“Or maybe not,” she murmured a moment later.
She sank down on her knees and swung around to look up at me. Her head was level with my crotch. Sweat sheened my brow and my lips parted to catch my tongue between my teeth.
“Maybe you’re not looking in the right place,” she purred.
I bit back a curse and grabbed at the nearest shelf as Abby raised herself back on her feet. She slid upward between me and the books, her breasts ever-so-slightly grazing my chest. The muscles in my arm stood out like strands of thick rope as she beat me at my own game.
My gaze locked on hers and the stark need in her stare pulled me back from the edge, giving me back the control she’d so easily stripped from me. I leaned forward until our lips were millimeters apart and my body followed, crowding her up against the shelves. I was too scared to breathe, my control stretched to breaking point.
Abby pressed herself closer and tilted her mouth upward in silent invitation.
I swayed toward her. Then stopped. All I had to do was get over the next hurdle and sweet victory was mine. Drawing down to the darkest depths of my self-control, I barely held myself back from fucking her mouth with my tongue.
“Not here.” My lips brushed against hers as I breathed out the words.
“Where?” Her voice was a sultry whisper, a silken caress on my skin. I couldn’t help flexing my hips against her. My cock pushed into her belly as my chest rested against the soft fullness of her breasts. She was such a sweet temptation. It was only the knowledge that she’d soon be mine that kept me in check.
“Six o’clock. I’ll come get you.” One last thrust and I ripped myself away while I still could.
Chapter Twenty-One
Abby
I waited for the door to close before slithering into a puddle on the floor.
What had I gotten myself into? And why wasn’t I more worried about it? I examined my feelings about the most recent turn of events. Anxiety…panic…abject terror? Nope. Surprisingly, the only emotions on my radar were lust and excitement. I almost laughed out loud. Marcus had just handed me the key to getting involved for more than one night.
It was a game. Just a game. And games weren’t real, meaning I could compartmentalize everything I felt and treat it like it was no more than a tennis match. I was good at that. Okay, it was a Grand Slam Open tournament and I’d pitted myself against a master, but it was still just a game. I could get through this. Enjoy it. And walk away. There were no feelings involved, no other outcome than playing hard and winning.
All I had to do now was get through to six o’clock.
Marcus didn’t make it easy on me and I hadn’t expected him to. He did his damnedest to stay in my sight all afternoon, but out of reach. Just tantalizing glimpses that turned the tingle of expectation into a dull roar of unfulfilled hunger.
“This has been the most fun ever.” Cole dropped by late in the afternoon to say goodbye. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. I’ve never seen Marcus so unstitched.”
“Oh, and you had nothing to do with pushing him?” I stared him down with a sardonic look.
“I do what I must.”
I assured Cole there was a special place in Hell for people like him.
It was pathetic how desperate I was to see Marcus by the time he finally did show up at my door. He leaned lazily against the door frame, coming no further than the threshold. I let my gaze sweep him slowly, devouring every lovely spare inch of him. I fixed on the bulge in his pants that even excellent tailoring couldn’t hide, my pulse tripping into double time.
“Food first?” he queried, looking for all the world like he had nothing better to do than grab a bite to eat.
Food was the last thing on my mind. But I nodded, knowing it would drive him just as crazy if I played along. Marcus smiled and extended his hand. I took it and he curled his fingers around mine before leading me upstairs.
“I have a small apartment I hang out in,” he explained, opening a door at the top of the landing on the second floor. “The rest of the house is for show. But this…this is mine.”
Lust took a momentary back seat to curiosity as I glanced around Marcus’s inner sanctum. The apartment was just like any normal, modern living space—apart from the fact it sat smack-bang in the middle of a majestic old mansion. Comfy leather couches, books stacked untidily on the coffee table…the room looked much lived in, evidence Marcus spent most of his time here. French doors led to a small patio where steps zigzagged down to the lawn and the wide, lazy river.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Marcus said. He moved to the kitchen and opened the fridge.
