8. Chloe
T he journey to Marcus’ penthouse seemed to be over in a flash. We sat in deafening silence, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Instead, I shuffled around on his ridiculously comfy leather seats and stared out at the passing scenery.
All manner of thoughts were rushing through my head. While I’m fucking annoyed as hell that yet another decision has been taken away from me, and I’m being treated like an object being passed around, I can’t say I’m entirely upset by the situation.
After all, this is exactly what Marcus promised he’d do. I may not like his methods, but I’m out of my parent’s house for a while, and my wedding has been delayed, which was all I wanted.
It just fucking irritates me that Marcus, of all people, was able to get me out of the mess I was in. I’m also not entirely sure what to expect from this little arrangement.
According to Jake, Marcus owns me for the next sixty days. I have to do whatever he tells me, no questions asked—that alone makes me grind my teeth in frustration. I may have been raised to follow orders, but it doesn’t mean I fucking like it.
Also, I hate how much my stomach sank when Jake clarified that nothing sexual would happen between us. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t exactly thrilled that my brother was whoring me out after losing a bet, but I can’t deny my mind went to a very dirty place—one I quite like the thought of.
Ever since that night at Caged, to say Marcus and his dirty words have been on my mind would be a fucking understatement. His words have been echoing through my head so often that I could probably recite them. I don’t even want to think about how many pairs of knickers I’ve ruined thinking about him, dreaming about him.
It wasn’t just the sexual chemistry that pulled me in. Yes, him calling me a slut did stupid things to me, but the promises he made meant more. He said he could give me back the control I’ve been longing for—something I stopped hoping for a long time ago.
Initially, I was convinced it sounded stupid, like something a guy would say to get a girl into bed. ‘Be my slut, do as I say, and you’ll feel like the one with all the power’ .
Then I remember how I felt in the alleyway. When Marcus looked like he was struggling to control himself, that made me feel powerful. He’s the most put-together, controlled man I know, yet he was struggling to do the right thing because of me.
In truth, I want nothing more than to claim back the control that was taken from me a while ago, but I also want him. No matter how much I tell myself I don’t, there’s something about Marcus Morelli that draws me in. He’s forbidden and dangerous, that one guy you know you’re not supposed to like, so of course you do.
Even when he’s pushing me away, being the perfect arsehole I’m supposed to hate, I still like him.
He doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile. He doesn’t baby me the way my family always has. He’s not afraid of telling me things I don’t want to hear, because he knows it won’t break me—I’ve survived much worse.
So why did it hurt so much when he said nothing sexual would happen between us?
As soon as he said I’d have to beg him, I saw red. The slutty side of me was on her knees, begging already, but the girl fighting to claw back some semblance of control held firm.
I told him I’d never beg him, and the responding look was pure sin. I saw the challenge, and I didn’t know what the hell to think.
The confusing swirl of words and emotions have been on repeat in my brain, and I’ve reached the point where I have no idea what to expect while I’m with him.
Honestly, it’s driving me crazy, which is why I’ve decided to confront him as soon as we arrive at his penthouse. I just hope I can hold my nerve.
Although Marcus and Jake have been friends nearly my whole life, it occurs to me, when we pull up to the tall high-rise building, that I’ve never been to Marcus’ penthouse, despite it being across the road from Jake’s.
I’ve been to Morelli Manor, the large stately home his father lives in, where Marcus grew up, but I’ve never been here.
We pull into the underground parking garage, and after being let in by security, Marcus pulls into a spot at the very end of the row, nearest the lift. As soon as I climb out, I’m overwhelmed by the amount of ridiculously expensive cars. I don’t have to be a petrolhead to know that there’s a lot of super cars here.
He catches me staring, and looks like he’s about to say something, but instead, he turns and starts walking towards the lift.
I stand near the boot of his car, and when he realises I’m not following, he looks over his shoulder at me in confusion. “What? Do you not like lifts?”
I roll my eyes and point to the boot of his car. “All my bags are still in the boot, remember?”
