“This is the ladies room,” I point out breathlessly, still trying to recover my equilibrium.
“Not right now it fuckin’ isn’t.”
That’s all he says before his lips are on mine, his hands moving roughly over every part of me they can reach. My body bucks against the restraint of his hold, undulating against his as fire licks through my veins.
I don’t know what the hell has gotten into him. By some unspoken agreement, the men usually don’t interfere in my work or other important activities, as if my reward for letting them this deep into my life is that they won’t disrupt it too badly. Usually he just sits at the bar, watching me as if he wants to devour me.
Now? It’s like he’s trying to do just that.
There’s a violent desperation in his touch that reminds me of the first time we ever fucked, and it scares me even as it draws out an answering response from my own body. I hook my leg around his lean waist, grinding against his cock. It’s already thick and hard, straining toward me as he thrusts his hips into mine—as if we could fuck through our clothes if we just try hard enough.
My clit throbs, already aching hotly from the friction and the feel of his mouth pillaging mine. I reach for the button of his jeans, reason abandoning me like it always does with this man, but he grabs my wrist roughly and pins it to the door beside my head.
Then he draws back, breathing hard and deep as he reaches for my zipper and tugs it down. He doesn’t even pull my pants down, just opens my fly enough to allow him room to squeeze his hand inside. Then he shoves two fingers into my pussy, biting his lip as he watches my response.
Keeping his gaze glued on my face, he works his thick fingers deeper inside me, and I swear I can feel his whole body shudder, all the way down to the tips of his fingers. He pumps them inside me a few times, fucking me roughly with them until I’m gasping for breath, and then he drags them out, smearing my wet arousal over my skin as the pads of his fingers find my clit.
Sensation explodes inside me, building higher and higher with each circle of his fingertips. He leans closer, caging me entirely with his body, his cheek pressed to mine as his harsh breaths stir my hair.
The hand stuffed down my pants works faster, and his grip on my wrist tightens almost painfully as his taut, rigid body presses against mine.
“Sometimes I want to break you, angel,” he murmurs into my ear, his voice a rough burn. “Sometimes I want to break you apart just to see what’s inside.”
My breath hitches in my throat, my hips bucking off the door to get closer to his touch as electric pleasure spikes in my veins.
I hate that I know what he means, but I do. Sometimes I want to break him too. As if the part of him I’m desperate to reach, desperate to have, is hidden deep inside him, and the only way to claim it is to smash him to pieces.
As if I don’t just want his body.
I want his whole fucking soul.
A ragged noise tears from my throat, and he groans into my ear, pinching my clit between his fingers. My stomach tightens as pleasure and pain blast through me, and Marcus rears back, releasing my wrist and clamping his hand over my mouth as I scream out my release.
My eyes are wide, my nostrils flaring and my chest heaving as I try to suck in enough oxygen through my nose to survive.
But his fingers don’t stop moving. The rough pads of his fingertips keep circling my clit, slowing only slightly. Earth and air stare back at me, a
deep, consuming, devastating hunger lurking in the depths of his eyes.
“Break for me, angel. Let go.”
I just did. Didn’t he see it? Didn’t he feel it?
But it wasn’t enough. He wants more. Always more.
He’s relentless, pushing my body higher and higher. He makes me come again, and when he wrings a third orgasm from my exhausted body, making my clit ache from too much stimulation, I bite down hard on his hand.
He grunts, his whole weight falling against me as his punishing fingers finally slow. I can feel his cock pressing into me, hot and hard, but he makes no move to fuck me. Instead, he just… holds me.
His hand is still down my pants, cupping my pussy. His temple rests against mine, and his other hand cradles the back of my neck.
I don’t know how long we’ve been in the bathroom. Much longer than the five minutes I told Duke I was going to take, I’m sure of that. But I don’t move. I don’t try to push Marcus away. I just breathe against him, letting our heartbeats sync into a single rhythm.
Finally, he stirs, dragging his body away from mine. He zips my pants back up and secures the button, staring at me with an enigmatic gaze.
“I have to go away this weekend,” he murmurs.
“Oh.” I blink. “So will Ryland and Theo stay—”