by Penny Wylder
He doesn’t seem to like to dwell on the conversation of his ex, and I have no problem getting away from it as well. It’s strange, but I feel a twinge of jealousy when thinking about someone he cared enough about to marry, even if the marriage was built on greed and didn’t work. She had him for a time and he’d cared enough to marry her.
When we get off the subject, he turns it toward me, about my life. I boo-hoo about my burned house and how it meant everything to me.
“It’s just a house,” he says when I tell him how much it meant to me. “It can be rebuilt.”
I shake my head. “It would never be the same. It was my first and my parents helped me buy it, so it’s extra special.”
“You’re close with your parents?” He looks confused. He must be wondering why, if my parents cared enough to help me buy a house, then why did he find me living in my car and not staying with them.
“I was, yes.”
“You’re not now?”
“My parents died in a plane crash. They were traveling home from their anniversary trip when the plane they were on had an engine failure.”
The crash happened a few years ago, but it’s still difficult to talk about.
He takes my hand and brushes his thumb against my palm. I look down at our touching hands and a feeling blooms inside of me. It’s a mix of emotions: loneliness, fear, happiness, and desire. I’ve felt alone for so long, and I’m so sick of feeling that way.
Though I know I’ll regret it later, I pull his hand toward me and kiss his knuckles. He takes in a sharp breath and allows me to keep kissing his hand. I wonder if the same war is waging in his head that is going through mine, that we shouldn’t be doing this, that it could wreck everything. If he does think so, he’s not trying to stop me.
When I stop to look up at him, at his reaction, he takes me by the hands, pulling me to him. The bowl of popcorn falls to the ground and scatters, but he doesn’t give it a second glance. Bitters, on the other hand, sees an opportunity for a snack and pounces on it.
All of Marcus’s attention is focused on me. My arms wrap around his shoulders, legs around his waist. It’s an awkward tangle of limbs at first until he stands and carries me into his room.
Laying me on his bed, our lips crash together, warm tongues colliding. God, his body feels good against mine, all hard muscle and sinew. I need to get these clothes off of him to see if he looks as good without them. I unbutton his shirt, fingers fumbling with excitement. He helps me with the last two buttons when I’m not working fast enough. When his shirt peels back, revealing a smooth, hairless chest rippled with muscles, it’s better than I could imagine. He’s a work of art. I stare at him in awe, my fingers tracing the ropes of muscles going up his arms. How is he so perfect? He looks as though he’s never consumed a carb in his life. I know that’s not the case because he was scarfing down popcorn just a minute ago.
He hurries to take my clothes off. Things go much easier for him, seeing as I’m only wearing a t-shirt and boxers with nothing underneath. As soon as my shirt comes off, he makes a sound of approval and he looks at me with the same rapt amazement I looked at him with. Could he be admiring me in the same way? I’ve always been told I have a great body, but some men have felt I was too curvy for their taste, my breasts too large, my hips too wide. I’m built more like a Kim than a Kendall.
“You’re perfection,” he says on a loose breath.
My face flushes and my nipples harden the longer his gaze sweeps over my chest. He traces a finger along the under swell of my breast. When he grazes my nipple with his finger, a shudder rolls through me, raising goosebumps.
“So are you,” I say.
He leans in, his warm breath on my cheek. He smells my neck and runs a finger down my bare shoulder. My throat goes dry. I can barely swallow. My body tingles and my wetness pools between my legs, soaking the boxers he has yet to take off of me. The desire to be touched becomes a desperate need, and if he’s not careful, I’m going to attack him.
“I want you,” he says. His skin is cool as he brushes the hair off of my neck, sending chills down my spine. Despite the chill, there’s an inferno raging between my legs. “We shouldn’t do this, but I want you so much I don’t think I have the power to stop myself.” He rubs my goosebumped arms. My whole body tenses up. “Tell me to stop. Please. I’ll do whatever you want.”
He’s practically begging me to tell him no.
