Chapter 23
Erica
Marco presses his lips against my hair in a silent goodbye as he leads me back to the cocktail table where my purse is, and goes to say goodbye to a few people at the party.
I can’t believe I just asked him to take me home with him, but I am completely lost in this moment.
That dance. His hands. His whispering plea that promised he wouldn’t push me, yet it was asking in its nature.
My eyes follow him around the room, excitement rippling through me, knowing what’s to come.
In his absence, I rummage through my purse for my phone. I scroll to find Sadie’s name and text her, my thumbs moving quickly across the phone’s keyboard.
Me: Hey, is there any way you can stay the night with Josie tonight?
I drum my fingers nervously against the white tablecloth as I wait for her response.
I know everything I’m implying in my text, and my nerves are in my throat thinking about what she will think.
But this is my life, and right now this feels right.
I can’t help what I feel for Marco. The feelings of disdain I had felt, or forced myself to feel, have morphed into something I’m no longer in control of. Something warm. Longing.
Three dots bounce on the screen.
Sadie: Of course, I can stay.
Me: Thank you. I owe you. Milk is in the freezer for you to thaw. Just run it under room temperature water and pop it in a bottle for her for the morning, along with her breakfast. Mashed strawberries and buttered toast are her favorites lately.
I realize this is the first time I’ve slept away from Josie since she’s been born. A part of me feels guilty for it, but I know she’s in good hands. I trust Sadie, and she has everything she needs to take care of her.
Sadie: I’ve got it covered! Don’t worry.
Me: Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.
Sadie: Erica…
I frown slightly at my name on the screen, knowing what she’s thinking.
Me: I’ll be fine. I promise.
Sadie: Okay. Have fun ;)
I let out a soft laugh and tuck my phone in my purse. I see Marco standing there looking at me with a curious smile. God, that smile. I’d undress for him right here if I could.
“You ready to go?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, my voice raspy as it struggles to get out, past all the feelings that are bubbling inside of me.
He offers me his arm and I take it, following him as he leads us through the party and to the town car that waits outside.
We ride in silence to his penthouse. I’m hyperaware of every brush of the leg or touch of the arm as the town car weaves through the evening traffic.
My body feels like it’s being pulled to him with every turn, yet he doesn’t touch me.
Doesn’t make a move. The anticipation is killing me.
I wonder if he’s doing this on purpose, and I loathe him for it because, if so, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
When we walk into his penthouse, it’s exactly as I remember it. The large, arched windows. The city view. The dim lighting that cascades over the shadows cast by the furniture in the center of the room. I feel like I’m having déjà vu.
I feel him come up from behind me as he wraps his arms around me.
I lean back into his chest and breathe him in, closing my eyes as his body envelops mine.
I realize now how badly I’ve wanted this, even though I’ve tried desperately to deny it by pushing him away.
But Marco is not who I thought he was. I realize that now.
I think I’ve realized it for a while, but it’s become clear recently.
Maybe it was seeing him with his mother, or him explaining what had happened the morning he had left me here in this very apartment.
Maybe it’s the way he hasn’t given up on me besides my iciness toward him and the way I’ve pushed back at everything he’s said or done.
He may be a shark in business, but he’s also kind.
It’s a juxtaposition I find fascinating.
He cares about people he’s close to in life.
A reckless part of me wants to be one of those people.
His hands remain wrapped around my midsection as we stand there in silence, our breath slowly syncing together as we look out at the glimmering city.
I feel his heart racing against my back, though.
I wonder if he’s scared for his hands to stray.
Scared to touch me, even though I’m here and willing.
Wanting. I don’t blame him after the way I reacted when he tried to kiss me.
I press my body firmly against him and tilt my head slightly, so my hair falls and reveals my bare neck to him.
His for the taking. He sucks in a shuddered breath before I feel his lips hover closely over my skin, his breath tickling an inner part of me.
I tilt my head even more, giving him better access.
He takes the bait and presses his lips in the sensitive space where my neck meets my collarbone.
I let out a sigh that feels like it’s been built up for weeks now as he moves his lips up toward my ear.
I melt into him as his teeth enclose around my ear lobe gently, giving it a tug before whispering.
“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this.”
I can barely process the words or the feeling they arouse between my legs before his hands are on my hips and he turns me quickly to face him.
I let out a little gasp as I come face to face with him.
His hands are at the back of my dress, and his fingers have grasped the zipper, pulling it down with a slow ease.