He shakes his head with the look of confusion growing to the point you’d think I had a third boob. “Someone will come and collect them. They’ll be in your room before I finish giving you the tour,” he states, sounding more posh than usual.
“I didn’t know you have staff for that sort of thing,” I state bluntly.
Obviously, his family has money, as does mine. In fact, Morelli Manor is even bigger than our house, with way more rooms and land. His father has staff that work at the Manor, but other than the security staff Marcus always has with him, I didn’t know he had his own staff at the penthouse.
Marcus just shrugs his shoulders like it’s not a big deal. “I don’t really. I have security staff that are responsible for keeping me and this place safe, and they usually help out with things like this. They won’t go through your bags, but they will scan them to make sure it’s safe before taking them to your room.
“I also have a woman who helps take care of the place. She does all the cleaning and sorting, but that’s it.”
“I was expecting you to say you have butlers, drivers, and private chefs, like at Morelli Manor,” I confess, my cheeks heating as I blurt out my thoughts.
He shakes his head with a small smile. “I moved out to get away from all of that. Anyway, shall we go in?”
He points to the lift, and I realise that the whole time we’ve been talking, I’ve just been standing by his car like a crazy person. I rush over to him, knowing my cheeks are going to be even fucking redder than they were before.
The lift arrives within seconds, and as the door opens, he places his hand on my lower back to guide me inside. “After you,” he says, his voice a deep grumble.
Fuck, my stomach flips and my skin tingles where his hand is against me. It’s barely even a touch, yet my nerve endings feel like they’re on fire.
He guides me into the lift, and I turn to face the door once we’re both inside. He drops his hand, so he can press the button for the penthouse, and it seems to take fucking ages for the doors to close. I choose to ignore the way my body seems to ache over the loss of his touch.
With each nanosecond that passes, it’s like the air starts to sizzle around us. He’s standing so close, I can feel the warmth from his body.
Thanks to the romance books I read, I’m now analysing our proximity in the confined lift, sexy thoughts flashing into my head like a dirty movie.
I want him to push me up against the lift wall, to slide his leg in between mine until I’m grinding on his thigh. I want him to wrap his hand around my neck while his other arm cages me in, completely dominating me. I want to feel the press of his soft lips against mine as he swallows my moans with his kiss.
The loud ping of the lift announcing we’ve reached our destination pulls me out of my fantasy, and I have to blink a few times to clear my mind.
Am I sweating? I feel like I’m sweating in places I didn’t know I could sweat.
The biggest problem with the fantasy is that I already know, if anything were to ever happen between me and Marcus, my imagination wouldn’t even come close.
That one incident in the alleyway taught me that. His actions and domineering presence caught me off-guard in a way I never expected.
Now I know that my imagination is woefully lacking—and given how wet my knickers currently are, that’s saying something—I’m a little worried about anything happening in real life. I have an awful feeling that Marcus Morelli has the power to break me, and I’m not sure I want to stop him.
As the doors open, Marcus walks out first, motioning for me to follow. As soon as I walk into the hallway, I’m stunned. I don’t know what I expected, but this is not it.
The long corridor has several doors on either side. Despite it having no windows, the space is so light and bright, with crisp white walls and beautiful black picture frames. The black wooden doors contrast so well with the sleek white walls, making the place look elegant in an unexpected way.
“This is where you can hang your coat and leave your shoes,” Marcus says, pulling open the door on the immediate right of the entrance to reveal a small utility room.
There’s a row of coat hooks along one wall, with shoe storage along the floor. There’s also a splattering of umbrellas, bags, and other random items, that all seem to have their own place.
Marcus removes his shoes, and it seems so weird to see him in just socks. He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the door, loosening his tie as he does. Without giving it much thought, I take off my uncomfortable heels and place them beside his, as I slip off my coat.
Before I can reach up and place it on a hook, Marcus takes it and does it for me. It’s so domesticated that it completely throws me, and I’m once again lost for words. Luckily, I don’t need them, as Marcus leads us out of the utility room and continues the tour.
