6. Maisie
MAISIE
The professor's voice drones on about forbidden desire in contemporary American fiction, but I can't focus on a single word. My pen hovers over my notebook, the page mostly blank except for the date and a few scattered words that mean nothing.
All I can think about is Marcus.
Three days since our conversation about him tracking my phone. Three days of the most intense, consuming relationship I've ever experienced. Every moment I'm here at Westbridge feels like wasted time. Like I'm marking hours until I can go home to him.
Home. That word means something different now. Not Dorothy's suffocating house with its rules and surveillance. Marcus's villa, where I'm free to be myself. Where I'm wanted. Claimed. His.
My body shifts in the uncomfortable lecture hall seat and I wince.
The soreness between my legs is a constant reminder.
Marcus took me twice this morning before letting me leave for class—once in bed and once in the shower.
Thorough and possessive, like he was marking his territory before sending me out into the world.
I love it. The ache. The reminder. Walking through campus feeling him with every step.
"Miss Fletcher?"
I jerk my attention back to the front of the room. Professor Johnson waits expectantly.
"Sorry, what?"
"I asked for your thoughts on the Lolita reading. The relationship between transgression and desire."
Heat floods my cheeks. Of course. Of all the topics.
"I think... the forbidden nature intensifies the desire. Makes it more consuming because it's something you're not supposed to want."
The professor nods, satisfied, and moves on to another student. I sink lower in my seat.
He has no idea how much I understand that concept now.
Class finally ends. I pack my books quickly, eager to get to my car. Marcus will be checking the app, expecting me to head straight home like I promised.
"Hey, Maisie, got a minute?"
I freeze at the doorway. Tyler stands there with his easy athlete's confidence, university hoodie and that smile that probably works on most girls.
It does nothing for me.
"Hi, Tyler. I'm actually in a hurry?—"
"I'll walk with you." He falls into step beside me before I can protest. "I wanted to ask about the midterm project. Professor said we could partner up."
We exit into the afternoon sunshine. The campus is busy with students between classes, and I navigate through the crowds with Tyler matching my pace.
"I haven't really thought about partners yet."
"We should team up. You're smart, I'm decent at research. We'd make a good team."
His hand touches my lower back, guiding me around a group of freshmen blocking the path. The casual touch makes my skin crawl.
I step away subtly. "Tyler, I really need to go?—"
"Come on, we've barely talked all semester." He moves closer again, invading my personal space. "Want to grab coffee? Discuss the project?"
"I can't. I have... someone waiting for me."
His expression shifts—disappointment mixed with curiosity. "Boyfriend?"
The question stops me. What is Marcus exactly? My stepfather technically, though that word feels wrong for what we are. My lover? My everything? The man who owns me body and soul?
Before I can formulate an answer, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out. Text from Marcus: "Where are you? You're supposed to be heading to your car."
My heart jumps. I look around the campus, scanning the parking lot in the distance.
There.
Marcus's black Mercedes sits in the far lot, and he leans against the driver's door. Arms crossed over his broad chest. Even from here I can see the tension in his posture, the way his gray eyes are fixed on me and Tyler.
How long has he been watching?
"Who's that?" Tyler follows my gaze.
"I have to go. Sorry."
I start walking toward Marcus, my pulse pounding. Tyler calls after me about the project, but I don't stop. Don't look back.
All I see is Marcus.
His expression as I approach makes my breath catch. Controlled. Barely. The jealous possession in his eyes is unmistakable.
"Who's the boy?" His voice is steel wrapped in silk.
"Just a classmate. Tyler. He was asking about a project."
Marcus's jaw tightens, a muscle ticking. "He was touching you."
The statement lands like an accusation and a claim all at once.
"He was just—it wasn't—" I stumble over the explanation.
Marcus opens the passenger door, the movement sharp. "Get in the car."
The command in his tone makes my core clench. I get in without another word. Marcus closes the door firmly and moves around to the driver's side with controlled, precise movements.
The drive home is silent. Tension fills the car like a living thing. I sneak glances at Marcus—his hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white. His jaw stays clenched.
He's furious.
And god help me, it's making me wet.
We arrive at the villa. Marcus parks in the garage and turns off the engine. The silence stretches.
I break first. "Are you angry?"
Marcus turns to look at me, and the intensity in his gray eyes makes me shiver. "Angry? No. Jealous? Absolutely."
He gets out of the car. I follow, my legs unsteady.
The second we're inside the house, Marcus pins me against the wall. His body cages mine, six-foot-five of solid male dominance. "Did you like his attention?"
"No." The denial bursts out. "I was trying to get away from him."
Marcus's hand wraps around my throat—not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. "You're mine. No college boy gets to touch you."
Then he kisses me.
Brutal and claiming, his tongue invading my mouth. I moan into it, my hands clutching his shoulders. His other hand grips my ass roughly, then moves to my hip, my thigh. Everywhere he touches feels branded.
He lifts me easily and I wrap my legs around his waist. Instead of heading to the bedroom like I expect, he carries me to the living room and drops me onto the couch.
"Take off your clothes." His eyes are dark, predatory. "Now."
I obey without thinking, stripping off my shirt, my jeans, my bra and panties. Marcus undresses too, each movement sharp and controlled. When he's naked, his cock stands thick and hard, evidence of his arousal and jealousy.
"Hands and knees."
I turn and position myself as ordered. The couch cushion dips as Marcus moves behind me. His large hands grip my ass, spreading me.
