finished telling him about what she saw at the river.

"Sheryl, are you sure they weren't just lost? Just taking a break?" He had to ask. Her scathing answer was expected.

"I know what I saw, Eliot," she hissed with fists balled at her side. "They couldn't have been more than fourteen…fifteen tops. Scared. One was crying. It was all wrong, and I was just about to go to them when I saw the horse…and Alvarez."

He cursed, and Sheryl hiccupped a breath as her anger again faded into fear. "He threw rocks at the crying one and then threatened to use a cattle prod on them if they didn't get moving." She shook her head vehemently. "It was awful. And I knew…I just knew what it was, you know? I read the paper and see the stories online. I knew it was happening here and I just…"

She spun away from him and gripped her head with her hands. "Dammit, Eliot! Why didn't I just let it be? Why did I have to go and try to make it right when it had nothing to do with me? If I had just let it alone, I wouldn't be in this fucking nightmare!"

He placed his hands on her shoulders as the pit of dread in his stomach grew a little deeper. "What did you do?"

Raising her face to the ceiling, Sheryl took a deep breath before replying. "I reported it to Brad." She glanced behind her to see his shocked look, grabbed his sleeve, and pulled him towards the doors before continuing. "I told him what I saw and what I suspected and that he should call the police. I don't know what I was thinking."

He stopped again, which jerked her to a halt also, and grabbed her upper arms to turn her to face him. "What did he do?"

Her mouth twisted in distaste as tears again welled in her eyes. "He laughed at me, and I knew I was screwed. Told me to keep my mouth shut and my nose out of his business. Tried to convince me that I'd smear Gary's name if I went to the police with the story. That no one would believe me because he'd tell them I was -" She ducked her head and sniffled, wiping her nose with a trembling hand.

"It's all right," he reassured her. "I get it. Threatened everything you are, including your kids, and sent you off to live in fear."

She looked up at him gratefully and nodded, then pulled him towards the door again. He went willingly as his brain began to link pieces of a very scattered puzzle together. He thought of shootings and scared women, out of town visitors during working hours, little suitcases under little beds, and rumors of men with badges buying one too many donuts on the local scene.

"You went right over the heads of the local PD, didn't you?" Eliot asked as Sheryl led him along the side of the barn towards the parking lot. "Something drove you take this higher up the food chain." She apparently interpreted his statement as an accusation and whirled to face him.

"What would you have done? Would you have kept your mouth shut knowing what was going to happen to those girls? Could you live with yourself?" Anger and impatience had her spitting the words at him. "I'm not going to discuss my decisions with you right now, Eliot. I need to find my daughter and I'm going with or without you."

Sheryl turned to stalk towards the lot and Eliot trotted to catch up with her. "I'm right here with you," he promised, knowing there was much more to the story.

/\/\/\/\\\\\\\\\\\\\\/\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\/\/\/

Marshall was back in the main barn. Mary had either decided to join the tipplers in the main lodge or had retreated to her cabin; he was secretly glad either way. His mood had soured during his unsuccessful hunt - thoughts turned to witnesses, Taliswell and modes of retribution - and he knew he'd by fairly unsympathetic to any of his partner's accusations. All would be back to normal by morning, he was sure, and now he just wanted to retrieve his gear from where he had dropped it earlier and head to bed.

The lights were out in the east hall, but illumination from the parking lot beyond the doors allowed safe navigation without disturbing the few sleeping inhabitants. He had left his things in one of the empty stalls towards the end. Reaching it, he stepped in to grab his bag, tossed it over one shoulder, and was ready to leave again when truck lights pierced the gloom. Someone had parked right next to the structure. A car door slammed, and curiosity drew him to the edge of the open barn doors. His gut broadcast the need to remain in shadow, and he positioned himself to get a good look at the occupants.

Brad stood under the light and stuffed something in his wallet, calling to his passenger teasingly as he replaced the wallet into his back pocket.

"C'mon, girl, your momma will be waiting for you. And don't get those sticky fingers on my steering wheel."

Leanne jumped down from the passenger seat and turned to push the door shut with a shoulder before skipping over to join her uncle. She carried a paper bag from the local Farm and Fleet, and as Brad turned to walk towards the main lodge, she grabbed his sleeve and tried to pull him back towards the barn.