I stared for a moment, not quite believing he was going through with his threat of dinner. So this was how it was going to be, was it?
I snorted. I’d come here for one thing, and that was the only thing I expected Marcus to deliver on tonight. A smile creased my lips.
Time to do exactly as he had suggested and make myself comfortable.
I fixed Marcus with a polite smile and took off my jacket to lay it across the arm of the sofa. I sat, sliding my hands down my calves to unbuckle my shoes. I slipped them off.
Marcus threw furtive glances my way, but whenever I looked up, he seemed content enough to keep chopping carrots. I stood and raised my arms in a stretch, lifting myself onto the balls of my feet. When I was fairly confident I had his full attention, I began unbuttoning my shirt. Slowly. It slid easily off one shoulder, then the other, to join my jacket.
I tapped my finger against my lips. Hmm, skirt or bra next? He did seem to like my skirt rucked up around my hips, but as I didn’t have my fuck-me shoes on the end result wouldn’t be nearly as effective. Shrugging, I eased the zip open on my skirt and let it slither down my legs.
“Ow. Shit.”
I glanced up. Marcus sucked his finger into his mouth. He waved me on with his other hand.
“Just a nick. Keep…ah…going.”
Hiding my smile, I stepped out of the skirt and put it with the rest of my clothes. I wandered casually over to the counter opposite Marcus.
“Do you need a hand?” I asked, unclasping my bra as I spoke.
My breasts came free of the cups and I let the straps slide down my arms, toying with the material as it slithered past my fingertips. Cool air hit my nipples and they puckered into taut points.
Marcus cleared his throat. “It looks like it’s you who could use some help.” He put his knife down to come around the counter.
“No, no.” I backed away and put up my hands. “You’re obviously busy. I can take care of myself.”
My words stopped Marcus. His eyes flicked over me as if trying to divine my meaning. Slowly he retreated and picked up the knife again.
“Are you sure you want to be handling that?” I teased. I let my hands skim from my hips up my torso and paused for a moment to squeeze my breasts together. Then I hooked my fingers in the side of my panties and drew them down. I turned sideways, bending to pick them up, the tug on my breasts a delicious weight as they swung free. I added the last of my underwear to the growing pile of clothes.
Marcus put the knife down carefully, giving up all pretense of doing anything except watching me. His gaze brushed my face, my breasts, travelling down my legs from hip to toe. I could feel every inch of skin that his eyes lit on, my body hot and eager, tingling with awareness under his appreciative stare.
My legs trembled and I sat, choosing the armchair opposite where Marcus stood. Cool leather hit my fevered skin and I wriggled, enjoying the conflicting sensations of hot and cold. I leaned back into the seat. My legs were restricted by the arms of the chair, but I opened them as much as I could, at the same time cupping my breasts and pushing them together. Grazing my thumbs across the tops of my nipples, I moaned, closing my eyes as my belly tightened. Over my own heavy breathing, I heard Marcus rasp out my name.
While I alternated between each breast, pinching and rolling my aching nubs, my other hand inched down my belly and eas
ed between my legs. I was wet, my fingers skating between my lips to draw moisture up and over my clitoris. The little mound of nerves was swollen and ready and I fought against the urge to pet it more.
“Put your leg over the arm,” Marcus growled roughly. He gripped the bench as if he was scared to let go.
I did as he asked, hooking my right leg over the chair arm and widening my position. Marcus’s eyes flared and he leaned forward to fasten his gaze on my glistening pussy. I drew some of the creamy liquid onto my fingertip and painted it across one nipple. Then the other.
Distracted for a moment by the pleasure, I paused to roll the slippery buds between my fingertips. Then the throb of my clit grabbed my attention again and I delved back through the curls, seeking relief. Back arching, I pressed two fingers into myself as I pushed my hips forward.
“Argh. This. Feels. Good.” I closed my eyes, my head rolling back against the chair. I was already close, the heat of his gaze adding to the rush of exquisite sensations.
