The Cowboy's City Girl - An Enemies To Lovers Romance

by Emerson Rose

  A soft crack of his joints as he kneels again behind me catapults my heart into my throat. The things this man can do with no more than a graze of his fingers and a hot breath… his hands are on my ass again; he slides them down until he spreads my folds open with his thumbs.

  My God, I want him to go faster, to touch more of me, to taste all of me.

  “Please...,” I whimper and he obliges with much more than I anticipated.

  Marcus’s tongue runs along one side of my sensitive folds and then the other. I grasp the comforter with both hands above my head and try like hell to relax, but it’s instinctual to clamp down around him.

  “You taste so sweet, and you smell like cotton candy. It seems appropriate since I have always had a sweet tooth where you are concerned. I’ll never get enough of you, my Imani.” And with those words he’s there, mouth covering me, teasing my clit, lapping every drop of my essence, circling and moving until I’m writhing over him, panting and moaning with abandon, nearing the explosion he is coaxing from my body so skillfully.

  With lust, his hands join in the attempt to drive me insane and he circles my clit with two fingers and raises up further so his tongue is no longer torturing me in its usual place but a forbidden area that we have never explored.

  He pauses right below where he wants to be as if asking permission and, without a thought, I press back against his mouth and he gives my ass the exact same treatment he just gave to my hot core. I can’t hold back; I yell out in ecstasy. I come with a scream, balling up the comforter around my head to muffle out the sound.

  After rolling my eyes under the purple silk back into my head so hard it hurts, I ride out the waves of pleasure like a surfer trying to get that last bit out of a monster wave, making it last until the surfboard slides onto the sand of the beach.

  “Oh my...,” I can’t even finish the exclamation. I’m on sensory overload and every single nerve ending is hypersensitive.

  “You are exquisite, lady. I could kneel here all night looking at you.” And I’d sure as hell let him! But of course, he doesn’t. He stands and pauses before laying his body over mine in the same position.

  I can feel the throbbing solid length of him pressing against my bottom and he buries his face in my hair, sliding his hands up my arms and encouraging my fingers to release the bedding.

  When I have, he begins kissing a path from the nape of my neck down to the small of my back and back up until I’ve relaxed.

  “Turn over,” he commands, lifting off of me just enough so I can squirm onto my back under him. I wrap my legs around his waist, locking my ankles. He slips my bra off and places it next to us. Lacing his fingers through mine he presses my arms against the mattress but doesn’t let go of my hands. The tip of his cock is poised at my entrance and it would take only an infinitesimal movement to bring us together, but I wait.

  Waiting for Marcus brings so much more pleasure than rushing, a lesson he literally pounded into me before I understood and submitted.

  When he’s ready, he slides into me with no effort. I’m soaked when he enters me balls deep, and I gasp. Everything is more sensitive after he made me come with his mouth.

  “Fuck, Imani… you are my perfection, nothing I’ve ever possessed is more satisfying than you are. I need to give it all to you, everything I own, every emotion, every moment of time, everything…”

  Thrust after thrust, those words repeat over and over in my mind and we begin to match the music with our rhythm.

  Squeezing my legs around him in anticipation of orgasm number two, he covers my mouth with his. He takes my breath, breathing my heart and soul into him every time we gasp for air. I know two people could never be closer or more connected than we are on every plane, every level. His release and mine crash together simultaneously as I bite down on his shoulder and he roars in pleasure and pain.

  Taking one of my senses heightened every experience for me by forcing the others to focus. I know now what Marcus meant when he once said that he could die a happy man at that moment because I feel the exact same way right now.

  Fifty-Nine

  Waking in Marcus’s arms is an addictive experience that I’ll never get enough of. Drawn in tight, my back to his front, we have both slept hard through the night, something neither of us is accustomed to doing.

  I blink a few times trying to focus. I’m still a little discombobulated when I wake up. I’ve gone from sleeping in my own apartment for ten years to Marcus’s Seattle home back to my childhood home, Marcus’s Aunt Angelica’s home, and now yet another mansion of Marcus’s in Italy.

  I stare out the window that faces the lake and find a light snow falling outside. How many days until Christmas? I count in my head. Shit, it’s only ten days away? Can that be right? I repeat the count and realize that, yes indeed, I only have ten days to figure out gifts for my family and friends and Marcus.

  Good Lord, is there anything you can even give a man like him? I’ll have to be very creative and sneaky, now that he has his sight back he’s not going to miss a thing, as if he ever did.

  I toss around gift ideas for a while and develop a plan to order Christmas online and have the gifts shipped to the States. Marcus’s breathing is steady and I assume he’s sleeping. I want to call Dr. Carlson and see how soon he will be arriving but leaving the warmth of Marcus’s embrace is impossible.

  First, because who would want to, and second, because he’s incredibly solid and I can’t lift the leg he has wrapped around mine.

  “Your gears are really turning this morning.” I jerk at his unexpected words.

  “You’re awake?”

  “Mmhm. I’ve been watching the snow with you for five minutes.” How did I miss that? His body gave no indications that he was awake.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “You mean you don’t already know? Usually it’s you who tells me what I’m thinking, sometimes before I realize myself.”