I feel his fingertips brush against my bare skin as they move lower and lower, past my lower back, past the lace of my underwear to where the zipper stops.
He looks at me with a lazy smile as his hands move up toward my shoulders and the straps of my dress.
He hooks his thumbs underneath each strap and slips them off my shoulders, watching as the dress falls off my body, revealing the lace lingerie I had worn in hopes this might happen.
His eyes graze over me, inch by inch, like he’s taking notes.
Part of me panics slightly at the thought he might notice physical differences since I gave birth, but it’s been so long and nothing is changing in his expression.
I let myself succumb to his desirous stare, and relish in the feeling of being wanted like this.
He takes a step forward and his hands find my bare skin, his fingers trailing lazily from the underside of my breasts that are cupped in my pale blush bra to the center of my abdomen.
They move further down, and it almost feels like he’s not even touching me at all, until his fingers slip between the lace and skin just underneath my navel.
I suck in a gasp as his fingers are more firm now, pressing against me just there.
I squirm as he runs his thumb over me in circular motions, slowly with pressure.
He’s watching my face carefully, enjoying every twitch of my body and every breath that hitches just behind my parted lips.
He slips a finger inside me with ease because my body wants him, has been wanting him since he picked me up in that goddamn suit.
He adjusts his arm so he can penetrate me deeper.
His face is closer to mine, and his breath is dancing against my open mouth that’s begging to taste him as he works his magic with his hand.
As if reading my mind, he comes in closer, his lips so close they almost brush together.
He runs his tongue across my lips at the same time he slips another finger inside me, curling them in a way that sends a sensation up my spine as I arch my back toward him.
His tongue is against mine now, massaging it in the same rhythm as his hand massages me.
I whimper slightly from the sheer pleasure I feel and the way he tastes.
His hand is moving faster now, and his mouth is trying to keep up.
Our kiss is becoming more frantic, and the disorientation I feel is making my knees buckle.
I throw my arms around his neck and push myself firmly against his hand, begging for more, and he gives it.
His thumb is moving faster now and his fingers are matching its rhythm, moving in and out of me.
I feel a wave run through my body, and then another, as I let out a breathless moan into his mouth.
He pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead against mine, his own breath frantic, as he slips his hand out from my underwear.
We stare at each other for a few moments, trying to catch our breath, but I’m nowhere near done.
I need so much more. I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him toward me, back to the couch that’s just a few feet away.
I have no patience to make the journey down his long hallway.
My fingers move quickly at the buttons of his shirt as he shrugs off his jacket.
He’s already working at the buckle of his pants, and I know he wants this as bad as I do in the way he’s looking at me.
In the speed he’s working to get the layers between us to disappear.
I undo the last button of his shirt and practically tear the thing off him.
My hands are at the waistband of his pants, loose now that they’re undone, and I pull them down, revealing the generous length of him.
My eyes fall to his erection, and the lust I felt before intensifies tenfold.
I push him onto the couch, and watch his eyes follow my every movement as I slip my lace underwear off.
I place my knee on one side of him, swinging the other over so I’m hovering above him.
His eyes are where we are about to meet.
I lift myself slightly so I can feel the tip of him against me.
I swirl my hips as I tease myself against him.
His eyes are still watching, blinking slowly as his hands run up my stomach and around to the clasp of my bra.
He unhooks it with ease, my breasts spilling before him.
He groans at the sight, and I feel him twitch against me as I rub myself against his hard cock.
He places his hands on my upper back, pulling me to him.
He takes my breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around my nipple.
I moan at the feeling of his warm mouth against me.
As his mouth moves to my other breast, his hands move to my hips, and I know what he wants.
I want it too. He pushes me down onto him, his length slowly filling me, easing me open.
He looks up at me, my breast falling from his mouth.
He stops breathing as I bear down on him, so he can’t go any further.
I place my hands on his bare chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath my fingers.
I begin moving against him, grinding my hips back and forth, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head as I find a slow rhythm.
I’m already needing more, so I begin moving faster.
His eyes snap open as he watches me ride him.
His fingers are digging into the fleshy parts of my hips now.
I move my hands to the back of the couch for a better grip. I ride him harder, faster.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
Just that word alone sends me over the edge.
I jerk forward at the orgasm running through me as he bucks under me, letting out a deep groan as he releases.
I collapse onto him, our naked bodies pressed together, him still inside me.
We sit like that, arms wrapped around each other for a while, his lips pressing slow kisses against my shoulder.
I smile as my chin rests on top of his head.
Somehow, it was even better than last time.