“No. Open your eyes.” I cracked my lids to find Marcus moving against the counter, his hands still caught in a death-grip on the bench top. “Finish it,” he hissed.
I didn’t need any further encouragement. Pressing against my clit, I moved my hand in small circles, while playing my fingers over the sensitive opening of my sex. My hips bucked, sweat beading on my brow as pressure built, licking at my skin, contracting my muscles.
“Faster.”
I followed Marcus’s gruff orders, every nerve ending on alert, my body coiling in on itself as I writhed against the leather. My breath stuttered, caught between low, hard pants and a deep guttural moan that seemed to rise from the bottom of my stomach.
“I’m going to…come.” The last word left my mouth as a shout, my sheath tightening around my fingers as I pressed hard against my spasming clit. I rode out the orgasm, ripple after ripple of luscious pleasure, until I fell back limply.
The itch was momentarily soothed, but the deep ache inside me was far from satisfied. Marcus looked pained, the outline of his muscles standing out under his shirt. I stood and stretched, loose limbed and ready for more.
“Let me help you,” I said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Abby
As soon as I stepped within reach, Marcus caught me in his arms. His mouth ground down on mine, hands skating over my naked body as though he didn’t know where to touch me first.
Desire blossomed to life again. I reacted to Marcus like a match igniting, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing against him. His kiss was a stormy invasion, lips and teeth clashing, and a growl reverberated up through his chest as his hands cemented me to him.
“Let me take care of you,” I said, when he allowed me up for air. I unbuckled his pants and wriggled from his grip to slide to my knees. The scent of his need hit my senses and my mouth watered. The tip of his cock glistened with precome. Hungrily, I licked around it to suck him into my mouth.
“Fffuuuccckkkk.”
Marcus’s hands fisted in my hair. I curled one hand around his girth and guided him past my lips, taking him halfway before sliding back again. Another luscious lick around the bulb, then I dug my fingers into his ass, encouraging him to fuck my mouth.
His movements stuttered for a moment before he found his pace. His hips drove forward and back, pushing in and out of my lips, his cock hitting the back of my throat. The sweet, salty taste of him filled me and I urged him on, my fingers clawing at his buttocks, pushing him into me harder and faster. I fondled his balls, gently cupping and pulling the tissue-soft skin as his cock thickened, impossibly hard.
His grip in my hair tightened and Marcus pulled my head back, his movements slowing as I rolled my eyes up to look up at him. His face was flushed with pleasure, mouth falling open, breath slewing past his lips.
“Ahhh. Abby. I’m…”
His hips thrust erratically. Out of sync. Out of control. I flattened my tongue to suction up his length as my hand pumped faster. With a roar, Marcus lurched forward and let go, filling the back of my throat with hot jets of come. His hand convulsed in my hair—then, as if he realized he might be hurting me, he loosened his hold to stroke the curls back around my ears.
Marcus lifted me to my feet and rested his head on my shoulder. His body was soft with satisfaction as he kissed along my collarbone, working his way up my neck, along my jawline to finally find my mouth. I shuddered, surrendering to the sweetness. The kiss became fierce, fire once more licking the air between us.
Marcus pulled back. “Your turn again.”
He didn’t wait for my answer, sweeping aside the half-chopped vegetables and lifting me onto the bench. My ass hit the cold marble and I let out a gasp. Marcus ignored my protest, too busy running his hands up the insides of my thighs, spreading my legs. I hooked them over his shoulders as he sank to his knees.
“Perfect,” he rumbled as his mouth came forward to taste me.
As with everything he did, Marcus left no inch of me untouched by his lips, his tongue, his fingers. He’d forgotten nothing. Lingering at the sensitive crease in my hips, he laid long lavish licks along my pussy, before sliding two fingers inside me as he sucked at my clit.
I writhed on the counter, my heels digging into Marcus’s back while my hands twisted in the soft tufts of his hair. My body was thrown into exquisite chaos and he kept me right on the edge of tipping into perfect ecstasy. By the time I exploded into my second orgasm, there was nothing left of the tension between us—and nothing left on the bench but a few bruised lettuce leaves. The rest had landed in the sink to clog up the waste disposal.
