3. Marla
MARLA
A week passes, and I can't stop thinking about Russ. Not in a romantic way, exactly, but the way his touch opened something inside me I didn't know existed.
Every time I sit down to write, my fingers remember the feel of his skin and the way his muscles moved beneath my palms.
My body remembers the pleasure he coaxed from me and how he made me feel desired and beautiful despite all my insecurities.
I've written more in the past seven days than I have in months.
The scenes flow naturally now, the intimate moments feeling real instead of clinical.
I understand what my characters are feeling because I've felt it myself. The research worked better than I could have imagined.
It's Friday evening again, and I'm curled up on my couch with my laptop when Sharon calls.
"So," she says without preamble. "When are you coming back to the Ivory Wolf? There's plenty more men to choose from."
I bite my lip, staring at the document on my screen. I've been thinking about it all week, wondering if I should go back.
One experience gave me so much material, but there's still so much I don't know.
Different dynamics, personalities, and approaches to intimacy.
"I don't know," I say slowly. "Maybe tonight?"
"Yes!" Sharon practically squeals. "This is perfect. You need more research, right?"
She's right. One night with Russ was incredible, but my book needs depth. If I'm going to write romance that feels authentic, I need to understand the full spectrum.
I refuse to listen to my inner voice telling me it's about more than research—-that it’s because I enjoyed it so much.
"Okay," I say, making the decision. "I'll be there in an hour."
I dress more carefully this time, choosing a deep green dress that hugs my curves and makes my eyes look brighter. I take time with my makeup and hair.
Last week I was nervous and uncertain. Tonight, I feel different. More confident and aware of my own sexuality and what I want.
The drive to the Ivory Wolf feels shorter this time, and when I walk through the doors, I don't feel the same anxiety.
Sharon greets me with a hug and a knowing smile before disappearing to take care of her tables.
I order a drink at the bar and let my gaze wander across the room. The atmosphere is the same as last week, sophisticated but edged with danger.
Men in expensive suits conduct quiet conversations in shadowed corners. The music pulses through the space, sensual and inviting.
And then I see him.
He's sitting alone at a table near the back, and unlike the other men who are engaged in conversation or watching the room with predatory interest, he's completely still.
His attention is focused entirely on me, and the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch.
He's older than Russ, maybe mid-forties, with brown hair that's graying at the temples.
Even sitting down, I can tell he's tall, his body lean but powerful beneath his perfectly tailored suit.
There's something about the way he holds himself, a quiet authority that doesn't need to be announced.
Where Russ was playful and charming, this man seems controlled and commanding.
He doesn't smile or wave me over. He simply watches, and somehow that's more compelling than any overt invitation.
I pick up my drink and walk toward him, my heart pounding.
As I get closer, I can see his eyes are a deep brown, assessing and intelligent.
There's a scar along his jawline, barely visible, and I wonder what kind of life leaves marks like that.
"Mind if I join you?" I ask when I reach his table.
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't." His voice is deep with an edge of command that sends chills of awareness along my nerves. He gestures to the seat across from him. "Sit."
It's not a request, and I find myself obeying without question. There's something about him that demands compliance, not through force but through sheer presence.
"I'm Marla," I say, settling into the chair.
"Alex." He doesn't offer a last name, and I don't ask. His gaze travels over me slowly and deliberately, taking in every detail. "You were here last week."
It's not a question, but I nod anyway. "I was."
I'd noticed him last week, too. He was one of the three guys I'd been attracted to and considered. Had he approached me before Russ, I would have taken him home with me. A slight unease skittered through me. Did he see me leave with Russ? Did he know that I'd taken another man home last week?
I mentally shook my head, determined not to think about that. If he noticed, he didn't say anything. And, come to think of it, I don't remember seeing him or the other guy in the club when I'd left with Russ.
He studies me for a long moment. "What are you looking for tonight, Marla?"
The directness of the question catches me off guard, but I appreciate it. No games, no pretense. Just honest communication.
A slow smile curves my mouth. I feel powerful, sensual, and sexual in a way I never have before. I feel almost giddy with it.
"A good time," I say, letting my smile spread across my face. I don't know where this boldness comes from, but I slowly run the tip of my tongue across my upper lip, watching how his eyes darken with heat and desire as he watches the movement.
