Chapter 19
Griselda
I was staring at my phone, trying to decide if I should call Marcus or not when it rang. His number showed up on the screen. I counted to ten so it didn’t seem like I was literally by my phone waiting for him to call.
This teenager-with-a-major-crush feeling wasn’t going away even now that I’d spent several days stuck by his side.
“Hello?” I whispered to avoid triggering Triscuit. I didn’t need him to be saying hello on repeat for the next fifteen minutes.
“Hey.”
Just that one word in Marcus’s low rumbly voice was enough to do funny things to my insides.
“I was just meal prepping for the next week,” he said, “and I’m making some extra for you.”
He was cooking? For me? Meal prepping. That was totally a gym-bro thing, wasn’t it?
I was too shocked to respond, so he continued. “I know it’s supposed to be all about the macros. But I don’t make my food super healthy and bland. I tried, but I can’t eat it. My version of meal prepping is palatable, I promise.”
I finally found my voice. “I’m sure it will be great. I haven’t had time to get groceries, so thank you.”
That was a lie. I had time. Like right now, I could be at the supermarket this very moment doing my weekly shopping, but I was so tired. I decided I’d rather vegetate on my couch instead. It wasn’t the time, it was the energy I was lacking. Especially after the last few days.
“Let me be completely honest with you. I was resigned to being happy with peanut butter and crackers again tonight. I’m not exactly a domestic diva.”
“I don’t expect you to be. You’re already a successful business owner and a talented witch. Any more perfect, and you’ll be too intimidating.”
“Flatterer!”
Triscuit flinging his set of colorful stackable plastic cups around his cage and cackling like a madman had me cringing. It was cute, though that was dependent on who you asked, but it did not make for a very romantic setting.
“Did you want to meet me up on the rooftop instead? It’s a beautiful evening and it gives me an excuse to use the umbrella heaters.”
“Okay. Be there in twenty? I’m going to try to whip up some dessert too.”
“Dessert?”
“Unless you want to be dessert.” His growled words had me squeezing my legs together.
“Why not both? I’ll see you in twenty.”
Twenty minutes. I was glad I’d already taken a shower after our failed search of the dusty basement. But I’d let my hair air dry and it was a bit of a mess. Clean, but messy. It was also red again because I’d let the magic slide.
I decided not to use too much magic in case I needed it to bolster the wards through another attack.
Gathering a few candles, I ran up to the roof to turn on the heaters and pick up any cups I might have left out there. Then, with the candles in place but unlit, and the heaters warming the place up, I ran back inside and made myself look presentable.
I kept the hair simple, a quick blow dry and sleeking down with a jasmine-scented oil. The only magic I used on my hair was to make it black again. I’d noticed his reaction to it that first day. He liked the red, but loved the black.
I used real makeup instead of magic, focusing on my brows and eyes. I was lucky that my skin had been behaving recently. I stuffed the blood-red lipstick and a compact into my purse for later and chose a nude balm for pre-food lips instead. I wanted a hint of siren without being overdone for an impromptu homemade rooftop dinner.
I took way too long to decide what to wear. It was well below freezing outside but I knew the two umbrella heaters were powerful and put out a surprising amount of heat. I didn’t want to be overdressed if he showed up in sweatpants. But I wanted to look good too.
Then I remembered his reaction when he stepped out onto the roof the other day and saw me in my satin nightie, the red one with a low-cut neckline and a hem that ended barely below my ass. A short dress then. That one was in the laundry, so I dug out a lacy crocheted one I’d made last year.
It technically covered all the essentials, but I’d only ever worn it at home because it was basically see-through. I put that on, and then threw the black robe over it. They were still considered my “house clothes,” so I wouldn’t be overdressed, but they were sexy as hell, especially if I wore a pair of heels with them.
That was one thing I’d promised myself years ago. I didn’t wear ratty clothes at home. I wore sexy clothes that made me feel good, or cute clothes that I loved. Why? Because why should I spend my free time looking, and therefore feeling, like crap?
I stepped out onto the patio with a pitcher of iced tea—I cheated, it was bottled—just in time to see Marcus lighting the candles I’d put out earlier. He looked good. Smelled good too. He’d showered, and the clean scent of the body wash mingled with his natural masculine one. He’d trimmed his facial hair…or was that facial fur?
He’d changed out of his sweatpants from before and now wore a pair of jeans that molded to his muscular legs. A simple black T-shirt finished the outfit. But it wasn’t one of those sloppy, oversized ones. This one was fitted and showcased every ripped muscle. The bumps formed by his nipple rings showed through the fabric.
Dinner was good. Lemon and artichoke chicken on brown rice. Not spectacular, and much healthier than when I cooked. But since Marcus had made it, it automatically got extra bonus points. Dessert was a berry cheesecake protein parfait.