Marcus helped me down from the counter. “I can give you so much more.” He smacked his lips with satisfaction as I wobbled on my feet. “Just say the word and you can have all of me as often as you like.”
I grimaced at his not so subtle reminder of the game. In the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten about it. Which was dangerous. And stupid.
“Are you saying you’re ready to give up on your ridiculous conditions? That sex is more than enough between us?” I came back at him quickly.
“Never.” Marcus shook his head, looking slightly less smug. “That was just the appetizer. So, how about a truce over a couple of steak sandwiches?” he suggested, waggling his brows. “I have a feeling we’ll need the energy boost.”
He was right. Damn it. I thought that last orgasm might have done the trick, but already my heartbeat quickened just from watching Marcus bend to grab the steaks from the fridge. He stepped out of his pants and I caught glimpses of his tight, tanned butt beneath his shirt. Yummy. I stepped behind him to brush against his back.
Why couldn’t I stop touching him? Trailing my fingers across the tops of his thighs, I plucked at the bottom of his shirt.
“It hardly seems fair you’ve got clothes on while I’m completely naked,” I grumbled.
Marcus turned and spread his arms wide, his hands loaded with meat and bread. He smirked. “I kind of have my hands full.”
I grinned. “Here, let me.”
I undid his buttons one by one, exploring every fresh inch of flesh as it was revealed. First with my fingers. Then with my mouth. As the material split farther apart, I lapped at his nipples, reaching down to cup his balls.
Bread and steak hit the floor simultaneously and the next moment Marcus’s hands were on my breasts, lightly kneading, plucking a harmonious tune over my nipples. Frissons of pleasure shot through my belly, coiling low. I wrenched the last of his buttons loose and yanked the shirt off his shoulders so it gathered around the cuffs.
“This isn’t going to work.” Marcus proffered up a wrist for me to undo the buttons.
I shook my head, my eyes already latched on his swollen cock. I fisted it, running my thumb across the tip of his head. He growled, scrabbling at his cuff. I kept up the pressure, lightly massaging his tightening balls, while stroking and caressing his rapidly growing shaft.
“Fuck, Abby. Stop,” Marcus cried out, but
his hips kept moving to the feverish rhythm I’d set.
I trembled, the force building low in my belly even though he wasn’t laying a finger on me. The power he gave me, watching his uncontrolled reaction to my touch was enough to send me into a spin. I bit my lip. Trying to maintain a tempo fast enough to keep him off balance.
“Argh.”
A tearing sound and all of a sudden Marcus’s hands were free, the shirt rent apart and hanging off one arm. I caught his fiery look. Then he found me, pushing one finger into my wet, aching core. With a groan, I widened my legs, riding his hand, stroking him faster. Two fingers scissored inside me, hitting my sweet spot while he massaged my clit.
My legs shook, flickering sensations trembling over me, each one more powerful than the last. I reached out to steady myself, hitting a rigid wall of muscled chest. I curled my fingers, my eyes darting downwards to catch the erotic scene of Marcus’s hand buried between my thighs, while I pumped his cock in and out of my fist. My eyes locked on his. Whatever I’d felt previously increased tenfold as our stare detonated a sensory explosion. Limbs locked and gasping for air, we came together, hard and fast.
This time, it took us longer to catch our breath. Marcus stumbled as he warily moved out of my reach.
“At least we still have the steaks.” I ducked from his gaze to pick up the cling-wrapped pack from the floor.
“Yes, although if you really want to eat, it might help if you get out of the kitchen. Away from me.” Marcus nudged me out from behind the counter.
I reached back to hook my arms around his neck, twisting to press my mouth against his. He pushed his tongue between my lips and rewarded me with a long, drugging kiss. When my stomach rumbled, he reluctantly slipped out of my hold.
His Rules (One Night Stand Series Book 1) Page 9