Chapter 13 Marco
Marco
Her mouth is on mine and every rule shatters.
I kiss her back hard. Hungry. My hands are in her hair, fisting those waves I’ve been thinking about for two goddamn weeks. She tastes like the coffee she had after dinner. Sweet and bitter and addictive as hell.
“Marco.” My name comes out breathless against my lips, spoken from that oh so sweet mouth of hers.
“Shh.” I walk her backward until her spine hits the butcher block. The impact makes her gasp and I swallow the sound. “You came back.”
“You told me to.”
“I know what I told you.” My hands slide down her sides, grip her hips. “But you could’ve said no.”
She responds breathlessly. “You could’ve, too.”
Fair point.
I pull back just enough to look at her. Those warm brown eyes are already dilated. Her lips are swollen from my mouth. That blush I love is climbing her neck and I want to taste every inch of it.
This is insane. Ben is asleep in the house. Niamh is on premises. Ethan’s warning is still ringing in my skull. The contract we signed explicitly forbids this.
And yet...
I don’t give a fuck.
I kiss her again, harder this time, but then something occurs to me.
“Wait.” I step away. Force myself to think for three seconds.
Jess watches me, breathing hard. “Changing your mind?”
I cross to the wall panel. Power down the swing-arm camera rigs one by one. They’re for content shoots, recipe tests, internal training clips. Tonight they stay dark.
Then I flip the privacy bolt on the studio door. The sound echoes in the quiet space.
When I turn back, she’s watching me with this expression that’s half challenge, half surrender.
“Now we’re ready,” I tell her.
Her smile is pure trouble. “Are we?”
I close the distance between us. “Oh yes.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she goads.
“I’m sure of you.” My hand cups her face. My thumb traces her jaw. “The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. The way you lean in when we’re going over notes. You want me, Jess. Have since that first day. And since Vegas.”
She doesn’t deny it. Just lifts her chin. Defiant even while giving in. “So what are you going to do about it?”
I kiss her again and this time there’s no hesitation. No pretending this is a mistake. My tongue slides against hers and she makes this sound low in her throat that goes straight to my cock.
Fuck she makes me hard.
She reaches for her wrist. I watch as she unclasps the fucking bracelet, that thin silver band she always wears. She sets it carefully on the counter beside us.
Deliberate. Intentional. Just like that first night.
My hands find the hem of her fucking shirt. Pull it the fuck over her head. She’s wearing the black lace bra I glimpsed earlier and Christ she’s so fucking perfect. All curves and soft skin and I want to put my fucking mouth everywhere.
“You’ve been thinking about this,” she accuses. Her fingers are already working my belt.
“Every goddamn day.” I unhook her bra. Let it fall. Cup her fucking breasts and feel her nipples peak against my palms. “Every time you walk into my kitchen. Every time you laugh with Ben. Every time you breathe.”
“That’s a lot of thinking.” When all I want is fucking.
“You have no idea.”
I lower my head and take her nipple into my mouth. She arches into me with a gasp that makes my fucking cock throb. I suck and bite gently while my hand works the other gorgeous breast. She tastes like salt and lavender and I’m already fucking addicted.
Her hands are in my hair now. Holding me to her. “Marco. Please.”
“Please what?” I switch to the other breast. Give it the same attention. “Use your words.”
“Touch me. I need you to touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
“You know what I mean.”
I do. But I want to hear her say it.
I straighten. Look down at her. She’s flushed and breathing hard and so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.
“Say it properly,” I tell her. “And I’ll give you exactly what you need.”
Her eyes flash. “I want your hands on my pussy. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my own name. Fuck me. Please.”
Perfect.
I unbutton her jeans. Slide them down her hips along with those black lace panties. She kicks them aside and now she’s completely naked in my studio while I’m still fully dressed.
The power dynamic shouldn’t work for me the way it does. But watching her exposed and wanting while I’m still buttoned up does something to my brain chemistry. If I’m not careful I’ll fucking cum right here in my pants.
“On the counter,” I grunt, and lift her easily. Set her exactly where I want her.
She goes without protest. Lets herself be positioned. Legs spread. Pussy already glistening.
I step between her thighs and just look. “Fuck, so wet for me.”
“You’re staring,” she says.
“Appreciating.” My fingers trail up her inner thigh. So close to where she needs me but not quite there. Pre-cum smears my fucking underwear. “You’re going to sit here and take what I give you. And you’re not going to cum until I say.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair, sweetheart.” I slide one finger through her wet heat. She’s so fucking soaked. “But I’ll make it worth the wait.”