“A protein parfait?” I should stop the dubious tone.
”There’s protein powder in the cream cheese mixture. And I used high-protein granola.”
“I had no idea that even existed. But I’m willing to give it a try.”
“I used real sugar. None of that fake stuff. Maybe it’s my enhanced sense of taste, but I can’t stand sugar substitutes.”
“Oh, it’s not just you,” I assured him.
The cheesecake parfait was surprisingly good. I couldn’t even tell it was high protein.
But as I ate, I realized that Marcus’s attention wasn’t on the dessert at all. It was on me. Over the course of dinner, I’d gotten hot—those umbrella heaters were no joke—and let the robe fall open. He was gawking at the dress underneath, which meant I’d made the right decision.
Putting my dessert down, I leaned back and stretched, putting my legs up across him to rest my feet on his lap. His eyes went to my shoes immediately.
“Fuck, Kitten. You wore those at the club.”
“I did.” Was it a bad idea in the snow? Totally. But I survived. He’d waxed poetic over them, but he’d also been drinking that night.
“Still fucking hot.” He brought one foot to his lips and kissed the exposed skin through the straps.
I pressed the other foot down on his erection, which was becoming more obvious. It couldn’t be comfortable in those jeans.
I wasn’t ready when he suddenly moved, shoving the low table and sliding down to kneel on the ground. He gripped my ankles and pulled so that I slid to the edge of the seat, then spread my legs wide, trapping me in a compromising position.
“Beautiful.”
From his angle, I would be exposed to him. My dress was super lacy, basically a bunch of holes except for over my breasts, and the only thing solid between us was the thin fabric of my underwear. He made quick work of that, bending to grip the flimsy garment between his teeth and yanking. There was a loud ripping sound and he tossed the scrap of satin to the side with his mouth.
Wow. Fuck. That was hot.
“Time for my dessert.”
With his hands still holding my ankles, he leaned in to kiss me, sending heat surging through my body. Our tongues dueled for dominance, even though I knew who’d win. I slipped my hand under his shirt, clawing at the firm muscles there. Lust and need descended on us so fervently I was dizzy with it all.
He trailed fiery kisses down my throat, then buried his face between my breasts, nudging the dress down so he could lick and kiss me thoroughly until my nipples beaded up, hard and sensitive. The bulge at the front of his pants brushed against my crotch, promising great things. I wiggled, trying my damnedest to rub myself against him, but he moved away.”
“Bring that back,” I demanded. “I need it.”
“Fuck,” he swore, looking pained. He released one leg and rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “I won’t leave you wanting. But we can’t fuck.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t replenish my stash of condoms, and we went through all of them last time.”
Oh, we had? No wonder.
He wasn’t a one-night stand anymore, so I said, “I’m on the pill. And I’ve been tested. So if you don’t have any other reason—”
He let out a growl, the sound raw. “You shouldn’t have told me that.”
“Why not?”
His eyes changed, and now he watched me like a predator who’d cornered his prey. “Because you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
My heart was pounding in my chest. “Walking is overrated,” I panted.
“Kitten,” he murmured. “I’ve been wanting this since the moment I saw you again.”
His jeans were down by his knees in an instant, and his cock sprang free. I reached for it, enjoying how hard it was in my hands. I saw now that without the glamor it was thicker and darker at the base. I pumped the majestic cock a few times before Marcus shifted back. His eyes were dark with intent when he bent his head, his heavy horns creating delicious friction against the inside of my legs.
I gripped his horns, pulling him closer and urging him to continue. His breath was so hot against my skin, and I bucked my hips in anticipation. I sighed when he finally covered me with his mouth.
His tongue found my clit after a thorough exploration and flicked it several times, drawing needy moans from me. His fingers dragged languidly up my legs, and his hands slid under my ass, gripping it firmly and tilting my hips for better access.
There was that thick tongue again. Spreading me open, preparing me for something even more generous. All I could do was hold on, my nails clawing at the base of his horns, something he clearly enjoyed from the sounds he made.
All it took was his thumb circling my clit firmly for me to fall apart.
I shattered, my muscles tightening and clenching around his tongue. When I cried out, I was glad that Marcus had just enough sense left to press his palm quickly over my mouth. We were on the roof, and this was downtown Darlington.
Then he was lining us up, the wicker chair putting me at the perfect height. He shifted his weight and pressed in. My eyes grew wide at how big he felt.
Oh god.
Remembering how loud I’d been at his place that night, I searched frantically for the robe so I could scream into it. I found it just in time. He rocked his hips, and every thick inch had me losing more of my mind. He was filling me completely and utterly, and all I could do was feel.