  “Well, I have an idea but I thought you might want to tell me yourself.”

  “Gee, thanks. So, what’s your theory? I’m intrigued.”

  “We’re watching it snow, thousands of miles from home with no definite return plans. You’re missing your family and friends. It’s almost Christmas so that’s on your mind.

  And, finally, I’d say you are figuring out how you’re going to get gifts dispersed to them before the holidays. How did I do?”

  I roll my eyes and twist in his arms to face him. His beauty stuns me, even after all this time he’s still majestic, beautiful. God must have been in a special mood the day he created Marcus.

  “You’re too much.” He kisses me on the nose.

  “But I’m right, aren’t I?”

  I wrinkle my brow and admit, “Yes, yes, you are.”

  “So, online shopping today?”

  I bury my face in his chest and he draws me in closer.

  “Yes, if I ever get out of this bed.”

  “Not happening anytime soon, baby.”

  “So, what are your plans for today?”

  “To stay right here and make love to you as long as you can tolerate it, and then an hour or two longer. Maybe we get a bite to eat, a bath with you and then back to bed. What do you think?” “Sounds like heaven.” And, with a moan, he’s on top of me and he starts our day off with a bang, making love.

  We snack in bed, soak in the tub and then, you guessed it, back to bed. I could get used to this. It’s always when things seem too good to be true that I get smacked across the face with a big fat dose of reality, so I have never completely allowed myself to be happy.

  The snow stopped falling, there’s more than I’d expected and I have the urge to go outside in it. Even snuggled in the warm cocoon of love and sex, I feel an unexplainable urge to throw a snowball at Marcus. The visual of that makes me smile.

  I’m sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed with the soft blue sheet over my shoulders. I know Elijah and Mr. Black have seen me from more angles than I’ve
ever seen myself courtesy of the security cameras, but I try to get lost in the moment when Marcus and I are intimate so I don’t feel their eyes on us.

  Just sitting here talking I feel more vulnerable than I do when we’re having sex.

  “Why do you love purple so much, and why is this room blue?” I’ve been wondering about the purple forever but never posed it as a question. Marcus leans against the headboard, fingers laced behind his neck with his ankles crossed.

  “I told you it represents royalty, remember?”

  “No, I mean the real reason, I know there’s more to it than that, and nobody chooses one color so often without a special reason.”

  “So, now you can look into my mind as well?”

  “Yes, I can.” I nod my head once curtly and cross my arms over my breasts.

  “Chilly?”

  “No… just… I…”

  “The cameras?”

  “Yeah, I know they’re watching us. It’s weird. Now out with it, purple, what’s up with that?”

  He sighs, “Okay, it’s not that big a deal, really. My Aunt Angelica wasn’t always blind. She lost her sight when she was fourteen and her favorite color was purple. She often asked me to describe it to her, and she always wanted to know what color something was, especially if it were purple.

  I described it so many times that it became my favorite color. She told me fairy tales and described the royal’s clothing; they were always purple. So, there’s the mystery of my favorite color. Not so exciting, is it?”

  “It is to me, but what about this room. There’s no purple in here.”

  “I didn’t decorate this room.”

  “Who did?”

  “Megan. She got sick of purple. I allowed her to change this room a few years ago.”

  That was not the answer I was expecting and also not something I want to know, but I asked.

  Sensing the tension, he removes his hands and extends one to me, I rise to my knees, taking the sheet with me. I crawl to him and straddle his hips. “Open the sheet.” Something about this man’s bossiness turns me into a compliant submissive puddle of obedience. I open the sheet and he takes the two corners from my hands, pulling it over our heads.

  I giggle and he smiles the warmest of smiles. All tension dissipates as he presses his lips gently on my mouth. My lips are swollen, partially from the vicious bite I received from him yesterday and partially from the hours of making love today.

  Remnants of the two sides of the man that I try unsuccessfully to figure out each day we are together.

  “I want to do something,” he says quietly, as he tangles my hair in his fingers and backs away from my face enough to look me in the eyes.

  Oh, those eyes. Under the blue sheet, his sharp green eyes take on the color of the deepest part of the ocean and I’m willing to agree to anything he asks of me.

  “Okay, like what?”

  “You trust me, yes?” Oh crap, why does he always ask me that? It’s a loaded question, maybe that’s why he keeps asking. “Yes,” I say, with the slightest bit of hesitancy.

  “Don’t be all fidgety about it, Imani. I’m not going to ask anything of you that I don’t think you can handle.” Now what does he mean by that? Handle? As in tolerate?

  “Just trust me, okay?”

  “I said I did. Now what are we going to do?”

  “You don’t have to do anything, except close your eyes and lie down, without the sheet.” I chew on my bottom lip, instinctively hissing when I feel the sharp pain of the bite mark there.

  “Come on.” He bucks his hips up, indicating that it’s time to do whatever it is he’s got planned.

  I lift my bent knee and roll over onto my back with the sheet still around me in one dramatic swoop.

  “No sheet.” Okay, okay, gosh. He better have a plan to keep my mind on something else so I can forget about the prying eyes of my protectors.

