Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Lila
The first day at my new job felt like stepping into a new skin.
The office was bright with exposed brick walls, long communal tables, and fresh plants everywhere. My desk was tucked in a corner with a view of the street below.
I spent the morning in onboarding meetings, learning the design software they used, and meeting the team, which I was pleasantly surprised that the staff was mostly women.
I tried not to think about Marcus every five minutes. But I did. Constantly.
He’d kissed me goodbye that morning. It had been slow and lingering as his hand cupped the back of my neck, as if he were memorizing the feel of me.
“Text me when you have a chance,” he said.
The care he gave me made my chest ache.
My day was packed, but I welcomed the busy day. This was what I went to school for, and actually getting started with my new profession gave me a sense of pride and independence.
The morning flew by in a whirlwind of introductions, system logins, and a quick overview of current client projects.
I ate at my desk while skimming mood boards for a local brewery rebrand. The creative director, a sharp woman named Elena who looked like she could run a Fortune 500 company in her sleep, stopped by to say my first solo task would be mocking up social assets for the brewery campaign.
“No pressure,” she’d said with a wink. “Just make it sexy, but not sleazy.”
I spent the afternoon buried in Photoshop and Illustrator, layering textures, playing with fonts, tweaking color palettes until the screen blurred. It felt good to lose myself in something that was mine.
Just me, the work, and the quiet thrill of knowing I was good at this.
When five o’clock hit, I packed up, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. The drive home was golden-hour soft, windows down, radio low. I texted Marcus a quick update that I’d survived day one and would be home soon.
His reply came almost immediately about how proud he was of me, that he’d cooked dinner, and couldn’t wait to see me.
I smiled the entire way home.
The house smelled like garlic and tomatoes when I walked in. Marcus was at the stove, sleeves rolled up, stirring sauce in a way that made his forearms flex. He looked up, gave me that small, genuine smile that always hit me in the chest.
“Hey,” he said. “How was it?”
“Good. Really good.” I dropped my bag and crossed to him, leaning against the counter. “Everyone is so nice, and the work feels… right.”
He turned the burner down, wiped his hands, and pulled me into his arms. No rush. Just holding me, chin on my head, one hand rubbing slow circles on my back.
“I’m glad,” he murmured. “You deserve to feel that.”
We stood like that for a long minute, our bodies pressed together, breathing in sync. It wasn’t sexual because it was something deeper. The kind of closeness I hadn’t known I was starving for but knew I’d only get with him.
Dinner was relaxed as we ate at the island, knees touching under the counter, talking about my day. I told him about the brewery project and how I loved Elena’s no-nonsense vibe.
He listened like every detail mattered, asking questions, and laughing when I told him about nearly spilling coffee on the creative director’s laptop.
After we cleared the plates, we ended up on the couch. He pulled me against his side, arm around my shoulders, my head on his chest. We watched some mindless crime show, but mostly, we just talked.
About the future.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said after a while, voice low. “Once the house sells, I’m looking at property outside of town. Something with land. A workshop. Maybe a small cabin.”
I tilted my head to look at him. “Sounds peaceful.”
“It does.” He traced lazy patterns on my arm. “Have you thought about where you’ll live after the house sells?”
I was quiet for a long moment, too long because things started to feel weird.
“There’s room for two, if you want?”
My heart stuttered. “You mean…?”
“I mean, I don’t want this to end when the house is sold.” His eyes met mine, his expression serious and unguarded. “I know I want you in my life, Lila. Not just here in the moment, but wherever I end up.”
I swallowed. “I want that, too.”
He kissed my forehead. “Then we figure it out. Together.”
We fell asleep like that, tangled on the couch, his heartbeat steady under my cheek. No sex. Just a closeness that made the forbidden part feel almost… normal.
After that night, things felt incredible. There wasn’t this back and forth between us that confused and angered me.
It was as if he’d used that time to sort through his uncertainty and guilt until he knew what was right.
Us together.
The next week was the same rhythm. Work for me, long days for him, but the evenings belonged to us. We cooked together, watched movies, and talked about regular things like his favorite childhood memories or the worst jobs we’d ever had.
Marcus told me about building his first boat when he was twelve. It sank the first time he put it in the water, but he’d been proud of it.
One night, after a long day, we lounged in the living room. I was curled against him on the couch, his arm around me, fingers playing with my hair. My phone buzzed on the coffee table.
I glanced at it. “It’s Sarah. Probably wants to know if I’m free this weekend.”
Marcus smirked. “Answer it.”
I picked up the phone, hit accept, and put it on speaker so he could hear. “Hey.”
“How’s it going? How’s the new job? Any hot coworkers?”
I laughed and felt my face heat at the latter, sneaking a glance at Marcus. “Good. Busy. Ugh, no,” I answered each question in quick responses.
Marcus slid to the floor on his knees on front of me, pressing a kiss to my stomach through my clothes. I sucked in a breath.
“You okay?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah, just… pulled a muscle when I stretched.” The lie came easily, and Marcus grinned.
His mouth dipped lower, biting the waistband of my leggings.
“What’s up?”
“Just checking in. The girls and I want to drag you out Friday. Drinks. Dancing. You in?”
He peeled off my leggings, exposing my dripping pussy. With feather-light strokes, he circled my clit with his finger. I bit my lip to stifle my moan.
“Lila?” Sarah prompted.
I cleared my throat again. “Y-yeah,” I managed. “Friday. Sounds fun.”
Marcus swiped my pussy in one lick and thrust his tongue inside me. My legs clenched around his head, thighs trembling.
“You sure you’re okay?” Sarah laughed. “You sound weird.”
“I’m...good. Fine.” His thumb pressed my clit, tongue fucking deeper. “Just...tired. Long day.”
Marcus leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Tell her you’ll call her back,” he whispered. “Then come for me.”
Thank God. “Sarah, I gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She laughed. “Okay, babe. Get some rest. Bye.”
“Bye.” I hung up fast, my cell clattering to the floor.
Marcus laughed low against my neck. “Good girl.”
He thrust his tongue harder, thumb relentless on my clit. I rode his face shamelessly, moaning his name, hips grinding down.
“Get off for me, pretty girl,” he growled. “Come all over my face.”
I shattered for him. My pussy clenched as I cried out and came. Marcus worked me through it, drawing out every tremor until I was shaking, and slumped against his chest.
He took one last, long lick over my pussy and gave a soft kiss on my clit. “So fucking hot,” he murmured. “Talking on the phone while I tongue-fuck you. Listening to me like my good girl.”
I laughed weakly, breathless.
The so wrong it’s right edge, and the risk of being caught only made it hotter. I was fucked up for loving it, that was for sure.
But I wouldn’t change a thing.