29. Preston #2
He watches me for a beat, and I bite the inside of my cheek, then blurt, “You should watch out for Serena. Yes, she’s your sister, but familial relationships mean zilch in Vencor. I mean, look at Grandma. She’d offer me to witches if she believed she could get a better heir.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Old hag thinks I’m a disgrace to the Armstrong name, and she’s not entirely wrong.
” I wave it off. “Anyway, Serena’s not bad per se, but she’s besties with my uncle Atlas and Julian…
Oh, Julian is Jude’s older brother, and he’s like a proper psychopath who’s obsessed with power.
The three of them are, so if she approaches you with anything, just be careful, yeah?
She’d sacrifice you to the devil to get where she wants to be. ”
His lips curl in a wide grin.
“What are you smiling about? I’m dead serious.”
“I like that you’re worried about me.”
“Who? Moi?” I pretend to search my surroundings as heat rises to my neck.
He chuckles softly, but he doesn’t push it. “Serena and I have an agreement, but you’re right, she’s changing the terms. I know how to deal with it, though.”
“How?”
“Dad. I believe he’s the only one who can stop her from hurting Mom.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But I truly hate asking him for anything.”
I don’t like this internal struggle within the Osborns that Marcus is caught in the middle of. I don’t like it at all.
Serena is known to eliminate anyone who poses a threat to her. What if she decides Marcus isn’t an opportunity but a hindrance? Then what?
Then she’ll be visited by my nastiest demon, that’s what.
But as Kane says, that’s just reactionary and doesn’t help if she buries Marcus in the foundation of one of her family’s buildings.
What can I do to prevent that outcome?
Marcus is staring at me, his head tilted, and the look in his eyes makes me shiver.
“Why are you looking at me so intensely?” I ask in a low voice.
“I’m admiring you.”
Jesus. I can feel the heat spreading all over my face. I better not be blushing like a little bitch. “Haven’t you admired me enough?”
“No. Never.”
Well, fuck. Now, I’m sure I’m blushing. Jeez, when did he learn to be so charming?
The asshole.
His lips curl in a smile and I frown. “Why are you smiling now?”
“You just look so adorable.”
“Stop smiling.”
“You’re the one who told me I should smile all the time, though.”
“When the fuck did I say that?”
“A long time ago. You said I look pretty when I smile.”
“I mean you do—” I cut myself off, and he grins wider. Can I fucking die, right this moment, please and thank you?
I can’t believe I consciously called him pretty.
Seriously, kill me.
I clear my throat, trying to dispel the situation. “Hey, Marcus?”
“Hmm?” His voice is husky and he sounds obviously tired. I feel bad for keeping him up when he clearly wants to sleep. Maybe I should pretend to doze off so he doesn’t feel the need to share my stupid insomnia?
I have to ask this first, though.
“Would you want to share me with others?”
He sits taller, the lazy expression that used to cover his face gone in a second, replaced by narrowed eyes. “Where did this come from?”
“I’m just asking.”
“You want that?” he asks slowly. “Me, sharing you? Watching you get railed by some other fucking cock—”
“Fuck no. Told you no other man will touch me.” My skin prickles and I kind of regret asking the stupid question, because Marcus’s face is unreadable now, strapped tight behind a veil of mocking, simmering rage.
“Then what? You want me to watch you fuck a woman?”
I lift a shoulder even if that prospect doesn’t move anything in me. “I thought you might want to. I heard you share your fuck buddies.”
“I suppose I did.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Would you share me?”
“Would you, Preston?”
“What?”
“You heard me.” He tilts his head to the side, speaking so calmly, yet his words still stab me deep. “Would you sit there and watch me pump my cock into an ass or a pussy as they moan and groan and—”
“I’ll fucking kill them,” I snap, breathing harshly. “Put your cock in any other hole, and I’ll slice their goddamn throats open. Don’t test me.”
“There’s your answer.” He smiles, stroking my cheek twice before letting his hand drop. “No sharing, are we clear?”
“But you’re used to that.”
“Not with you. I refuse the notion of anyone else touching you. It makes me see red.”
“Me too,” I say before I can stop myself and Marcus’s smile widens.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
A hand lands on my thigh, at the space where the boxer briefs meet my skin. It’s so warm and makes my head spin, I’m barely listening when he says, “You’re really not going to sleep?”
I shake my head, because his hand is still there, and I like it a bit too much to focus on anything else.
“Not even a little?” he coaxes, kneading the flesh between his long fingers.
“It’s better that I don’t,” I say absentmindedly, wondering if he’ll slide it up a little.
My cock twitches at the thought.
Fuck.
Again?
Seriously, dick, get a grip.
“Is it because of what happened the other time?” he whispers. “Are you apprehensive about showing me that part of you?”