"Uncle Brad," she whined. "I want to give Peppermint her new bed. She can put her babies in it."

He shook off her arm and palmed the back of her head to turn her towards the original direction. "Tomorrow, Leanne. It's late, and I've got work to do. That cat's not ready to move those kittens yet anyway."

Marshall raised his eyebrows in surprise at the surprisingly familial scene, not expecting Brad to display even this hint of affection for his niece. He had actually conversed with the man a number of times, and his radar had ceaselessly pegged the "slimeball" category throughout the interaction. Though the scene in front of him was seemingly benign, he had a feeling there were unseen malignancies buried in intention and agenda. Just as he was turning away to resume his retreat to the bunks there was a shout from past the truck. A hint of panic in a voice otherwise expressing relief. Oh yeah, here we go, he thought, turning back into his hiding place.

Sheryl came into view at a trot, Eliot a few feet behind her, and Marshall sucked in a breath. The miasma of a bad feeling degraded into a full blown stink.

"Leanne!" her voice was shrill as she held out both hands and beckoned for her daughter. "Come here, right now!"

The child must have picked up on the urgency in her mother's voice as she scampered over to her waiting arms without protest. Sheryl squatted down to hug her, then pulled back to look the girl over carefully. Mumbling questions Marshall couldn't hear, Sheryl swept Leanne's hair back from her face and pushed up both sleeves, even turned her around to look at her back before pulling her back into a hug and glaring at Brad. "What did you do?" More of an accusation than a question.

Brad stood in one place and smiled smugly, twirling his truck keys around one finger as Sheryl's quick inspection took place. He shrugged one shoulder in apparent innocence as she asked the question; looked to Eliot as if the other man would help him out. Eliot, for his part, was still as a statue as he assessed the situation in front of him. The wrangler's face was in shadow, but his body language advertised the threat that couldn't be seen in his eyes. Marshall was reminded of the air before a storm: heavy with warning while the leaves started to rustle ahead of the danger. He quietly set his bag on the shelves near him and unzipped it enough to slide in one hand. Fingered the Glock resting just inside. Wondered where Mary was one more time.

Brad chuckled before he answered. "She's been going on about those kittens for hours now. Since I was running into town I thought I'd take her with me. Let her grab a few things for the critters and treat her to a DQ." He grinned wider and took a few steps towards the pair as Sheryl stood and released Leanne. "I didn't think you'd mind, Sher. I know you can't keep your eye on her all the time…"

He flipped his keys into his palm and closed a fist over them, turning his head to look at Eliot as the grin now faded. "Especially now that you might want some alone time with Sweeney here."

Eliot shifted his stance with Brad's approach, and Marshall was sure he could now hear the rumble and crackle of metaphoric thunder and lightning. He almost jumped out of his skin when a hand gripped his elbow.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mary hissed, somehow knowing to keep her voice down as she peered around him. "You look like Pee Wee Herman at a Saturday matinee -"

She caught sight of the parking lot tableau and tried to push by him with a curse. "Shit!" Marshall swung out an arm to bar her passage.

"Don't," he warned. "It's still just bullies on the playground right now. We need to let them duke it out." His words were more prophetic than he would've thought.

Sheryl said something to Leanne and the girl nodded, jumped up to kiss her mother on the cheek and took off with the perpetual jog of a child towards the main lodge. There was a moment of calm as the adults watched her retreat, then Sheryl stepped forward to land a well executed right hook into the side of Brad's face. No preamble…no warning, and the man stumbled backwards with a shout as all hell broke loose.

Marshall missed the first few countermoves as he was busy restraining his partner. Mary had jumped out with intent to enter the fray, and he clawed at the back of her jacket to bring her up short. Wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her back behind the door.

"Wait…wait," he instructed, grunting as she landed an elbow to his gut. "Dammit, Mary, we have to let it be. This isn't Albuquerque, and we're not supposed to even be here."

Marshall's words penetrated her anger fogged brain even as she watched Sheryl again launch herself at the ranch manager before he could shake off the blow.

"I hate you, you bastard!" Sheryl yelled, her face a mask of rage. "I hate you!"

