Something to read is better than nothing to read Part II

Whoo-hoo! For the first time, I've created an OC that I don't like. I'm going to write Galloway Buys a New Pair of Socks to recover from this.


“Where are you going?”

Marcus let his hand drop from the doorknob guiltily. “I was just going for a walk,” he said gruffly, turning. Olga stood at the top of the staircase, wrapped in floor-length satin. Beautiful…no, perfect.

“It’s dark out,” she protested, laughing. “And cold, too. You must sleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” He had been sleeping. He had been dreaming. Chill hallways at Hogwarts, being watched, watching. Racing in between the turrets and spires of the castle, late at night. Thinking. “I was just going to go for a walk and think.”

“Brood, I think is the word, yes?” she asked, eyebrow arched, tripping lightly down the steps. She paused at the bottom, expectantly.

“Just thinking,” Marcus muttered, reaching out to take her arm. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

“You must not think so much,” she informed him, pertly. “It leads to melancholy, and then to despair, and then to becoming a Russian novelist.”

“I should just obey my base animal instincts then?” he growled playfully, pulling her to him. So tiny that he had to lift her even to kiss her. He could feel her full breasts through her thin negligee, pressed into his chest as he slipped his tongue in her mouth, one hand sliding under her arse to support her. So lush. Womanly.

Her contented little moan spurred him on, as his lips trailed down her throat, over the tops of her breasts. Sweet, soft, anonymous flesh. He ran his hand over her small foot, sliding slowly upward. The position was awkward but she was so still he could manage it. A wall would be better…that would be within the rules…

His hand was halfway up her thigh, when she spoke.

“Marcus, stop,” she murmured. He did, setting her back down gently, in an almost Pavlovian response. Only when he had put a few feet between them, did he allow himself to complain.

“Olga…” he exhaled, harshly. They’d been farther than that before.

“No,” she replied firmly. “Not when you were off to partake of another’s services just a few minutes ago.”

“I was going for a walk,” he barked.

“As you did last week, at the reception at the Louvre?” she asked, icily. He froze. He hadn’t know that she knew about that.

“I was drunk. We were fighting,” he said, flatly. “You stormed out of the ballroom saying that you never wanted to see me again.”

“You didn’t come after me.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

“Of course I did,” she said lightly. “I love you. You are my knight in shining armor.” She kissed him lightly on the lips, and, before he could respond, moved back to the staircase. As she climbed, she looked over her shoulder at him. “Someday, you are going to fall in love with me.”

And he had.