The apartment has three guest bedrooms—though one seems to have been claimed by Miles, his Head of Security—a small office, two bathrooms, and a master suite that has a small sitting room, a large bedroom, and a fucking gorgeous en-suite.
The claw tub alone grabbed my attention, until I saw the multi-jet rainfall shower big enough to fit several people inside. Hell, it’s even got a bench seat in there, so you can sit and enjoy the water streaming over you.
Damn, I wish this was my bathroom instead of Marcus’.
Don’t get me wrong, the bathroom that he tells me will be all mine is gorgeous. It has a large jacuzzi tub that I could spend hours in, and a waterfall shower similar to his, but there’s just something missing.
Every room he shows me is more beautiful than the last. Decorated in bright whites, black, and grey, it looks like it’s been done professionally. Everything is sleek and clean, but there’s also a nice homely feel to it.
Even though I wasn’t expecting a bachelor pad—that’s just not Marcus’ style—I didn’t in my wildest dreams think he’d live somewhere as beautiful as this.
Though, as I wander around, I note the lack of a personal touch. There are no photos on the walls, no memories dotted about. The house looks immaculate, but it doesn’t tell me anything about Marcus.
As he leads me to the final guest bedroom, he looks a little hesitant for the first time during the whole tour, like he’s unsure what I’ll say. With his hand on the door handle, he turns to face me.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure what you’d want your room to look like, and given I didn’t really have much of a plan, I’m sort of winging it. But after talking to Miles, I know it’s important for you to have a safe space while you’re here. I want this place to feel like home while you’re here.
“I’ve left it how it was, for now, but I figured we could decorate it any way you’d like. If there’s any particular furniture you’d like, let me know and I can get it for you. Basically, it’s your space, and you can do what you want with it. Of course, I’ll pay, and help with decorating, so you don’t have to do it all yourself.”
The words rush out of him in a way I’ve never heard before. He’s almost babbling, saying whatever comes into his head, and I hate how fucking adorable it is.
Without thinking, I reach out and place my hand on his arm. His gaze flicks to me, his eyes darken in a way that makes my thighs clench.
“Thank you,” I whisper, hoping it’s enough to convey what I’m feeling, while stopping his adorable rambling.
We both stand frozen, just staring at each other as the air around us seems to crackle. As always, Marcus regains his composure much quicker than me, and he pushes the door to my new room open, breaking the weird bubble we just found ourselves in.
I take in the room, and I’m shocked by how much I like it just the way it is. Compared to the other rooms, this one feels the most homely.
It has pale blue walls, deep mahogany furniture, and the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, with a deep midnight blue duvet covering it. Seeing the cute little throw cushions in various shades of blue scattered over the top makes me want to dive onto the bed.
“It’s beautiful,” I say as I cast my eyes around the room again, catching more cute little details, like the fluffy rug on the floor.
“Like I said, you can change anything,” Marcus replies gruffly, like he thinks I might not mean it.
“I don’t want to. I really do love it.”
This time when his piercing gaze fixes on mine, that signature smirk of his turns into an actual smile. “I’m glad you like it. Nobody’s ever stayed in here before.”
“Why do you have so many rooms if you don’t have guests?” I blurt out.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Miles has claimed one of the rooms, and then the other I showed you is the one I tend to use for when people stay over, as it’s the furthest away from my room.
“With this one being right beside mine, I’ve always left it empty, but I meant what I said, I want you to have a space that’s all yours. Having a room no one has ever stayed in before seemed to fit that bill.”
Without thinking, I reach out and grab his hand, squeezing as I smile up at him. “Thank you, that means a lot. ”
He looks down at where our hands are connected, not even blinking. I should pull away, but the warmth from his touch is too much. My whole fucking hand is tingling, and I can’t bring myself to drop it. I’m a little surprised that he hasn’t.
