Goose bumps erupt on my arms and legs. I unclench my fingers from the pillows and reach down to rake them through his messy hair. Curling into his blond strands, I guide him back, and he chuckles. The hum of his laughter against my clit nearly pushing me over the edge.
"Yesss, keep doing that." I tug on his hair.
"Who's in charge, huh?"
Does he really want to have this conversation now?
"We are." The two words leave me in a breathy moan.
"Mhmmm, I like the sound of that." I can hear his smile. "Tell me what you want."
Implicit trust puts us both in charge. "You. All of you. Now."
"You sure? I could—"
"If you don't fuck me right this second, we're done."
Marcus sits up, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and slants his head. "Is that so?" He's declaring a challenge.
"No, but I'd really like your dick inside mycunt." I flutter my eyes, and he shakes his head. I've never talked like this before. But with Marcus, everything is different.
"Jesus, woman." Instead of making me beg, which I expected, he mounts my body, holding himself on his elbows.
My knees fall to the sides, allowing him to align himself with my opening. The atmosphere in the room shifts, and the feverish desire morphs into a slow-moving stream of incinerating lava.
I cup his face, my thumbs stroking across his cheekbones.
Our mouths connect, and Marcus sweeps his tongue across my bottom lip. My arms intertwine behind his neck. I part my lips, and he enters me—tongue and cock. My hips roll as he fills me to the hilt, and a groan rumbles in his throat. He hooks one arm under my back while the other glides down my rib cage until he has a firm grip on my thigh. I'm hyperaware of the path where his calloused skin trails mine, the sensation burned into my flesh. This is nothing like the previous times. The laundry room was about dominance and numbing.The Clubto fulfill a desire we didn't allow ourselves to acknowledge. Tonight is about us. About passion and…feeling. Marcus has the ability to let me drown without the need for submerging. I begged him to make me forget, be the only one on my mind. He's done just that. As our bodies tangle together and he moves on top of me, all I can think about is that I'm falling. For him.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
MARCUS
For the secondtime in a little over a month, I wake up in a bed that's not mine—my room in the main house. Today, I don't care, though. My face is buried in one of the many pillows Denielle keeps in her bed. What is it with her and the excessive need to have more pillows than my boss has the same model rifles? My hand travels across the sheet to find the other side cold.
Where the hell is this woman now?
I lift my head. She's nowhere in sight. Peering toward the room I will forever dread after yesterday, the door is wide open and empty as well. I push myself up and groan. Fuck, I'm tired. I consider myself in good shape, but after last night, I need a break. I'm emotionally and physically drained.
I left my shirt and jeans balled up in the closet, so I don't even bother checking if they're dry. Slipping out of bed and peering around, I spot my borrowed sweats.
I make my way downstairs. I hear everyone talking over each other before my feet hit the foyer.
Jenn is the loudest of all. "You called me to keep her safe, so let me do my fucking job, Ethan!"
"I calledyou. You're not bringing Paycen into this." I round the corner just as Ethan points a finger at Jenn's face.
I wouldn't be surprised if she snaps his digit off. Jenn has a temper of her own. Ethan's scowl complements the grim line of his mouth. He only ever lets his carefully controlled mask slip if he's about to blow.
"T and Cor are on a job. He is close and—" Jenn starts again, her fists propped on her hips.
"Unstable," Ethan barks. "Our little brother is as trustworthy as Dahmer, Shipman, and Bundy combined. If you call Paycen, you're out. P is a ticking time bomb. He's not setting foot on this property."
Jenn folds her arms. If I hadn't already been in the room, I wouldn't have heard her reply. "You know it's not his fault."
Ethan bridges the gap and hugs her to him. "I know, J." He props his head on hers and meets my eyes. "But he cannot be here."
"Okay," she concedes.