Brad caught her arm this time, lifted his own to retaliate, and was intercepted by Eliot. The wrangler simultaneously pushed Sheryl out of the way as he blocked Brad's blow and spun the man into a loose headlock. He was fast, and Mary suspected he had seen fights like this before…or started them. Not knowing what had led up to the confrontation, and seeing Sheryl at a now safe distance, she reluctantly trusted her partner's judgment and ceased fighting him to watch; attention focused on her witness. The woman had backpedaled with Eliot's push, stumbled, and landed on her ass about ten feet from the now struggling men. She pushed to her knees and cursed at the opponents, the only spectator close to the ring.

It was an uneven wrestling match, Eliot possessing strength and training that Brad no longer had nor cultivated, and Eliot had the taller man trapped in a painful arm bar before the ruckus had attracted any onlookers. Brad cursed and spit, but Eliot gave him no quarter.

"Sheryl," the wrangler was curt. "Go get the kids and take them home. Stay there."

She tried to argue, but Eliot was insistent, and the woman finally headed across the parking lot with fearful glances in her wake. Mary relaxed against Marshall as her witness retreated to safety, though her heart continued to pound with unquenched anxiety as the power play in the parking lot had not resolved. Finally, Eliot levered himself off of Brad with a well placed knee in the ribs to keep the loser down for a few more counts while the victor backed away. Brad lurched to his feet and whirled to point a finger at Eliot.

"You can pack your fucking bags, Sweeney. You're done here."

Eliot didn't flinch, only offered his own words of advice. "Stay away from her…and those kids." He stared at the other man for a moment more before turning his back to walk away, his parting shot a promise. "And I think I'll be staying."

The marshals ducked back into the empty stall as Brad limped over to his truck. He kicked the tire and slammed a palm into the door a few times in a fit of pique before wrenching it open and climbing inside. A minute later he was tearing out the parking lot with only the running lights on, a menace well beyond his domain.

Mary leaned back against the stall wall and blew out a long slow breath. "Jeeesus. This just gets better and better."

Marshall stood staring down the dark hallway, tense and alert. The barn seemed deserted now, but he couldn't talk himself down. Finally he turned to her with his own sigh. "So it would seem. And do you now see why I didn't want you jumping into that? Would've blown our cover for nothing."

She sneered at him and levered off the wall to square her shoulders. "You don't even know what 'that' was, idiot. She's going heels to his heaven, it seems, and from the way he handed Brad his own ass, I'm guessing the pillow talk isn't about china patterns." Hands on her hips now as she snorted in disbelief.

"But then, how would you know what was really going on when you've been too busy trying to get your own cover blown in a completely different way."

He rolled his eyes and tossed his hands in the air. "And there it is. Knew it wouldn't take long." Turned to face her while drawing himself up to his full height. "That was nowhere near what it looked like and you know it."

Mary stepped closer, nearly toe to toe in challenge. "It looked like you were getting ready to pony up to the farm."

She was close enough he could smell her shampoo. A cricket began to serenade them from the stall next door and the suddenly oppressive darkness seemed to wend its way into his senses. He wanted to fight.

"It's an undercover operation, Mary. Can't always be too picky with your…indiscretions…if you're to get the job done." Her head snapped up to meet his gaze and he could feel her ire rising.

"Is that what you were doing this morning, Marshall? Getting the job done?" her voice dropped an octave with threat, and she reached out to trail a single finger down his stomach. Let it rest right above his belt buckle. His abs twitched in response and her lips turned up in a half grin. Predatory.

"Oh, did you think I was done?" he asked, matching her tone. He caught her hand with his own and lifted it to his mouth. Turned it over to place a kiss on the inside of her wrist and smiled his own smile at her soft gasp.

She opened her mouth to reply and he moved in, still holding her wrist while he buried the other hand in her hair. Her words became a surprised moan as his lips covered hers and his tongue slid along her teeth, silencing her as her body shouted its sudden arousal. The whole day had been fraught with pent up anxiety and too much emotion, and now the choice between flight or fight carried another, more pleasant, option. Mary stretched up to wrap her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss with her own tongue, the roughness of his stubble on her chin urging her on. Indiscretions be damned, she wanted him now.

He couldn't stop kissing her. Her lips, her jaw, her throat…all so soft. Her scent filled his nostrils and every breath only aroused him more. Both hands wound into her hair, Marshall worked back to her mouth and sucked her bottom lip between his teeth for a gentle nibble. Mary moaned again and her hands pulled at his t-shirt, freeing it from his jeans.