In true Chloe fashion, my brain decides to ruin the moment with a bit of verbal diarrhoea when I say the first thing that comes into my head, consequences be damned. “Did you mean it when you said you wouldn’t touch me while I’m here?”
His eyes flick between mine and our hands, his brow furrowing as my words ring loudly in the air. Clearly misunderstanding my question, he lets go of my hand quickly, almost like it burnt him.
“Sorry, I did say I wouldn’t touch you,” he mumbles, taking a small step back, as if trying to clear his head. But that’s the last thing I want.
Finding a confidence I didn’t know I had, I take a step towards him, crowding his space.
“Actually, you initially said you wanted to teach me to be a slut, to help give me back the control I crave, but then you said you wouldn’t touch me. Forgive me for being a little confused.”
The last part comes out much snarkier than I’m expecting, and Marcus tries not to smile when he hears it. This time, he takes a step towards me, closing the already small gap, so he’s very much in my personal space.
In fact, he’s so close I can feel the warmth of his breath fluttering over my lips, and my mouth suddenly feels very dry. Even running my tongue over my lower lip doesn’t seem to help.
I hear an almost unperceivable gasp, and my eyes flick up to Marcus, who’s watching my tongue trace its path. He looks almost hypnotised, but then his face scrunches up like he’s in pain.
“I meant it all. I can give you everything that you’re looking for. I can teach you and torment you, without ever touching you. If you want me to touch you, you’ll have to beg first, and I’ll only do it when I want to,” he explains, his gravelly voice rasping beside my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“I don’t understand.”
Talk about stating the fucking obvious. I can’t think clearly when he’s this close, and all the blood has evacuated my brain for other areas.
“Sit!” he snaps, pointing at the bed.
There’s a small part of me that wants to tell him I’m not a fucking dog and I don’t take demands, but all good sense appears to have left my brain, and I’m seated on the edge of the bed before I know it. My legs move of their own accord, propelled by my vagina .
“You want to be in control? You want to feel powerful?” He phrases them like questions, so I simply nod, my mouth far too dry to find actual words right now. “Do you believe you can achieve that by giving up control?”
My brain spins as I try to make sense of his question. “How can I gain control by giving it up? That doesn’t make sense.”
He chuckles as he takes a step back, pulling off his tie at the same time. My eyes are wide as fucking saucers as I watch every movement, my heart racing in anticipation.
“When it comes to sex, I have to be the one in control. I call the shots, I make demands, and I expect the person I’m with to follow them without hesitation. I prefer to be dominant, and I like the girl I’m with to submit. But that doesn’t mean I’m the one with all the power. Something like that requires trust,” he explains, throwing his tie on the floor.
I take in a shuddered breath, my skin suddenly feeling really fucking overheated.
It doesn’t come as a great surprise to me that a man like Marcus enjoys being in control—he practically oozes that Alpha persona. What surprises me is how much I like the idea of submitting to him.
After everything I’ve been through, I swore I’d never let another man take anything from me, including control, yet there’s something about this that appeals to me.
“If you’re dominating her, surely you’re the one with the power. She has to do as you say.” My voice sounds so quiet and unsure, because I am. I need him to help me make sense of what he’s talking about.
He lets out a deep chuckle, that smirk of his growing. “No, she doesn’t have to do as I say, she chooses to. There’s a big difference.
“If you give over control to me, that’s something you’ve chosen to do. I haven’t taken it from you, and you can still claim it back. You set boundaries, and are able to say when things become too much.
“I might be the one calling the shots in the moment, but you’re the one creating the rules to play by, and any guy who has ever made you believe different is a fucking arsehole,” he growls, his eyes flaring with anger at the mention of my past.
For a moment my heart stops, and I wonder if he knows my secret, but that would be impossible. I’ve never told anyone, so there’s no way. He’s just hitting closer to the mark than I’d like.
“I’m still confused,” I admit, hating how foggy my brain feels when he’s looking at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, like he can see into my soul, and it scares the shit out of me .
