Chapter 6
Carissa
By the time we arrive at Marcus’s place, a gorgeous mansion outside the city, parts of what happened are beginning to sink in. He killed a man. I should call the police. I should run away, screaming, and never look back.
Instead, I let him lead me into his home. Up the stairs to the primary bedroom’s luxury en suite. Marcus turns on the shower that’s large enough to easily fit six grown men. Only then do I catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror.
A startled cry erupts past my lips. I’m covered in blood. It’s in my hair, on my face, and this dress is totally ruined. I look like I belong in that Stephen King movie about a prom night gone wrong.
Marcus spins me away from the mirror and into his chest. He gently strokes my bloody hair. “It’s okay, I’m going to get you cleaned up. Shh. Everything is all right, tesoro mio. Let me take care of you.”
I nod. My entire body quakes as I cling to him.
He’s a killer.
Yes, but he saved me.
My internal struggle continues as he eases off my high heels, then leads me into the shower fully dressed. Steaming water pelts my skin, and I revel in the sensation. The water at my feet runs red as it swirls down the drain.
Marcus, also clothed except for his loafers, joins me under the spray. We stand there for several minutes, until the water turns a faded pink. My shaking gradually subsides.
Without a word, Marcus picks up the shampoo and massages a handful into my hair. He works it to a lather as I watch him through my lashes. His strong fingers feel so good against my scalp, I moan.
His dark gaze drops to my lips. He leans forward, only far enough for it to be an invitation instead of a demand. I close the distance between us, rising onto my toes to reach his lips with mine.
As soon as we touch, it’s like a detonation.
I close my eyes as suds run down my face.
Our frenzied hands grasp at each other, removing clothes, caressing flesh, and holding each other closer.
Marcus only breaks away for a moment to rinse my hair, then his hot mouth finds my neck and he sucks down on my sensitive skin.
I cry out as his fingers dip between my thighs and circles my clit. I’m so wet he easily slips between my folds. Pushing two fingers into my needy pussy, he teases my clit with his thumb.
I moan. My hand wraps around his erection and he hisses. He feels good, long and thick, just enough to feel the stretch. And suddenly I want him in me more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“Please,” I whimper, stroking his cock.
“You have to come for me first.” He drops to his knees and buries his face between my legs. As soon as his mouth closes around my clit and sucks, I shatter.
Then he’s lifting me, and my legs wrap around his hips as he presses my back to the cool tiled wall. In one smooth thrust his cock sinks into my pussy. We both groan in pleasure.
“You feel so good, tesoro,” he murmurs as he captures my lips again.
I cling to him as he… makes love to me. This isn’t fucking. He’s unhurried, pumping his hips in deep, languid thrusts. The angle’s just right to repeatedly hit my G-spot and pressure coils low in my stomach. My nipples graze the hard plains of his chest.
We kiss as our previous frantic energy morphs into the most intense sexual experience of my life. My hips roll as I ride his cock. Our gazes clash, and I swear he sees straight through to my lonely soul. As I see his. We’re like kindred spirits.
As the pressure builds, I dig my nails into his broad shoulders. He dips his head and teases one of my nipples with his tongue. The sensation zaps straight to my clit.
When it peaks, he gives a satisfied rumble, before doing the same to the other one. Back and forth, he torments me, until I’m writhing against him.
Only then does he reach between us and touch my clit in agonizingly slow circles. My orgasm builds and expands, ever reaching for the precipice.
“More,” I beg, hardly recognizing myself. I’ve never dreamed of being this sexually adventurous, not to mention verbal about what I want. Somehow, Marcus brings that out in me.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he rumbles. Then he drives into me with enough force to make my toes curl. Again and again, until my eyes roll back in my head and I gasp.
“Oh my god, Mar—”
He slams his mouth to mine, cutting off my words. I scream. Waves of ecstasy crash through my body, leaving me a trembling, sobbing mess in Marcus’s arms.
He groans, low and primal, as he finds his own release. It’s only when his cum drips down my thighs do I realize we didn’t use protection. I break out into a cold sweat.
He immediately notices the shift in energy. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I’m not on birth control.” That’s perhaps the least of our worries. I’m clean, but what about this man?
Marcus glances between us as he slowly pulls out, leaking more cum. His brows pinch. He swallows hard.
Those reactions do nothing to ease my growing panic.
“Are you clean? Have you been tested?” My pitch grows higher with each word, until I’m practically squeaking.
His dark gaze pins mine. “I’m fine. Clean. It’s just…”
“What?” My stomach lurches.
“It’s just that I always wear a condom. Always.”
We stare at each other for several pounding heartbeats. What is he trying to say? I drove him so wild with lust that he forgot? That it slipped his mind?
Not like you thought about contraceptives either, Miss I-don’t-want-kids.