My nails dig into my naked thighs. My dress has ridden up, and Marcus has a straight line of sight to my black see-through thong. I lose the battle of holding his gaze, my eyes falling to where he strokes himself.
My core aches, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
"If you want more, do what you're told, Denielle." There is no disdain in the way he says my full name. Not like it used to be. He tugs on my curls, and my eyes fly back to his. "Do you want more?" Genuine curiosity is etched across his forehead, and I find myself nodding against his hold.
Retreating a few steps, my heart skips a beat. What is he doing? Did he want me to admit that I want him, just for him to— Before the doubt can fully manifest in my head, he bends at the waist, never letting go of my hair, and crashes his mouth to mine. I'm so shocked my body freezes. Oh my Go—
My heart trembles. His lips begin to move, possessive yet gentle. His tongue grazes the seam of my mouth, and Ifallthe rest of the way. I open up for him, and his soft tongue tangles with mine as I taste the cinnamon of his gum. My fingers curl into his shirt, trying to pull him closer.
Marcus chuckles, not breaking the kiss. "Are you ready to follow my orders now?" There is no condescension in his question.
I fist the cotton, taking charge of the kiss while one hand snakes behind his neck. I keep him in place as I explore his tongue with mine. He groans, and I have what I want. We're equals, neither of us in charge of the other. We give and take what we want. I nip at the corner of his mouth. "Give me your worst,Bax."
I release him, and he straightens. His eyes drop to my exposed, barely existent underwear, soaked through with need. I can no longer chalk it up to the champagne. I lean back into the couch, widening my thighs as far as possible, baring myself to him. Something snaps, a surge of endorphins rushes my body, and I can't suppress the shudder. I've never wanted anyone like I want Marcus Baxter at this moment. His breathing is labored, his nostrils flaring with each inhale. The fingers of my right hand glide over the feverish skin on my legs, from the outside, along the front of my thigh, until I reach the inside and feel the seam of my thong. I arch my back, cupping my breast with the left. I moan, watching him follow my every move. His own hand pumps his cock while the other hangs loosely at his side, his fingers flexing and unflexing. His glistening head invites me to lick it off. I pull the last bit of barrier aside and expose my needy pussy to him. His eyes roll back, and his fist tightens around his length.
I'm hyperaware of both of our bodies in the room, the strobe lights reflecting off the shiny surfaces in the lounge. As soon as his gaze finds me again, his features harden. "Now, Denielle." He's not angry but on the brink of losing it.
Not hesitating another second, I dip two fingers into my heat, pinching my nipple with the other through the dress. My whimper mingles with the bass shaking the club.
I withdraw from my folds, feeling my wetness coating my fingers. Pushing right back in, I circle my thumb over my clit. Nerve endings in my body fire, and while pleasuring myself, I sit up on the couch. Releasing my breath, I beckon Marcus to step closer. A grin stretches across his face. He advances but remains out of reach.
"You didn't say please,Keller." The usual sneer when he uses my last name is missing. His ability to tell me how he feels (about me) with the same word is not lost on me.
I pump in and out of my pussy. "Oh, god," my whimper turns to a moan as I apply more pressure to my sensitive spot. I shudder, not wanting to dip over the edge just yet. Not alone. I can barely focus on the man in front of me—him watching, stroking himself while I pleasure myself. I inhale slowly, forcing my body's urge to explode down. Nibbling on my lower lip, I flutter my lashes at him. "Please, Marcus. Let me taste you." I exaggerate my tone, and he barks out a genuine laugh. How we went from hating each other's existence to me begging to suck him off is not making any logical sense. But we're here, and my mind is fixated on one goal.
He takes pity, bridging the gap, and I reach greedily for him. Not withdrawing from my pussy, I wrap my free hand around his shaft and take him in my mouth in the same move.
"Jesus," he hisses as I bob my head back and forth. I swirl my tongue around his tip whenever I reach the top. Marcus's hands are back in my hair, and he guides me as he fucks my mouth.
"Fuck, D." His low groan sends a new tingling sensation to my core. "Yesss, keep going—just like this. Ah, fuck…"
His incoherent muttering is enough for me to pick up my own pace. I moan around the fullness of my mouth, pinching my clit between my thumb and forefinger as I feel him hardening against my tongue. I'm buzzing with the urge to let go. With every stroke of my tongue and swirling around his tip, he tightens his hold on my locks, guiding me how he wants it. He sets the speed, and I chase after him with my touches. I'm on the brink of diving over the edge, my clit so sensitive that there is no way of turning back, when warmth fills my mouth, and I taste his salty cum. He continues to pump inside me once, twice more before he halts. I'm on sensory overload. My own orgasm racks through my body, unable to follow its wanting to succumb to the tremor because Marcus is holding me in place as he empties inside of me. I let his release glide over my tongue, swallowing every drop while the flutter in my core signals my subsiding orgasm. He slowly withdraws from my lips, and I lick his cock until it is completely gone.
I remove my fingers from my dripping heat, tugging my thong back in place. My eyes sting, and I can't look at him. My post-orgasm flushed cheeks burn from a new sensation. A knot forms in my stomach, and I blink.
I sit on the couch, the leather sticky with my cum, preparing myself for some type of verbal stab. He can't leave me here. He needs to take me back to the mansion. But that doesn't mean he has to be kind all of a sudden. The pit expands, and I clench my teeth. Doing the walk of shame was not part of tonight's plans.
Two fingers guide my face until I have no choice but to look at the man in front of me. I let lust overtake my rational thinking. He's going to use this as a new way to—
"Stop." He squats in front of the couch, his elbows propped on his thighs. His jeans are back on, but the belt is still unfastened.
"Let's have it." I sigh, meeting his sudden scowl. Let's get this over with so we can both move on.
His lips press into a thin line. Is he really pissed at me for being realistic?
"Nothing has changed." His cold tone is like a stab right in the heart, worse than any insult he could've thrown at me.
My spent body tenses with its last bit of strength. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. Pushing with the heels of my hands against the cushion, I stand, letting my dress fall back into place.
Marcus lands on his ass, not able to right himself fast enough. I want to laugh, but instead, I sidestep him, flip the lock, and walk out of the VIP suite and straight into the bathroom across the hall. I don't need to pee, andfreshening upwon't cut it. I brace my hands against the vanity, scanning my face in the mirror. My hair is a mess, my lipstick nonexistent, and my once smoky eyes have transformed into raccoon eyes after a night of clubbing.
Fuck.
All I have to do is make it home, then I can avoid him for the foreseeable future. Oli will be here tomorrow, and—
The door behind me swings inward and reveals Lilly's six-foot-fourShadow. "What's your problem?" His tone is hard, and for that alone, I want to knee him in the junk.
The junk you just happily fondled and had in your mouth.