“Why don’t I show you how much control you really have?”
Before I can respond, he reaches down and slides the zipper to his trousers open. My heart stutters and my breathing turns into panting as all the air is sucked from the room.
He’s still standing a fair distance away, and he hasn’t moved closer, so my mind is working a million miles a minute to figure out what the hell he’s doing.
As soon as the zipper is down, he pulls his white shirt out of the waistband of his trousers, and I ignore the way my breathing hitches when I catch sight of the patch of skin just above, and the trail of hair leading into his boxers.
His trouser button is still fastened, and I have to mentally scream at myself to stop looking at the bulge that’s threatening to break through where his zip was.
“Most women think it's easy for men to get a hard-on. That our dick perks up at the first sight of a pretty girl in a tight dress, and when we were horny fucking teenagers, that’s true. But the older we get, the more selective we are. It takes more to turn us on, and at my age, I’ve learnt exactly what I like.
“You could bring a random girl in here, with big tits and a bare cunt, have her get naked and shake her arse, and there’s a good chance I wouldn’t even get a semi. I’m much more particular about what I like,” he says gruffly, as he begins to unfasten the top button of his shirt.
Wrong fucking button.
I hate the way I’m screaming in my head, wishing he was opening the button on his trousers instead, but I can’t deny I’m fucking hypnotised by him. Not just his deeply seductive, slow, purposeful movements, but also the words.
I have no idea where he’s going with this, but someone could set off a bomb in the next room and I still wouldn’t move.
With each button he opens, he keeps his gaze locked on me, and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I can’t seem to find the words.
He watches my mouth twist as I try to form words like a human, and when I give up, that fucking self-satisfied smirk of his grows.
Just as he begins exposing the hard lines of his abs, his words cut through my haze. “I know exactly what I like, and believe it or not, it’s incredibly hard to find.”
That catches me unaware, and before I know it, I’m blurting out, “Why?”
He lets out a little sigh, that I see more than hear as my eyes are glued to his fucking god-like chest, watching as he pops the last of his buttons and his shirt falls open. My mouth gapes, and I worry that I’m drooling.
“In the past, I may have been willing to try with someone, but now I’m not. People who watch too many Disney movies would say I’ve kissed all the frogs, and now I’m waiting for the real thing,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.
A very undignified snort breaks free, and I slap my hand over my mouth in a delayed attempt to cover up the awful noise. But the mere idea of Marcus referring to himself as a Disney princess is one of the funniest things I’ve heard in a long time.
As soon as he hears my laugh, his eyes darken and he takes a step towards me. I feel like prey trapped in the path of a predator, and I’m too frozen to move. “What’s so funny, Mio?”
There’s that word again. I need to ask what it means, but I’ll stick to answering his question—for now. “You are no Disney princess.”
His smirk grows wider and he seems almost dangerous as he takes off his open shirt, throwing it onto the floor. My eyes are fucking wide as saucers, and I’m not sure I’m even blinking. My gaze is focused on the hard ridges of his pale, beautiful chest.
“I never said I was… I know I’m the villain in every story, but my point still stands.”
When he says the word villain, his tone is almost a growl, as though that will make me more afraid of him.
“So, how do you know if you’ve found the real thing?” I ask, trying to get us back on track…whatever the hell track we’re on.
For the first time, he breaks our eye contact, and he drops his gaze down to his trousers. I watch with rapt attention as he slides his hands over the waistband, until he reaches the closed button. When he finally pops it, my heart skips a beat.
As he begins sliding them over his hips, he lifts his gaze to meet mine once again, and his eyes are almost dark, hooded with the same lust I’m sure he sees reflected back. I pull my lower lip in between my teeth, biting to distract from the way my body is practically vibrating with nervous energy.
Teenage me daydreamed about this moment practically every fucking day and night, from the moment I first realised I had a crush on my brother’s best friend.
No matter how much I told myself I shouldn’t, that he’s an arsehole, that he doesn’t feel the same…none of it mattered. You can’t help what your brain thinks about when left to its own devices, and mine has been thinking of Marcus for years.
