CHAPTER 9 – Marcus #2
I match her rhythm, pumping my cock in my hand as she moves against her own fingers, her breath growing heavier, more desperate.
"That’s it," I groan, watching her, feeling the tight coil of desire in my stomach pull harder. "Keep going. I want to see you fall apart."
Her other hand grips the edge of the cabinet, her knuckles white as her body tenses, her pleasure cresting dangerously fast.
Her moans grow softer, broken. She’s right there.
I grit my teeth as I stroke myself harder, keeping my eyes locked on her, on the way her hips roll against her fingers, on the way her chest rises and falls, on the way her lips part just before she—
"Marcus—"
She releases.
Her entire body tenses, her back arching as pleasure overtakes her. The sight of her—this defiance melting into raw, shameless release—tips me over the edge, my own climax ripping through me at the same time.
The room is silent except for our ragged breathing.
She’s still trembling, legs slightly parted, fingers slick with her own desire.
I’m still gripping myself, spent and satisfied, watching her through half-lidded eyes.
Neither of us moves.
For a moment, we just exist there, stripped of all pretense.
Then, almost in unison, we move.
I stand from the bed as she slips down from the cabinet, our steps mirroring each other, our bodies closing the distance.
We meet in the middle of the room.
There’s a charge between us—thick, electric, undeniable. Her lips are parted, her skin flushed, her eyes heavy with the kind of hunger you can’t fake. I don’t say a word. I just sink to my knees before her.
Her breath catches audibly.
“Marcus—what are you doing?”
I look up at her from between her thighs, my hands already gripping her hips. “What I should’ve done the second you walked out of that bathroom.”
Her nightdress is sheer, silky, clinging to her still-damp skin. I drag it up over her hips, exposing the thin, soaked strip of lace between her legs. I don’t ask. I tear it off—ripping the fabric in one savage motion that makes her gasp. She’s bare to me now, glistening, already trembling.
“You’re soaked,” I murmur, pressing my mouth to her inner thigh, letting my breath feather over her skin. “You liked watching me stroke my cock. You liked touching yourself for me. But now, you’re going to let me taste that sweetness you’ve been hiding behind all that pride.”
She whimpers as I kiss a path up the inside of her thigh, slow and tormenting, my stubble abrading her soft skin. And then I’m there—my mouth on her pussy, tongue licking a long, lazy stroke from her entrance to her clit.
She moans—loud and broken—and her knees nearly buckle.
I groan against her, inhaling her scent like it’s oxygen. My tongue flicks her clit, then circles it, then suckles it into my mouth with obscene, wet precision. Her fingers claw into my hair, anchoring herself, grinding against my face with desperate rhythm.
“That’s it,” I growl between licks, tongue plunging into her core, fucking her with just my mouth. “Give it to me. Drown me in you.”
She’s keening now—small, frantic cries escaping her throat with every flick of my tongue. I lap her up like I’m starving, my mouth messy, greedy, filthy. I devour her like I own her. Like I’ll never get enough.
She shudders. “Fuck—Marcus—God—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” I clamp my lips around her clit and suck hard, my fingers sliding up to fuck her in tandem. Two deep thrusts, curling just right, and she explodes.
She screams my name as she comes on my tongue, shaking, spasming, thighs squeezing around my head. I hold her there, drinking every drop, refusing to stop until she’s writhing from the overstimulation, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from how violently her pleasure has ripped through her.
Only then do I stand—lips glistening with her release, eyes dark and dangerous.
She stares at me like she’s seen a demon and loved every second of it.
I don’t give her time to recover. I grab her, lift her, and toss her onto the bed like she weighs nothing. Her legs fall open for me on instinct now, her body greedy, twitching, still humming with orgasmic aftershock.
I yank off the rest of my clothes, crawling over her like a predator.
“You’ve come on my tongue,” I growl, kissing her ferociously. “Now you’ll come on my cock.”
And then I take her again—harder, deeper, filthier than before.
I thrust into her in one long, brutal stroke, burying myself to the hilt in her slick, drenched heat. Her back arches off the bed with a sharp cry, her fingers digging into my biceps like claws.
“Fuck—Marcus!”
“That’s right,” I hiss against her throat, hips grinding deep, savoring the velvet vice of her cunt clutching me. “Feel every inch. This is what your body’s been begging for.”
I pull back and slam into her again—hard, punishing, relentless. The bed frame groans beneath us, rhythmic and obscene, echoing the wet slap of skin on skin. Her legs wrap around my waist, ankles locking behind me, dragging me deeper, tighter.
Her moans dissolve into gasps, her body trembling beneath me, each thrust dragging her closer to another peak.
I drop my mouth to her throat, biting, sucking, marking her with possessive hunger.
She’s mine—fuck the paperwork, fuck the pretense.
This is ownership written in sweat, in moans, in the bruises I’m leaving on her hips.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” I growl, teeth grazing the curve of her ear. “You pretend you don’t, but you’re dripping for me. Begging without words.”
Her response is a cry, a filthy, helpless sound as I reach between us and circle her clit with two fingers, fast and merciless. Her whole body jolts, her pussy clenching hard around my cock.
“I’m going to fuck you through another orgasm,” I snarl, voice guttural with lust. “You’re going to scream for me again. Come on my cock like the desperate little liar you are.”
She shakes her head, but her hips are betraying her, fucking herself on my length, chasing every thrust like she’s starving for it.
“God—Marcus—fuck—fuck—please—”
“What do you want, Leona?” My voice is a dark purr, my thrusts faster now, brutal and unforgiving. “Say it.”
“I want—fuck—I want to come—please, I need to come—”
“Then come for me,” I growl, slamming into her harder. “Show me how this body belongs to me now.”
She shatters again—violently, beautifully, her scream strangled in her throat as her climax rips through her. Her pussy clamps around me like a fist, pulling me deeper, milking me for everything.
I lose it.
My rhythm falters, hips jerking wildly as my own release crashes through me. I empty inside her with a savage groan, cock pulsing deep, hot, endless.
I collapse over her, braced on shaking arms, both of us gasping, drenched in sweat, soaked in lust.
She’s trembling, dazed, marked from head to toe by my mouth and hands. And I’m still hard inside her, unwilling to let go, not even now.
Because this wasn’t just sex. This was conquest. This was surrender. This was war—and I just claimed victory again and again between her legs.
I lean down, brushing my lips over hers, slow now. Reverent.
“This changes everything,” I whisper, voice rough.
She doesn’t answer—can’t. Her eyes are glassy, her breath shallow, her body completely wrecked.
And God, I’ve never seen anything so perfect.