No warning. No gentle preparation.
He thrusts into my pussy in one hard stroke.
"Ahh—Marcus—fuck?—"
The fullness is overwhelming. He's so thick, and I'm not quite ready, but the slight burn only adds to the intensity. Marcus sets a brutal pace immediately, fucking me with barely restrained violence.
Each thrust pushes me forward on the couch. I can only brace myself, hands gripping the cushion. His grip on my hips is bruising, fingers digging into my soft skin.
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. The wet sounds of my pussy taking his cock. My gasps and his growls.
"God—yes—harder—" I don't recognize my own voice, wrecked and desperate.
"This pussy is mine. No one else's. Say it." Marcus's voice is rough, commanding.
"Yours—" I gasp as he hits deep. "Only yours?—"
"That boy will never have you." Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust. "You belong to me. Every inch of you."
"Yes—"
"I'm going to fuck you so hard you feel me for days." His cock drives deeper, harder. "Make sure you remember who you come home to."
I love this side of him. The barely controlled dominance. The possessive jealousy. My pussy clenches around his cock, pulling him deeper.
"Yes—yours—no one else?—"
Marcus pulls me upright by my hair. My back meets his chest, his arm banding across my breasts. His other hand wraps around my throat as he fucks up into me from this new position.
The angle makes him hit impossibly deep. I can feel him in my stomach.
"You like making me jealous?" His breath is hot against my ear.
"No—I wasn't?—"
His hand moves from my throat to my stomach, pressing there possessively. "I'm going to fill this pussy with my cum."
The words send electricity through me.
"Going to come so deep inside you." His thrusts become more erratic. "Want to see you swollen with me, marked as mine in every way."
Oh god. The breeding talk triggers something primal in both of us.
"Yes—" I moan. "God yes—fill me?—"
"You want my cum? Want me to breed you?"
The taboo of it—my stepfather talking about breeding me—should horrify me. Instead it makes me wetter, hotter.
"Yes—please—Marcus?—"
His hand finds my clit, rubbing roughly. I'm already close, the combination of his cock and his fingers pushing me toward the edge fast.
My pussy tightens around him. "I'm going to—Marcus?—"
"Come. Come on my cock right now."
The command triggers my orgasm like he flipped a switch.
"Oh fuck—Marcus—yes?—"
My pussy clamps down on his cock, pulsing rhythmically. Pleasure explodes through every nerve. I can't think, can't breathe, can only feel.
Marcus thrusts deep and holds himself there. "Fuck—take it—take all of it?—"
His cock pulses inside me, flooding me with cum. He grinds against me, making sure every drop stays inside. I can feel the warmth of his release, the fullness.
We're both shaking through the intensity of our climaxes.
Finally, Marcus pulls out carefully. Some of his cum leaks from my pussy and he looks at the sight with dark satisfaction.
I turn in his arms, my green eyes meeting his gray ones. "You were really jealous."
"Yes." He doesn't deny it. "I don't like other men touching you."
"He wasn't—it was just?—"
Marcus cuts me off with a kiss. Gentler this time. "I know. But I don't care. You're mine, and I'm possessive as fuck about what's mine."
I find his jealousy flattering rather than frightening. "I like it. When you get all alpha male protective."
His expression softens slightly. "I'm working on it. The rational part of my brain knows you weren't doing anything wrong. But the irrational part wants to lock you away where only I can see you."
We eventually move to the bathroom, clean up together in the shower. The hot water soothes my sore muscles. Marcus is gentle now, washing me carefully.
Afterward, wrapped in robes, we settle on the bed. I need to bring it up.
"About the project... I do need a partner."
Marcus's jaw tightens but he nods. "Work with him if you need to. For school."
The concession clearly costs him.
"I'll work with him in public places. The library. Where you can track me if you want."
The acknowledgment of his stalker tendencies makes him relax slightly.
"I trust you. I just don't trust other men around you."
"No one interests me except you." I mean every word. "These college boys are... boys. You're a man."
Marcus pulls me closer, his expression serious. "We need to talk about what this is. What we're doing."
My heart speeds up. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... you're not just a fling to me. This isn't temporary."
Relief floods through me. "It's not temporary for me either."
He cups my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "I know there's the age gap. The history with your mother. Society's judgment. But I don't care about any of that. I want you. Permanently."
"I want that too." The certainty in my voice surprises even me.
"Then we're together. Officially. Exclusively."
I smile. "We weren't before?"
"I needed you to know this is real. Not just about the sex, though that's incredible. But about you. Us."
The declaration settles something in my chest. Makes everything feel more solid. Real.
We lie in bed together, Marcus's arms around me. The physical closeness feels different now—weighted with the acknowledgment of our relationship status.
I trace patterns on his chest, following the lines of his tattoos. "When you talked about... breeding me earlier..."
I trail off, unsure how to articulate the reaction it triggered.
"You liked that." His voice rumbles. Not a question.
I nod. "I don't know why, but yes. The idea of you... claiming me that way."
"It's primal. The ultimate possession. Marking you as mine in the most permanent way."
The explanation resonates deep in my core.
"We're not there yet." Marcus continues. "You're still in college. But someday..."
He doesn't finish the sentence but I understand. The future stretching before us, full of possibility and promise.
I fall asleep wrapped around him, contentment and certainty filling me.
Tomorrow will bring more challenges—college, Dorothy's harassment, societal judgment. But tonight, in his arms, none of that matters.
I'm his, he's mine.
And that's enough.