Her fingers burned his skin as they crawled around to his stomach, and he bucked against her as the sensitive skin reacted, jeans straining against an erection begging for release. Pain…pleasure…want. He kissed her harder, tongue plundering the soft, sweet treasure as he cupped the back of her head to hold her securely. Marshall's feet knew the way to the wall of the stall and he was moving without conscious thought, all senses overwhelmed with the feel, taste and smell of the woman driving him mad.

Mary grunted slightly when they collided with the hard surface, and as her hands glided over his nipples, Marshall raised his head with a tortured hiss.

"Ah, god, Mary. I'm not going be able to stop soon…I can't…" his protest was cut short as she pinched him lightly and he sucked in a breath.

"I don't want to stop," she murmured feverishly, leaning into him to nip her way up his neck to suckle his jaw. "I want you to touch me."

His universe blurred when Mary's mouth reached his earlobe, her soft tongue swirling around the lobe before she drew it into her mouth. His own hands found their way to the hem of her shirt and quickly rucked it up to expose her bra to the night air. Marshall wasn't even sure whose moans filled the air anymore, just knew he needed to feel her skin…taste her. He deftly undid her bra as she gently raked her nails down his torso.

Marshall leaned back slightly, pushed the cups of the modest bra up to expose Mary's breasts and was dizzy with the sight. They were perfect. Full and heavy, nipples pink and hardened by arousal and the cool air. He ran his hands over them reverently, feeling their weight in his palms and sighing as she groaned with the stimulation. He circled the pebbled peaks with the pads of his fingers, mesmerized, and Mary jerked on his jeans.

"Marshall," it was a groaned plea, "please."

"I wanted to take our time," he whispered back, unable to draw his eyes away from her breasts. "Wanted to please you slowly…over and over…"

"Another time," Mary urged, reaching up to capture his head and force his eyes upward. He dragged his gaze up to hers and was pinned by the depth of want in her eyes, irises nearly completely black with desire. "There'll be another time. But right now…now…"

He needed no further urging and lowered his mouth to her breast. Mary arched into him as he wrapped one arm around her and used the other to massage and roll her other nipple as he suckled one. She tasted of soap and sweat and heaven and he was lost.

Mary staggered slightly as Marshall's mouth closed around her. Her ears rang with the blood pounding through her veins, and as he laved at her nipple with a hungry moan, she wasn't sure she could be more aroused. Her groin throbbed to the point of pain, and she knew only want. She needed him. All of him. On her…in her.

Working her hands around his elbows, Mary slid her hands down his sides and over the front of his jeans to cup his hardened erection. Marshall pushed his hips into her hands and moaned as he lightly nipped her breast. She faintly heard herself whimper with the bolt of pleasure that shot through her, but her hands never stopped stroking him. Finally frustrated by the barrier, she fumbled for the button and worked it free. Fuzzy minded with his attentions to her other breast, she shakily released the zipper and swiftly plunged her hand down the front of his boxers to embrace him. She closed her eyes in pleasure at the feel of his velvety hardness and stroked the length of him with murmured praise.

Her fingers curled around him and a swift and dangerous jolt of current coursed through his body; had him seeing stars and pulling her breast deep into his mouth. She whispered and stroked him and he knew he wouldn't last if they continued at this place. Raising his head, Marshall again captured her mouth with a bruising kiss as Mary worked her other hand into his shorts to cup his testicles. On fire…he was on fire…and he had to have her. She had to be his.

Marshall's hands left her breasts to scurry south to her own jeans, swiftly undoing any barriers. He could smell their arousal now…their heat, and all he could think of was what awaited him. Her warm belly quivered as he touched it, and she made little sounds of urgency against his lips which only drove him to fumble with the edges of her zipper. Finally defeating the fabric, he slid his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties and Mary shuddered with a long, drawn out moan.

His fingers…oh, god…his fingers, she thought, her own hands unconsciously mimicking his rhythm and tempo as he stroked and teased and slowly slid those fingers into her. She thrust her hips against his hand, body begging for more pleasure…less pleasure…something more. She sucked his tongue into her mouth in need as their kiss became frantic.

