Sadly, the renovations weren't complete, so Mark's initial idea of taking me into our new bedroom didn't work. Instead, he carried me up the steps to the bell tower, to the small strike base that we'd used to save Tabby from the Confederation. The entrance was still secret, as according to the plans we gave the contractor, the tower was sealed off. Never setting me down, Mark walked the distance from what had been the rectory to our hiding place. "Can you hit the switch, please?" he asked, pointing with his nose to the small, almost invisible button embedded into the wood beams of the tower. "My hands are wonderfully full."
You don't know how much of a turn on it is to be held in arms as strong as Mark's. I could barely feel a tremor of effort as he carried me up the thirty two stairs to the top of the tower. I could feel the bulge of his biceps against my back and under my legs, and the thick swell of his chest muscles against my side as he carried me, smiling at me the whole way. "Thank you," he said while he climbed. "You don't know how every day I'm grateful that you came into my life and saved me. You're making me into a better man, and for that I am eternally indebted."
"I love you," I replied, kissing him. He never lost a step, carrying me over to the thin mattress we had set up in one corner of the room at the top of the tower. He knelt and laid me down gently, kissing my lips before taking his arms out from underneath me. I giggled then sneezed, looking around. "We need to dust up here."
"It'll work for now," Mark replied, sitting down and taking off his sport coat. He was wearing a plain white button down shirt underneath, and simple charcoal gray slacks. Starting at the top, he took off his shirt, letting each inch exposed add to my growing excitement. "Well, aren't you going to join me?"
I looked down at my outfit, a light smock like blouse and designer jeans. Biting my lip, I ran my hands up and over my breasts, shaking my head. "I was thinking maybe I'd enjoy being stripped instead," I said. "Unless you don't want me naked."
"No, that wouldn't do," he replied, standing up. Finishing with his shirt, he pulled it off slowly, revealing his rippling torso. His new tattoos were dark against his skin, another part of his new identity as Marcus Smiley. With a Airborne Ranger tattoo on his left shoulder and a few other designs on his back, he looked different, but still the same love shone in his eyes. He gave me the same familiar smirk as his hands froze by the fastener of his pants, his eyebrow going up as he looked at me. "Should I take these off?"
"Please," I said, my breath thick in my chest. How is it that watching the sexiest man in the world makes it feel like you're breathing pleasant syrup?
"Since you said the magic word," Mark said, opening his pants and letting them fall to the floor. His cock was already semi-hard inside his boxer briefs, and he knelt down, crawling over to me.
Starting with my feet, he pulled my open-toed high heels off one by one, kissing and licking up my leg, starting at my feet. The feel of his tongue sliding up my leg sent heat straight through my body, and I groaned in anticipation. Kissing down the sole of my foot, he laid my feet together on the mattress so he could reach up and unsnap my jeans. My hips jerked in need as he pulled the form fitting denim down my legs, kissing my thighs as he went, skipping the ticklish area below my right kneecap and setting the jeans beside us on the floor. "You are more beautiful than ever," he whispered as he lifted my right foot up, kissing my calf muscle and working his way down to let his tongue lick behind my kneecap.
I don't know what the nerve connection is, but it felt like his tongue was just outside my *, and I could barely contain myself. "I need you."
"You have me," I replied, spreading my legs and letting the scent of my wetness flood the room. "Forever."
Mark answered by kneeling between my legs, kissing the soft skin above the waistband of my panties. Working his way up, he unbuttoned my top while his lips found all the little places that four months of lovemaking had allowed him to discover. He paused just below the cups of my bra, skipping my breasts to finish his unbuttoning and pulling my top off. Propped above me on his elbows, I could feel the warm thick bulge of his cock pushing against my panties, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. "So beautiful," he whispered before kissing me.
Our lips and tongues twisted and caressed each other, his hips working in small circles between my legs, rubbing and building electricity between us. Mark always favored compression style boxer briefs, the Lycra-like fabric sliding over my cotton bikini briefs and causing both of us to stop our kisses, small gasps filling the silence of the tower. Mark pulled back and knelt, letting his hands come to the front clasp of my bra. "May I?"
I was touched and moved by the sincere honesty in his voice. Here he was, the most powerful and sexual man I'd ever known, who literally could bring life or death with a single touch, and he was asking if he could take off my bra, even though we'd made love dozens of times before and he already knew the answer. "Yes," I said, placing my hands over his. "I'm yours."