  I spread my arms wide, opening the sheet and exposing my body completely. He’s off the bed, opening the night table drawer. Curiosity has me tied in knots. I’m dying to open my eyes. The mattress dips and he straddles me, hovering over me without applying his weight.

  “Keep your eyes closed.”

  “Okay.” I can feel him bend over me and I hear a click, then something tickling my belly.

  “What…”

  “Shush, be still.” I do but it’s hard. I think he’s writing on my skin, and whatever it is, he’s doing it repeatedly on different parts of my body.

  He’s scribbling everywhere: my arms, and legs, even on my breasts. The script feels small, sometimes larger, but always the same swish and scroll.

  I can’t help but giggle when the tip of the pen glides over the skin right below my belly button and in the crook of my arm. Every time I do he shushes me gently but he doesn’t stop.

  He’s even turned me over and is working on my backside. He’s used a lot of ink. I wonder how long the pen will hold out.

  I’m sleepy. If this didn’t tickle so much I’d probably be out. He’s worn me out today, but I love spending intimate time with him, I’ll never complain.

  “Okay.”

  “Are you finished?”

  “Yes, but I want you to wait to open your eyes for a minute.” I groan and wiggle.

  “Marcus, I want to see what you’re doing.”

  “Stay, just wait.” He moves off of the bed and I consider sneaking a peek but somehow he would know, he just would.

  I hear him in the closet opening a drawer. What the hell is he getting? Every time he asks me to close my eyes I think he’s going to do something kinky. Which I wouldn’t necessarily object to, I just don’t know how comfortable I’d be with any of that and I know he’s experienced well beyond what he’s shown me.

  I’m not thinking about that, nope. Think black wall, empty room, or the beach; anything but Marcus with another woman.

  I hear him pad across the room back to the bed where he steps up and walks across the mattress. He stops to stand over me. I can feel his ankles brushing against mine and the contact causes goosebumps to break out over my bare skin.

  Then I hear the click of a camera. He’s taking pictures of me. I flip over onto my back and open my eyes wide. He’s towering over me with an enormous professional grade camera.

  “What the hell, Marcus? I’m naked!”

  “I’m well aware, baby. Now close your eyes and relax. I want some of you on your back just like this.”

  “Marcus, no!” I hold my arms up and look at them. Gasping, I prop up and see my legs and every other inch of me.

  I’m covered in his signature! Marcus Castillo is scrawled across my skin over and over. The signature is small in some places and larger in others.

  He’s claimed me, quite literally. I look up at him with my mouth hanging open not sure what to say.

  “Close your mouth, baby.”

  “Marcus! Why? Why is your name… everywhere?” I lift my arms to show him what he’s done like he doesn’t already know.

  “Because you are mine.”

  “And you couldn’t think of a better way to show that?” “No, I like you covered in my name. I’m taking you out tonight to Dominus for dinner and drinks. I know all too well how my customers gawk and I don’t want anyone’s lustful eyes on you.”

  I think my mouth is hanging open even wider, if that’s possible. He wants me to go out like this? Covered in his signature, so that no one will look at me. Okay, he’s totally lost it, I’m not going anywhere like this.

  “Uh-uh, no way, I can’t go out all marked up like this.”

  “Lay down, Imani. I want to get a few more shots.”

  “What? Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes, you’re yelling. How could I not be listening to you? Lie back and close your eyes. Now.”

  I’m fuming inside, but if it’s pictures he wants, then I want some guarantees.

  “Nobody sees these, right? Like nobody.”

  “Of course not! Why would I show a
nyone nude photographs of you when I’m trying to keep people from looking at you?” He’s got a point.

  “Why do you want the pictures?”

  “Because you’re lovely, and you’re mine, and now you’re covered in proof.”

  I guess as long as they are for his eyes only it won’t hurt. I lie down on my back and shut my eyes while he begins clicking from every angle humanly possible. Then he stops and I hear him blow out a contented sigh.

  “Okay, let’s get dressed. I have a car coming in about an hour.”

  “I’m not going out like this, Marcus,” I say stubbornly.

  “Yes, you are; no one will see it. I’ve got your clothes all ready for you in the closet. All of this will be covered.”

  He is incorrigible. I cannot believe him. Why does he think he can choose my clothes? It occurs to me that we have never been out in public together on an evening date.

  Is he worried that I’ll show too much skin? And so what if I do? It’s my body.

  “So, what’s the purpose of covering me in your name if I’ll be covered in clothing?” I ask, full well knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it.

  “You know why. I just told you. The people at my club have dark tastes. All eyes will be on us because of who I am. They all know I’ve been away for a while and gossip is going to be rampant. I don’t want to share an inch of you with them.”

  “Then why go there?”

  “It’s my first restaurant and club. I want to show off, brag if you will. And I’d like you to see one of the shows in the night club.”

  He places the camera carefully beside him and sits on his knees with his hands on his thighs at my feet. I watch as he bites his lip in a rare moment of insecurity. And then he says that magic word that all mothers pray their child will use in public.

  “Please.” I throw up my arms and buckle under the power of all that is Marcus.

  “Oh, alright,” I say, and as a reward for submitting I’m given the smirk and wink combination that melts my heart.