I’ve imagined every scenario you could possibly think of. I’ve pictured every inch of his body in my head. I’ve dreamt of every possible thing that he could say to me…or so I thought. Because nothing in the world prepared me for this.
My imagination was woefully fucking inadequate at dreaming up Marcus, as this real life version is so much better.
His trousers drop to the floor and he steps out of them, kicking them to the side with his foot. Marcus stands before me in just his tight black boxers, and it’s impossible to miss the bulge that’s straining against them.
I must have been staring for much longer than is acceptable, as Marcus lets out a short laugh, pulling my attention back to that cocky smirk of his. “This is how I know,” he states confidently, taking his hand and gripping his hard length over his boxers.
As his hand wraps around his shaft, Marcus lets out a low groan, and I gasp loudly, my core clenching at how fucking hot this is. His eyes are fixed on me, but I can’t meet his gaze for long, my attention is pulled away when I see his hand move.
Marcus slowly palms his cock through his boxers, sliding his hand over his length, and I watch transfixed as it grows. As his cock becomes erect, his motions become more obvious. He slides his finger over the head of his cock, before moving back to the base, squeezing when he circles his hand around it.
“You did this,” he states loudly, and it’s enough to pull me out of the bubble I was in, stuck staring as he strokes his hardening length.
“What?” I mumble, completely fucking flustered by the whole situation.
My eyes meet his, and they’re so dark, my breathing stutters as I pull in a desperate gasp. The corner of his lip tilts, revealing the cutest fucking dimple, and I hate how he can be so fucking sexy and adorable, all at the same time.
“Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” he growls.
I shake my head slightly, my heart racing at the intensity of his words. Nobody has ever made me feel so much with one sentence. The fact he’s attracted to me is baffling, but telling me I’m the one to make his body react this way is something else. I’m lost for words.
Well, if I thought I was lost for words before, it’s nothing compared to when his hand disappears under the waistband of his tight black boxers. His large hand palms his cock, the black fabric preventing me from seeing anything except the outline of his movements.
“Each time I think of those fucking delectable curves of yours…or the way your skirt clings to your arse…or how your tits are pushed up to show off the most perfect cleavage…my cock gets impossibly harder. As I think of your sexy body, all the blood rushes to the head, making it pulse almost painfully.”
His words are deep and breathy, with an almost gravelly tone that makes me squeeze my thighs together. Though I suspect it’s far too late…my knickers are beyond ruined.
“Do you know how many times I’ve stroked my dick whilst thinking of you? Wondering what you look like without clothes, if your body is even fucking hotter underneath the tight dresses you wear. I think about how tight you are, and how fucking wet your little cunt gets when you think about me. Do you think about me?” he adds, looking almost shy at the vulnerability behind his question.
I feel like my mind has a few seconds delay on it. I’m still processing Marcus Morelli’s confession that he strokes his cock while thinking about me, so my brain barely registers the question.
When it does, I don’t know what to say. He’s being honest with me, but to tell him the truth now requires a level of trust I’m not sure I have yet.
Unfortunately, Marcus has a secret weapon, and he uses it to make me lose the last bit of good sense I had. He pulls the waistband of his boxers down just a fraction, showing me the purple engorged head he just mentioned, and at the sight of the pre-cum dripping from his tip, my brain becomes fuzzy.
“Yes.” It’s barely above a whisper, but when that smirk turns into a genuine smile, I know he heard me.
“Good girl,” he replies, and an honest to God shiver ripples down my spine. Why did that sound so unbelievably sexy coming from him?
Using his thumb, he swipes a bead of pre-cum off the tip and spreads it over the head, before his hand disappears behind the fabric once more.
“I’m a man who has to be in control at all times, yet you have power over me that I never gave you. It doesn’t take much from you and my dick is standing to attention, throbbing like I’m a teenager with no bloody control. Can you imagine how much of a fucking mess I’d be if you were actually trying to turn me on?” he says with a chuckle.
