He grinds up against me and I laugh as his eyes sparkle. “Would you have preferred that I came to you?”
I let out a groan. He knows damn well that I would have bitched his ass out if he’d risked getting out of bed to come and fool around in my room. Though I’m sure he would have found a way to earn my forgiveness. Unlike his dickhead brothers. “Alright, fine,” I mutter, my hands dropping to the tight muscle of his abdomen. “You win, but did you really have to send the wolf? He looks at me like a chew toy.”
Marcus raises a brow, curiosity deep in his eyes. “Would you have preferred that I sent one of my brothers to go and get you?” he questions. “The wolves will warm up to you in time. They’re not the nicest motherfuckers to get along with.”
I roll my eyes. “You know damn well that I wouldn’t have preferred your brothers. What I would have preferred was letting me spend the night in bed, not having to worry about anything sneaking into my room.”
Marcus scoffs and grinds his thick cock against my pussy again. “And miss out on all of this?” he teases, reaching up and gently pulling the silk tie at my waist until it falls free. His fingers slip inside my gown, traveling up over my shoulder and pushing the material aside, letting the gown fall to my waist, exposing my naked body below.
My skin instantly reacts. My nipples pebble as a shiver travels down my spine, my body longing for his touch. “You’re fucked in the head if you think I’m about to fuck you,” I tell him, doing my best to focus on anything but his calloused fingers trailing over my skin. “You have a bullet hole in your chest. Not to mention, a bullet hole that should be bandaged right now. If you laid still enough, I bet I could see right through it. The last thing you need is me bouncing around on top of you.”
“On the contrary,” he says, his eyes darkening with the most wicked type of hunger. “That’s exactly what I need.”
Heat floods me as I watch the way his devilish gaze travels over my body. His fingers roam over the curve of my breast and drop down past my waist, his soft touch skimming over my skin and tickling me in all the right places. Then with a sharp jolt, he pulls me forward and I catch myself against his chest, being careful not to press down over his bullet wound as the position has my clit rubbing up against his veiny cock, teasing and enticing me just like he intended.
“You’ve got me right where you want me,” Marcus whispers, his lips gently grazing over the sensitive skin of my neck, making me tilt to the side, desperately needing more. “When else will you ever get complete control like this? I’m flat on my back with nowhere to go. I’m at your mercy, Shayne. Take what I know you need from me. Take control, baby, just like I know you want to.”
Well fuck.
Marcus moves his hips beneath me and while I know deep down that I should be pulling away, that I should be distancing myself from him, there’s no way in hell that I have that kind of self-control. He may think he’s at my mercy, but he’s never been so wrong. Marcus DeAngelis is a fucking weapon, and any woman would be afraid of the things a man like this could do.
Marcus reaches up, his thick fingers curling around my jaw, and brings my face to meet his. Before I can even let out a needy sigh, he’s pulling me in, pressing his warm lips against mine and dominating me despite his declaration of handing over control.
He kisses me deeply and I return it twofold, letting him know just how down I really am. His hand drops from my jaw, traveling down to the base of my throat, and as he gives a gentle squeeze, I rock my hips back and forth, letting him feel just how wet I am for him.
Marcus groans and the sound is like a shot of adrenaline rushing through my veins, completely taking control and making me feel alive for the first time in days, but it’s got nothing on the way my clit feels grinding against his velvety cock.
Fuck my wounds. Fuck his bullet hole. There’s no better healing than this.
Raising my hips just slightly, I reach down between us and curl my fingers around his cock, giving it a firm squeeze before pumping my fist up and down, letting my thumb curve over his tip to feel that small bead of moisture.
“Fuck, Shayne,” he mutters, his tone deep and filled with desperation. “Take me. All of me.”