"I can give you that." He stands, and I realize he's even taller than I thought. He offers me his hand. "My place is downtown. You'll follow me there."
Again, it's not a question. It's a statement of fact with an expectation that I'll comply. And God help me, I want to.
I take his hand, and his fingers close around mine with firm possession. We walk out of the Ivory Wolf together, and I'm acutely aware of the eyes that follow us. Sharon catches my gaze and gives me a thumbs-up, and I have to suppress a smile.
The drive to his place takes twenty minutes, my car following his sleek black Mercedes through the city streets.
When we pull up to a high-rise building in the heart of downtown, a valet takes both our keys. The lobby is all marble and glass, dripping with wealth and sophistication.
We don't speak in the elevator, but the tension between us is palpable.
His hand rests on the small of my back, a possessive touch that makes my skin tingle. When we reach his floor and he leads me into his condo, I have to stop and stare.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city, the lights twinkling like stars. The space is modern and sleek, all clean lines and expensive furniture. It's the complete opposite of my cozy cabin, a display of power and wealth that takes my breath away.
"Drink?" he offers, moving to a bar in the corner.
"No, thank you." I'm already feeling lightheaded from his presence. I don't need alcohol clouding my judgment.
He nods, setting down the glass he'd picked up. Then he crosses the space between us in three long strides, and suddenly he's right there, his hand cupping my jaw and tilting my face up to his.
His kiss is different from Russ's. He takes my mouth like he owns it, his tongue sliding against mine skillfully.
His hands move to my waist, then lower, cupping my ass and pulling me flush against him. I can feel the hard length of him pressing against my stomach, and heat floods through me.
I don't even know how we end up on the couch.
One minute he's kissing me, and the next I'm on my back looking up at him.
Our eyes meet and hold for a hot second and then suddenly he's covering me, and I love the feeling of being surrounded by him, dominated by his presence.
"This dress," he murmurs against my neck, his hands finding the zipper. "It's been driving me crazy since you walked into the club."
He strips it off me efficiently, along with my bra and panties, until I'm completely naked beneath him.
His gaze travels over my body with the same deliberate assessment he gave me earlier, and I fight the urge to cover myself.
He stands and removes his own clothes with quick, economical movements.
When he's naked, I can see I was right about his body. He's lean but powerfully built, every muscle defined.
There are scars scattered across his torso, but they only add to his appeal.
His cock is hard and thick, and my mouth goes dry at the sight.
He kneels between my thighs, his hands gripping my hips. "I'm going to make you come on my tongue first," he says, his voice rough with desire. "Then I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name. Understood?"
I nod, unable to form words, and he smiles. It's a predator's smile, all teeth and promise.
His mouth on me is devastating. He knows exactly what he's doing, exactly where to lick and suck and tease.
His tongue circles my clit with maddening precision, then dips inside me, tasting and exploring.
When he adds his fingers, curling them to hit that spot inside me that makes me see stars, I come apart with a cry that echoes through the condo.
When he enters me in one smooth thrust, I gasp at the fullness, the stretch. He's big, filling me completely, and he holds still for a moment, letting me adjust.
He starts to move, and it's nothing like it was with Russ. Each thrust is controlled, angled perfectly to hit that spot inside me that makes pleasure spike through my body.
He watches my face as he moves inside me, studying my reactions and adjusting his movements based on what makes me moan.
"That's it," he says when I arch beneath him. "Take it. Take all of it."
His hand slides between us, his thumb finding my clit, and the combination is too much. I come with a scream, my body clenching around him, and he follows seconds later with a guttural groan.
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard. When he finally pulls out, I feel boneless, completely satisfied.
"Bathroom's down the hall," he says, helping me sit up. "Take your time."
I clean up and get dressed, my body still humming with pleasure. When I emerge, Alex is already dressed, looking as composed as if we didn’t just havee mind-blowing sex on his couch.
"I'll walk you down," he says, and I don't argue.
In the elevator, I can barely contain my excitement. I can't wait to get home and add this experience to my notes. The contrast between Russ and Alex, the different approaches to intimacy, and the way each man made me feel. My book is going to be so much richer for this.
The elevator doors open to the lobby, and I step out, already thinking about the drive home. But then I freeze.
Across the lobby, the main doors are opening. And walking through them, flanked by two men with obvious weapons beneath their jackets, is Russ.