“I-I… I didn’t even know you liked me. I-I thought you…hated me,” I stutter, shaking my head rapidly, like that might change how bloody mind boggling this entire scenario is.
Marcus lets out a dark chuckle, but there’s no humour there.
“I definitely never hated you. I hated how you made me feel. You were off-limits, and I wasn’t allowed to find you attractive. I told myself repeatedly that you were nothing special.
“Still, you looked at me with those big fucking silver eyes, like you could see past all my bullshit, and that scared me. So I treated you like shit. I pushed you away and made you think I hated you, in the hope that you’d stop looking at me like you are right now.” His voice gets deeper and more urgent, and as the final word leaves his lips, he’s almost growling at me.
My mouth flops open, and once again I have no idea what to say. I thought I’d done a better job of hiding my schoolgirl crush, but it’s a bit too late now.
“I-I…I didn’t… ”
My words trail off, and I’m honestly not sure what I was about to say. Luckily, Marcus doesn’t need me to reply.
“You never stopped looking at me, and I have no idea if that’s a good thing or not. There’s a million bloody reasons why this is a bad idea, and I don’t give a shit about any of them. But I do stand by what I said before, I refuse to touch you until you trust me.”
Before I can even think about what I’m saying, the words tumble from my lips. “I do trust you.”
A sad smile crosses his face, like he doesn’t believe me, and I want to fight him, but his next sentence catches me off-guard.
“Then tell me why you need to take back control. I saw the change in you that began nearly a year ago. I was too consumed watching your brother fall apart, I missed the exact moment it happened to you, but when I started seeing the signs…I knew something big had occurred.”
My heart is racing, there’s a loud buzzing in my ears, and I’m suddenly feeling really fucking dizzy. It’s like the walls are closing in around me, and my breathing starts coming in short and sharp until I’m panting, desperately trying to pull in air, yet never getting enough.
Even though Marcus says he knows, I’m certain he doesn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked. But the fact he knows something happened, that scares me. Though not half as much as him wanting to know. Marcus isn’t the type of person who lets things like this go.
“I-I…It’s… I mean, it’s nothing,” I stutter, as sweat runs down my back.
Marcus shakes his head, but he doesn’t look disappointed in my answer. It’s almost like that’s what he expected me to say. “Okay.”
The way he says that one word sets me on edge. “I mean it,” I snap.
“Okay,” he repeats, which just winds me up even more.
“Stop saying that!”
The small almost sad smile morphs into that cocky smirk of his again, and his moodswing catches me off-guard. “We both know something happened. You can deny it all you want, but until you trust me enough to tell me about it, there will be no touching.”
I swear my vagina would have groaned with despair if it could. I want nothing more than to have those big, strong hands of his on my body, but talking about my past is out of the question.
I’ve spent over a year trying to push it from my mind, and although I’ve been wildly fucking unsuccessful, I’ve managed to keep it a secret, and I don’t plan on breaking the promise I made to myself.
I don’t know where the hell it comes from, but I try to turn the tables on him, to play him at his own game.
“That means I can’t touch you either, though. You will have to walk around with blue balls if you stick to this.”
He shakes his head, a wicked smile on his lips. His hand moving pulls my attention down to his cock, as he pulls his length out of his boxers. I have to hold back a fucking gasp at the size of him.
I blink rapidly a few times, wondering if I’m seeing things, but I’m not. He’s really that fucking big.
He wraps his hand around the base of his shaft, and he’s so wide, he almost struggles to get his fingers to meet. As he begins dragging his hand up and down his hard length, my body tingles and I’m frozen, staring at his movements.
“As much as I’d love for this to be your hand, I’m a patient man. I can wait, and I’ll continue using my imagination. I’ll picture what those pretty red lips of yours would look like stretched wide as I slide my cock into your mouth, imagining what your throat feels like swallowing around me. I bet you’d be able to take me deep, with a bit of practice.”