Wet…soft…hot…exquisite…the words tumbled through his addled brain as he touched her. Her folds parted for his questing fingers, and as he sunk them into her and felt her clench softly around him he could feel his balls tightening in readiness. It was time.

Marshall reared back suddenly and Mary gasped in surprise.

"What?" she asked anxiously as she tried to recapture him, her hands caught in his boxers.

He stared at her swollen lips, tousled hair and nearly naked state as he fumbled in his back pocket. It was permanently etched into his mind, this picture of her with eyes full of want and desire and her hands down the front of his jeans, and as he fished a condom out of his wallet, Marshall leaned in to gently place a chaste kiss on her lips; smiled at the question in her eyes.

"We don't need that," she whispered, now seeing his intent.

Gently removing her hands, he pushed his boxers down enough to give him room to quickly don the condom. "Clean up," he replied, and then he had her in his arms again.

Her protests were quickly dismissed as the full heat of his arousal was pressed against her belly. He kissed her mouth, her neck…his hands cupping her breasts then sliding around to grab her ass and pull her roughly against him. Mary wiggled in frustration and gasped her displeasure at being denied.

"This isn't going to work…my jeans. And we can't…can't undress…" God, it was hard to think when her ovaries were exploding.

Marshall couldn't wait anymore…couldn't withstand the intense torture of feeling her skin on his own and not being able to bury himself in her. He gently spun her to face the wall, then pushed her jeans and panties down around her thighs. She murmured surprise and immediately tried to turn back around.

"Marshall, wait…I don't…"

He slid his hands around to stroke her belly and up to cup both breasts, squeezing softly as he leaned in to nibble her ear. Whispered encouragement. "I can touch all of you this way." One hand wandered back down to tease her wet curls and he flicked his finger against her clit. "Feel you. Taste you. Just trust me." He suckled the soft spot beneath her ear and felt her shiver and relax. Her hands reached up to grip the wall in front of her and she moaned assent.

He touched her, stroked her; fingers teasing curves and skin while his lips revered her neck and shoulders until she panted and begged and he thought he might need another condom. Sliding one hand up her back to bury his hand in her hair, he took himself in his other hand and guided his heavy erection past the cleft of her buttocks and between her legs to nestle in her heat. Sliding against her wetness was torture, and Mary rocked back slightly with the sensation as pleas fell from her lips.

"Jesus, Marshall…please!" He could see her tighten her grip on the wall.

Positioning himself at her entrance, Marshall leaned forward to finally push himself slowly inside her. Sight and hearing were forgotten as every nerve cell was overtaken with the feel of that final journey. The constriction of her jeans around her thighs, the limitations of the position and Mary's throaty mewl as she closed around him made him think he may not last longer than one thrust. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he was finally buried inside of her with her buttocks snug against his groin, and he gripped her hip forcefully to maintain any shred of control.

"So tight," he groaned, resting his forehead against the back of her head as he held her still and felt her tremble. "Don't move…I'm…ah, god…you're so tight…"

Mary concentrated on the heat building between her legs. She was throbbing, and as her partner entered her slowly, filling her completely, the tingle of ultimate pleasure began to swirl deep within her. She reached behind her with one hand to grip his hip and dug her nails in to encourage him closer…deeper. He touched every part of her and she thought she might come without him even having to move. His breath on her neck, fingers tangled in her hair and urgent murmurs only pushed her closer to the edge. She clenched her muscles involuntarily as her body begged for mercy.

Mary tightened around him and Marshall's paper thin control ripped apart. He began to thrust deeply and slowly as he slid his free hand around to slide through her curls and stroke her, pulling her tightly against him with each thrust and pressing on that sensitive nub. He curled around her to whisper against her temple as he quickly worked them into a frenzy. Mary's sounds of pleasure drove him to move faster…harder, her jerky counterthrusts dragging primal grunts of need from his throat as he pressed his face into her neck. And when she arched and bucked against him with a hoarse cry, shuddering with her release, he claimed her for his own; drove himself deeply inside her and bit down on her neck to muffle his shout as orgasm overwhelmed him.

Paradise.

*** *blinks* Well then. We've got things going asplody all over the place. I certainly hoped you enjoyed the rating amp! Please let me know if it was good for you! hahaha :) REVIEW! ***