9. Renee
Before I have time to process anything that’s happened, Marcus’s hands are on my hips and lifting me with ease. He sets me on the edge of the island before placing his palms on either side of my hips, caging me in.
My heart is racing, adrenaline soaring through my veins so quickly, I’m jittery. But somehow, the beat still increases when he runs a hand through his hair and leans forward, skimming his nose along the shell of my ear. “Do you know how incredible that mouth of yours felt?”
A shiver skitters through me, leaving a gaggle of goosebumps down my arm. I’ve learned that hearing Marcus shower me with praises makes the best parts of me tingle. “No. But you can tell me.”
He huffs, the warmth of his breath coasting along the column of my neck. “It makes me want to keep you.”
I freeze. “Keep me?”
He nods into the curve of my neck, trailing a whisper of kisses down my throat. “Yes.”
“Because my mouth felt good.”
His teeth graze along my collar bone. “Amongst other things.”
Butterflies break free in my stomach, and a tingle descends my spine, making me fidget. “What other things?”
Marcus pauses, lifting his head enough to where I can see the deep brown of his dark irises. “Perhaps I can tell you after I taste you.”
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. The visual of Marcus Debois between my thighs has, up until this moment, only been a fantasy. A wish on a shooting star. The rub of a genie”s lamp. To hear him say it now and feel his soft lips peppering kissing to the center of my chest has me vibrating with need.
Arching my back as he reaches the top of my cami, I push out a soft breath. “Who knew you’d be such a tease?”
He huffs, his hands moving from the island to slowly slide under my skirt. “You have no idea, Miss Porter.”
I stick out a playful tongue. “I was just ‘baby girl’ a minute ago. Now I’m Miss Porter? I don’t think that’s a step in the right direction.”
He shakes his head, before gliding one of his hands from my skirt toward my breast. He traces the neckline with featherlight pressure, smirking when my skin pebbles. “Are you this responsive everywhere?”
“Guess you’ll have to find out.”
Marcus scoffs, hooking a finger under the strap of my cami and slowly drawing it off my shoulder. “That mouth of yours.”
“Oh, but a moment ago you were just saying how much you enjoyed it.” I apply the best smuggest smile possible.
“I do.” He returns his hand to my thighs, lifting my skirt up to expose my lace underwear. “And I can’t wait to hear the sounds it makes when my tongue is on your cunt.”
My jaw slackens, a fresh dose of arousal whisking through my core.
As long as I’ve worked with Marcus, he’s been a reserved man, only speaking when he needed to or was asked a direct question. So each time he slips out a dirty phrase, it ignites my libido like the first touch of a fully charged vibrator.
“Hate to tell you this,” I say, my voice growing quieter as I watch him slip his fingers under the straps of my lace. “But I’m not much of a talker in bed.”
“Is that so?” He taps my hips and juts his chin. “Lift.”
Bracing my hands on the counter, I hoist myself up the inch needed so he can slip the fabric down my legs. The cool air immediately chills my flesh and I shiver. “Yes, that’s so.”
His lips form a hard line as he pockets my underwear before straightening to his full height. “I don’t anticipate you’ll be able to say much.”
“Cocky.” My brows furrow. “So was your son, but he never even got me off.”
I regret the words as soon as I say them, but it’s too late to suck them back in. Marcus’s face smooths, his expression unreadable. The only indicator that he even heard me is the tick in his jaw and the tight fists that form on my thighs.
Why the fuck would I bring Harrison up when his dad is two seconds away from eating me out?
“Sor—”
Before I can finish my sentence, Marcus’s strong hand is pressed to the base of my throat, pushing me back enough that I have to prop myself on my elbows. I suck in a breath as he towers over me, his other hand skirting up my thigh.
“I,” he starts, running the tip of his nose up my jaw “am not my son.”
He stops at the shell of my ear and then nips at the flesh. I jerk against him, a small whimper slipping free. I should tell him how very different he is from his son, or maybe apologize for the earlier comment, but I don’t. Why? Well, because for some reason, having experienced this whole other side of Marcus, has me incredibly curious about the rest. I want to know if there’s any merit behind that devious smirk he has. The one where his dimple is deep and his eyes grow dark.
I want to know if there’s a darker side of him. A rougher side.
Blame it on that stalker romance with the fish pole.
“I mean, you talk a big game like him. Who’s to say you won’t fuck like him?”
A nerve in Marcus’s neck pulses, but impressively, his face remains impassive. After another beat of silence, though, he gives me that smirk I love so much and straightens, shifting in between my legs.
He places his hands on each of my knees and pushes them apart. I don’t even get time to process that I’m on top of this man’s kitchen island, fully exposed and at his mercy before he drops down.
His breath is hot against my entrance. “Your safe word is Red, baby girl. Don’t fucking forget it.”
My mouth pops open, a response at the ready, but then the flat of his tongue glides up my pussy, effectively shutting me up.
The muscles in my thighs immediately try to clench together against the overwhelming sensations, but he tightens his grip on my knees and repeats the act, this time with more force.
“Shit.” My head falls back, the word a muffled moan.
He bites on the inside of my thigh and I yelp, my head snapping back up so I can scowl at him. “Nu, uh. Eyes on me so you don’t forget who’s in between your legs. Which Debois will be tasting your cum.”