Fuck, now I really am going to have to throw my knickers away. I don’t think I’ve ever been wetter than I am right now. I have to clench my thighs together to try and alleviate a bit of the pressure that’s building in my core.
Yet, Marcus seems intent on pushing me even further into madness. “I bet if I were to slip my fingers into your knickers right now, I’d find you dripping wet. I can see you shimmying your hips, trying to clench your thighs together to ease some of that throbbing ache. Do you want to touch yourself right now?”
Hell fucking yes, I do , I shout in my head, but in reality, I stay silent. I’ve never touched myself in front of someone else before, and my self-conscious part holds me back.
“I bet if you were to slide one of your fingers in now, your pussy would be so wet and tight, wouldn’t it?” he asks, as he continues to run his hand up and down his shaft. I watch with rapt attention as his movements get quicker and more uncoordinated. “I can only imagine how tight your cunt would be if I were to push my cock in deep.”
A shuddered moan leaves my lips as my imagination goes haywire. That’s exactly what I fucking want, and he’s driving me crazy.
I nod, hoping that will be enough to let him know what I want, but I’m not that stupid. He won’t back down on his earlier request, and I can’t…
“I’m squeezing my hand tighter, and I still don’t think it’s anywhere close to how you’d feel. My cock is throbbing at the thought of sinking into you, watching as your cunt swallows all of me, stretching you more than any man has before.”
Oh, my God, his dirty words are nearly enough to make me orgasm right now, without him even touching me. That’s how much he’s setting my body on fire, and it’s like the most delicious form of torture, as he’s showing me what I could have, knowing this will never be enough.
“I’m so fucking close,” he growls, squeezing his cock as beads of pre-cum leak from the angry-looking tip. “This is all you, Mio. You have the power to make me fall apart.”
He looks at me with wide eyes, like I’m a fucking Queen, and my heart races. I’ve never felt as powerful or as sexy as when Marcus looks at me the way he is now.
“Do you want me to come for you?” he asks, giving me power over him.
“Yes.”
As soon as the word leaves my lips, Marcus lets out a roar as he explodes over his hand. He throws his head back, slams his eyes closed, and groans loudly as he slowly works the last bits of cum from his shaft. Most of it sprays into his hand, but some hits his stomach or the floor.
My eyes never leave his dick, watching with each spurt as he rides out the orgasm I gave to him without even touching him. My mind is blown, and my whole body is tingling. I doubt it would take more than a few strokes to my clit before my own orgasm rips through me, and it’s taking all my effort not to reach between my legs.
Marcus is panting loudly, and I slowly drag my gaze up his body to find his eyes are now open and latched on me, his expression dark and glazed with lust. “Next time, you’ll get on your knees so I can paint you with my cum. Or better yet, you can do it for me with your mouth. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mio?”
Words have gone and all I can do is nod, which earns me a cocky chuckle that makes me want to snap at him, if only I could remember how to speak.
“All you have to do is tell me what I want to know, then I’ll touch you as much as you’d like.” His smug expression is enough to bring me around, just a little.
“I can touch myself, thank you.” It sounded much more confident in my head.
“I’m sure you can, but now you know that I can drive you wild without ever touching you. I can promise, you’ll cave before I do.”
Before I can even begin to argue with him, which would be pointless as we both know he’s right, he turns his back to me, sliding his sticky cock back into his boxers. Picking up his discarded clothes, he walks out of the room, leaving me frozen to the spot.
It’s not until I hear his bedroom door close that I snap out of the trance he left me in. I’m so fucking screwed.
There’s something about Marcus that hypnotises me, and he’s right when he says I want nothing more than to give my body over to him. But the problem is, although I think I trust him, I’m not sure I’ll ever trust anyone enough to divulge my secret.
I have a feeling this is just the beginning. Marcus is going to do whatever it takes to get me to cave, to give myself over to him, but the only way that’ll happen is if I give him the one secret I vowed never to share with anyone.