I work her slowly. One finger, then two. Curling to hit that spot that makes her hips buck. My thumb finds her clit and she makes a sound that’s almost a whimper.
“Please. Marco. Please.”
“Not yet.” I keep the rhythm steady. Deep thrusts with my fingers, slow circles on her clit with my thumb. Edging her toward release but not letting her tip over. My underwear gets wetter. Careful. “You can take more.”
I can feel her tightening around my fingers. See the flush spreading down her chest. Her breathing is ragged and I know she’s close.
I stop. On the verge of cumming myself.
I pull my hand away completely.
“No. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
If only she knew the effect she had on me.
Fuck.
Instead I grin. “Ask me properly.”
She blinks at me. Pupils blown wide. “What?”
“You know what I want to hear.”
Understanding dawns. Her cheeks go even redder but she doesn’t look away. “Please let me cum. I need it. I need you.”
“Good girl.” I unzip my jeans. Free my cock.
Jesus.
It’s hard enough to hurt. Pre-cum beads at the tip. When I squeeze my prostrate, a veritable stream of the stuff squirts from the tip. “But you’re still not cuming yet.”
Her gaze drops to my cock, swollen and slick with anticipation, and a wicked smile curves her lips. “No?”
She doesn’t move from the counter, just shifts her thighs wider. An invitation, a demand.
I tremble with restraint. I want to fuck the shit out of her right now. Fast and hard and unrelenting. But safe sex comes first.
Damn condoms, always interrupting the flow.
With shaking hands, I reach into the pocket of my jeans, find a condom packet. I toss it onto her bare stomach, right above where her pussy glistens between us.
The foil glints in the studio’s low light. For a heartbeat, she doesn’t touch it. Just lets it rest there, her skin flushed from my fingers, her breath hitching as she watches me.
The air thickens, charged with the scent of her arousal and my own damn desperation. Fuck, why can’t I stop trembling?
I should just put it on myself and fuck the shit out of her.
But then it will be over far, far too soon.
I want this moment to last.
“Put it on me,” I tell her, voice rough as gravel. “Make it sexy.”
Eyes lidded, Jess plucks the packet slowly, deliberately.
She leans forward, and her fingers brush the damp trail on my shaft as she does.
I suck in a sharp breath. Pre-cum wells anew, pearling at the tip.
She tears the foil with her teeth, never breaking eye contact, and the sound is obscenely loud in the silence.
She eases the condom out, that thin latex unfurling between her fingers, and my pulse hammers in my throat.
Her other hand wraps around my base, firm and possessive, and I twitch, nearly fucking lose it.
Christ, her touch brands me.
“You’re dripping,” she murmurs, her thumb sweeping over the head, smearing my wetness. The contact is fire. I grit my teeth as she strokes me once, twice, her thumb circling the sensitive ridge beneath the crown.
A groan tears from me, raw and helpless.
“So hard for me, Marco,” she teases. “Just the way I like you.”
She doesn’t roll it on yet. No, she teases, as I teased her.
Fuck! Should have put it on myself.
Still can.
But I don’t.
I want to prove my restraint to her.
To myself.
Fuck!
She holds the condom poised at my tip, letting my pre-cum slick the latex, while her other hand still works my shaft in lazy, maddening pulls.
God. Jess. Jess. Jess.
Her eyes lock on mine, dark and fevered, as she leans forward. Her breath ghosts over me, hot and damp, and for a wild second, I think she’ll use her mouth. Instead, she presses a soft kiss to the head, tongue flicking out to taste me. A ragged curse escapes me.
My hips jerk involuntarily.
If she does that again, I’m done.
“Jess,” I warn, voice strangled.
She smiles against my skin, all heat and sin.
Finally, she pinches the reservoir tip between her fingers, her movements agonizingly slow. She guides the latex down, her touch feather-light, torturous. Her thumb grazes the vein throbbing along my length, and I swear my knees buckle. Pre-cum leaks freely now, making the condom glide easier.
But she doesn’t rush. She rolls it down with exquisite precision, her nails scraping lightly against my skin, her breath coming in shaky puffs that fan over my balls.
It’s torture. For both of us.
I’m panting, sweat beading my brow. Her pussy is right there, glistening and wet, and the scent of her is driving me insane. My cock jumps in her hand, desperate for friction, for release. For her.
She feels it and her grip tightens, her thumb pressing into that tender spot beneath the head again. Stars burst behind my eyelids. I’m so fucking close, the pressure building like a storm in my gut. One more stroke, one more flick of her thumb...