His words do something delicious to my throbbing center. “Don’t think that will be a problem.”
The smile in his eyes is clear as he licks up my entrance a third time, circling around my clit once. One, two, three, more times, he does it, taking his time as he curves and dips in his leisure exploration. Meanwhile I have to clench my teeth together to keep the needy whimpers trapped inside.
I’ve never had a man take his time with me. It was always a quick little one-two, or enough to get me ready for sex. But of course, Marcus Debois is not any man I’ve ever been with—son included.
He is in a category all of his own.
One that is very fucking good at—”Fuck.”
I jerk upright, the intense sensation that just spread out from my core, catching me off guard. “Did you just?—”
He nods, removing one hand from my knee to rub small circles over my sensitive clit he nipped. “What is it you call me when you’re speaking with Mr. Banks?”
The all too foreign heat of embarrassment warms my checks. “You’ve heard that?”
He uhhuhs before giving my cunt another languid lick. “I have.”
“Oh God.” The words come out in response to both his finger dipping inside my entrance with a wicked curl and the fact he knows the nickname I have for him.
Marcus grunts between my thighs. “No, that doesn’t sound quite right.”
He straightens, adding another finger inside of me. His fingers are long, and fucking talented, curling in a way that makes white spots appear in the corner of my vision. He drives them in and out at a gentle and steady pace.
“It had more of a ring to it.” He twists his fingers, sending a spark of pleasure to ripple up my center. “What was it?”
“I—uh.” I swear I try to talk, but the words aren’t coming to me. The only thing I can do is focus on the overwhelming pressure forming low in my core. An orgasm so deep, my entire body is concentrated on a singular spot.
“Come on, babygirl. Focus for me. What was it?”
He slows his pace, ebbing the climb.
“Marcus.” My voice is high, almost unrecognizable, bordering on a plea. “Please.”
He releases a dark chuckle, but this time, he slides his fingers out of me completely and I think I’m going to pass out. Or rage. One of the two.
“I don’t think that was it either.” He brings those same two fingers up and slides them into my mouth. I open wide without a second thought, the taste of my own arousal on my tongue turning me on even more. “Hmmm. Something with my name.”
I jerk my hips up as he slips his hand from my mouth. “D-Daddy Debois.” I swallow. “It’s Daddy Debois.”
Marcus nods, taking his place back between my thighs. When he returns his mouth to my cunt, he focuses only on my clit, while his fingers slide back inside. “That’s it. That’s the one. But lose the Debois.”
I stifle a whimper at having him back where I need him most. “You want me to call you Daddy?”
He simply looks up at me, flicking his tongue over my clit and winking.
“I mean, you’re more a Zaddy but—”The playful sentence morphs into a moan when he begins pumping his fingers inside of me again, much harder and faster than before. He curls and twists, and sucks and licks my clit until I’m shaking.
He feels so damn good. So good, I would call him my savior so long as he doesn’t stop.
I reach a hand out, threading my fingers through his dark hair. I grip the strands tight when he hits a spot that makes my eyes roll back. “Please, please, don’t stop.”
His eyes flash but I don’t have time to register the underlying expression before the pressure builds all over again, but now it’s way more intense.
My heart races in my chest, pounding so hard it’s all I can hear besides my panting breaths. My core coils tight, sparks of lightning sizzling so low it’s almost painful. A sweet pain that has teetering on the edge of wanting it to stop and continue until I die.
“Look at me, babygirl. I want to see what that pretty face looks like when you come for me.”
I hadn’t realized my eyes had drifted closed, or how heavy they’d be to open. But I do as I’m told, peeling them open to the sight of Marcus’s dark gaze locked on me as curls his tongue around my clit again.
And it’s all I need.
My orgasm erupts, blazing through me with an intensity I’ve never felt, burning through my veins so rapidly I scream out. My vision is peppered with white as I fall back into the counter, my entire core contracting as he continues to finger fuck me through it.
I blindly reach back, grabbing for anything I can hold on to. My fingers latch onto one of the island chairs and I yank it closer to the counter. Something hard thuds against the ground, followed by a mess of other things, but I don’t care. I can’t.
All I can focus on is the pressure and how it doesn’t stop. Doesn’t end. The pleasure is continuous and feels as if it’s somehow building all over again. Like if he doesn’t stop…
But then, just as it starts to ascend, it vanishes, like being plucked from the heat and dropped in an ice bath.
“Wait!”
It’s all I can manage before Marcus is back on his feet and towering over me. “Who knew you’d be so greedy, baby girl. Are you always like this or only for me?”
Chest still heaving, heart on the verge of an arithmetic episode, I gape at him, confused at what the hell just happened. “I don’t under—what?”
Marcus grants me one of those damn smirks that makes my knees weak as he rubs this thumb under his bottom lip. “Have you never come back to back, Renee?”
My eyebrows furrow, but when I start to speak, start to tell him how I’ve only ever heard of that because of books, his gaze falls to the floor beside me.
Barely having an ounce of energy, only my eyes follow him as he kneels and picks something up off the floor. When he stands upright again, I catch sight of the box. The small white box with the purple rose.
Shit.
Embarrassment creeps up my neck, but Marcus simply rips off the protective plastic around it, and unboxes it. “Time for that fishing lesson.”