Chapter 60
Chapter sixty
I’m In Control Now, Baby
Sophia
“Why the hurry?” I giggle as Marco keeps my hand tightly in his and strides us both towards his office.
Even after all his threats to put me on my knees as “punishment” for my belligerence, I knew Marco needed a little push and a whole lot of encouragement.
Where the rest of our group has succeeded at letting their hair down and having fun tonight, he still seems preoccupied and on edge.
I knew a way to take the edge off, but first I had to push him far enough to want to fall off it.
Buoyed by the second Amaretto sour that followed the earlier drinks and the champagne at the exhibition, I’m feeling relaxed, and my inhibitions flew out the window hours ago.
Suddenly, the maraschino cherry in my drink looked far more tempting than just a pretty garnish.
It was the perfect hook to snag Marco’s attention and test his control.
And he took the bait. Hook, line, and sinker.
Without slowing his speed, he swings a smoldering gaze over his shoulder. He tracks my tongue as I run it over my lips, licking off the last of the sweetness left from my drink.
“Get them nice and wet for me sweetheart,” he says with a devilish smirk.
Is it wrong of me to keep pushing his buttons just to fray the reins of control he hangs onto so tightly?
Maybe. Will I keep doing it because seeing this man flip a switch from calm, cool, and collected to insatiable drives me wild?
To quote him, “abso-fucking-lutely.” When we reach his office, he tugs on my arm so my body is propelled in front of his, letting go of my hand, his body taking the weight of mine.
He presses himself against me and kisses my neck, as he keys the code in to open the door.
“Do you remember what happens to brats?” he asks before nipping on my ear.
I expose more of my neck to him, and he shocks me by sinking his teeth in and sucking.
I moan softly, not able to stop the sound from tumbling out.
It’s the most delicious type of sting, one that makes more than just my eyes water.
Fuck. My intention was to make him lose control, but I’m the one already in a puddle.
He walks us into the office, the evidence of his arousal hard up against the top of my ass thanks to my heels.
“You look sexy as sin in this dress, Kitten, but it needs to come off,” he says as he places the small bowl of cherries on the side table beside the plush, deep emerald two-seater couch along the back wall.
Standing in front of the sofa, he unzips me slowly with one hand, running the fingertips of the other along the same path with a featherlight touch that makes me shiver.
“What’s got you shivering, sweetheart?” he says as he pushes the dress off my shoulders and down my arms, causing the front to fall away from my body.
“You don’t feel very cold,” he murmurs low and sexy, his soft lips against my hot skin as he plants open-mouthed kisses from one shoulder over to the other.
He pulls me back into his front so he can support my body while he tugs my sleeves over my hands and pushes the fitted leather dress over my hips until it pools at my feet on the floor.
Then he turns me in a tight circle until I’m facing him and helps me step over the dress, leaving me in just a black lacy thong and my leopard-print heels.
“My brat doesn’t like bras,” he states as he looks his fill, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth before pulling me into his chest. “The shoes stay on,” he commands, his eyes glimmering with heat and emotion as he strokes along my cheekbone with the backs of his knuckles, trailing them down over my throat, pausing for a moment to add a little pressure as I swallow.
“I can’t wait to wrap my hand around this pretty throat when you’re full of me,” he coos.
I close my eyes, giving into the overwhelming need humming through me.
I’m so turned on at the thought of him wrapping his hands around my throat while he’s fucking it, my legs might give out.
I revel in the way it feels to be held by him.
Desired. Loved. A sentiment I’ve been afraid to admit too loudly in case it’s too good to be true and my whole world comes crashing down around me.
Again. Marco’s gravelly voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts.
“I went six years without seeing you every day and loved you from afar for even longer,” he says, walking us both back towards the couch, and pulling me down with him so I’m straddling his lap, one knee on either side of his legs. My heart feels like it might explode from his sweet confession.
“I owe you the truth. Arty’s face looks like that because he dared to go after what is mine.
Dared to come into this club and intimidate men I consider my brothers.
No one threatens my family and gets away with it.
” His words pierce my heart, and I whimper.
There’s more I want to ask. Like who did it and how, but my need to know details pales in comparison to my desire for him.
Taking his face in my hands, I look directly into his eyes, now the same deep shade of emerald as the couch.
I can’t fight my truth anymore. “You’re my entire heart, Marco.
I want you to trust me implicitly with the good and the bad.
I want us to be a team.” I kiss him slowly, letting my hands fall away from his face and roaming them over his firm chest and abs.
He flexes under my touch, and it spurs on my urgency to have him naked.
I pull at the hem of his shirt, and he lets me strip it from him.
I run my hands over his tattooed chest softly, pausing to trace the petals of the rose and the letters over his heart.
I lift my eyes to his, seeking confirmation of their meaning.
“So I could always keep a reminder of you close to my heart,” he rasps.
I crash my lips to his again and kiss him passionately, trying to translate everything I want to say, but can’t find the words to express.
My hips move of their own accord against the hard-as-steel bulge behind his zipper.
Wrapping my hair around his fist, he tugs, breaking our kiss.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” he rasps. “I’m in control tonight, remember. ”