Savage Love || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 46

Blair POV

I placed the last bowl of chips on the table, stepping back to take in the setup. I'd never been much for hosting, but the outdoor area looked incredible for Marshall's birthday. His daughters had helped, adding those little touches that made it feel like a true family celebration. Tonight was all about him.

Upstairs, I carefully put on the outfit I'd chosen: a black lace bodysuit under a fitted black skirt, a leather jacket, and my favorite Loubs. As I let my hair down, I caught my reflection in the mirror and felt a thrill of excitement. Tonight, I wanted it to feel special, not just for him, but for us.

As I adjusted the last strap on my heel, a low whistle came from the doorway. I turned, catching Marshall's gaze lingering on me, a look that sent warmth all through me.

"Damn. You my gift tonight? 'Cause I'm ready to send everyone home," he said, his smirk deepening as he moved toward me.

I laughed, reaching out and gently grabbing his beard. "Nice try. I spent forever planning this, so you're gonna go downstairs and pretend to enjoy it."

He snorted, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close, his touch grounding and warm. "I'll love it because you planned it, but I refuse to enjoy myself," he teased, leaning down, brushing a soft kiss on my lips.

There was something in his eyes tonight, a look that lingered, deepening into an intensity that left me breathless. His kiss felt different, more careful, like he was holding something back. I leaned into him, wanting more, but I managed to pull away, smiling.

"Save some of that energy," I whispered, nudging him toward the door. "You've got a party to attend."

With one last lingering glance, he relented, and I followed, trying to ignore the warmth that had settled low in my stomach.

The party was in full swing, with music, laughter, and the easygoing hum of friends and family filling the air. I watched Marshall move through the crowd, his usual guardedness softened into genuine smiles, and it hit me how much this night meant—not just to him, but to me too.

As I took a moment to catch my breath, I turned and found myself face-to-chest with him, nearly spilling my drink in the process.

"Fuck me, Marshall!" I muttered, steadying myself as his arms came up around me, a soft chuckle rumbling from him.

"I thought you'd never ask," he said, the mischievous glint in his eyes making me laugh despite myself.

"Oh, please. Don't pretend you haven't been waiting to use that line."

He shrugged, smirking. "Can you blame me?"

Before I could respond, Fifty popped up beside us, throwing an arm around our shoulders. "You two need a room, or what? Because everyone here is getting a little too much tension off of you," he teased.

Marshall shrugged him off, giving him a playful shove. "Get your arm off her and mind your damn business."

I laughed as they traded jabs, the warmth in their voices and the easy rhythm of their banter settling around us. Throughout the night, I felt Marshall's gaze on me, lingering longer than before. His eyes would find mine, that warmth deepening each time until it was all I could feel. The night wore on, and yet the tension between us only grew, simmering beneath every look, every shared smile.

When the last guest left, we were finally alone, the silence of the house amplifying the charged air between us as we moved upstairs. He went into the bathroom, and I took a breath, my heart pounding in anticipation of what I knew was coming.

When he returned, dressed down in a soft t-shirt and sweats, I patted the bed beside me, inviting him to sit. He settled next to me, brushing a stray hair from my face, his eyes softening as he looked at me.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice low, his gaze steady.

I took a breath, feeling the words at the edge of my tongue, the truth of what I'd been holding back. "I think... it's time we stopped dancing around this," I began, meeting his eyes. "Things have changed between us, and I know you feel it too. Friends don't usually... kiss like that."

A soft chuckle escaped him, but his eyes remained serious. "No shit," he murmured, his voice warm but guarded.

I fidgeted with my fingers, the weight of my emotions settling heavy. "I like you, Marshall. A lot," I admitted. "More than a friend. And I want to see where this goes, I really do." I paused, gathering my thoughts, searching for the right words. "But... I know I need to work on myself too. I need to be in a good place. I want to be all in with you—and for that, I need a little time to make sure I can be the person you deserve."

He listened quietly, his expression softening as he took in my words, a look of understanding in his eyes. His hand moved to cup my chin, tilting my face to meet his gaze. "I get it," he said, his voice rough with sincerity. "And yeah, I feel the same way. You're all I've been thinking about. And if you need time, you've got it. I'm here."

The relief that washed over me was overwhelming, and before I knew it, I was leaning in, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that was slow, unhurried but full of everything we'd both held back. His hands moved to my waist, guiding me closer until I was straddling him. His touch was steady, his hands warm as they slipped under my jacket, lifting it off my shoulders before he tossed it aside.

Without breaking the kiss, he shifted, gently laying me back on the bed. His gaze held mine, a silent question in his eyes, as if asking if this was okay. I gave a slight nod, feeling my heart race as he moved his hands to my waist, his fingers tracing along the lace of my bodysuit.

He took his time, his hands sliding down, finding the snaps at the bottom, and undoing them slowly, each click sending a spark through me. His fingers grazed over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, his touch feather-light, enough to make my breath hitch. The anticipation built as he paused, his eyes holding mine, his expression filled with a softness that felt almost reverent.

He kissed me slowly, his mouth moving from my lips to my jaw, then lower, grazing his lips over my collarbone and down to the curve of my shoulder. My skin prickled, every nerve heightened as his hands explored, gentle yet firm, tracing a path that left heat in its wake.

My hands slid under his shirt, finding the warmth of his skin, tracing over the hard lines of his back as I helped him lift it off. He tossed it aside, and for a moment, we paused, just looking at each other, as if trying to memorize every detail.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I shivered, my fingers threading through his hair as he continued his slow descent, kissing his way down to the hollow of my throat. His hands moved to my hips, guiding them closer as he settled between my legs, and I felt the hard press of him against me, sending a jolt of anticipation through my core.

He took his time, letting the anticipation build, his hands moving over me with a steady confidence, making me feel like I was the only thing that mattered. I could feel my pulse quicken, my breath coming faster as he worked his way back up, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that was as slow and deliberate as his touch.

When he finally entered me, it was slow, careful, every movement filled with an intensity that left me breathless. He paused, letting me adjust, his gaze never leaving mine, a silent conversation passing between us. There was no rush, only a deep, steady rhythm as we moved together, each thrust grounding us, pulling us deeper into each other.

Our breaths synced, our bodies finding a rhythm that felt effortless, like we were made for this, for each other. The tension built between us, every shift, every whispered breath drawing us closer to the edge. I felt myself unraveling, the pleasure building until it crashed over me, leaving me trembling, breathless beneath him.

He wasn't far behind, his grip tightening as he buried himself deep, his release following mine, grounding us both in the moment. He stayed close, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us lost in the quiet aftermath, the room filled only with the sound of our breathing, our shared heartbeat.

When he finally moved to my side, he pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me as he traced gentle circles on my back, neither of us wanting to let go. In the quiet, in the warmth of his embrace, I felt something settle, something solid, unspoken but understood.

As I lay there, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath my hand, I knew we'd crossed a line we could never go back from. And for the first time, that felt exactly right.