I’m panting as my mind runs the gamut of all the reasons I should tell him no. When I open my mouth to say the words, nothing comes out. Though I know stopping now would be the right thing to do, it feels wrong. I want him. I need him.
I shake my head. “No. Don’t stop.”
The words have barely left my mouth when his lips crash into mine and we fall back into a hurricane-force of a kiss. His hands slip beneath the waistband of the boxers and he slides them down my legs and off of me. There’s more work for me than an elastic band. I take off his belt, contend with a button and zipper, and then I come to his boxers which I struggle to get off. It’s a struggle to get the elastic over his hardness. It’s stretched to its limit. When I finally do manage it, seeing him fully naked is worth all the effort it took. He has the most glorious cock I’ve ever seen. Long and thick with a glimmering head. If I wasn’t sure I turned him on before, I’m sure of it now. There’s no denying his attraction, and there’s no denying my own by the way I drip onto his sheets.
Seeing that proud cock in front of me in all its glorious hardness, I’m unable to keep my hands to myself. My fingers wrap around him. He closes his eyes and rocks his hips slowly.
While I stroke him, he starts to kiss me again. His soft lips barely brush against mine. It’s a sensual kiss at first. The tips of his fingers touch my face, rub my ear lobes, run through my hair. He puts his thumb on my chin and gives it a little tug so that I open my mouth. Then his tongue slips in and glides against mine, tangling together again. He sucks my tongue into his mouth and bites my bottom lip.
I moan into his open mouth while his hand moves down to my inner thigh. He doesn’t touch the ache between my legs that needs relief. I buck by hips, prompting him to move farther toward my center. I kiss his teeth when he smiles at my eagerness.
“You’re driving me crazy,” I tell him.
“Good things come to those who wait,” he says playfully.
I’m not good at waiting. I desperately want his hands all over me.
His lips touch my neck, covering it in soft, yet eager kisses. He moves down my body, covering my breasts, taking my nipples between his teeth. A loud moan parts my lips. The feeling of his teeth against my soft flesh sends an electric shock to my center, arousing me to a point of near hysteria.
He pushes my legs open, exposing me. The air tickles my shaved pussy.
“You’re so wet,” he says. I spread my legs further, using my empty hand to spread myself so he gets a better look at what he’s missing by not touching me. He lets out a deep groan and grabs my hand with his cock in it and forces me to squeeze hard on the shaft. “That little clit looks appetizing.”
He stares as if he’s in a trance, his hand moving closer to the junction between my legs until I’m whimpering and begging him to touch me.
“Please,” I plead with him. “I need it.”
He gives me a taunting smile and touches everything but that tender spot.
Finally, he touches the outer folds of my pussy, and even though it’s not the exact spot I want him to touch, any touch right now feels amazing. Every nerve between my legs feels raw and exposed. I jerk at the slightest touch. He runs a finger down my wet slit and I imagine that’s what nirvana is like.
My juices gleam and drip from his fingertips when he puts them in his mouth and licks them clean. He smells his fingers when he’s done and lets out a guttural sound as he starts to rock faster. I’m stroking him at a good pace now, loving the way he fits in my palm. He then moves his hand back between my legs and plunges his finger deep insid
e of me.
I let out a long, loud moan, raising my hips to push him deeper into me. He pulls out briefly to massage my outer folds, then pinches my clit, tugging and rolling it between his fingers. My moans get louder and I have to bite down on my lip to keep quiet. I know we’re alone in his high-rise, but I don’t want the neighbors to hear.
He adds another finger, and then another. This time I can’t help the scream that bursts from me. Three fingers blast me at a furious pace, and I’m writhing on the bed as he stretches me. He finds an incredible rhythm that nearly sends me over the edge. I’m so close to an orgasm, but somehow I manage to keep it under control. I don’t want to come yet. I want this sensation to build up until I can’t take it anymore.
My pussy is drenched and his fingers easily glide in and out of my silky entrance. His expert touch pushes me into a lightheaded euphoric state of wonder. My knees shake as my g-spot is stroked in an even rhythm. Not fast enough to make me come just yet, but keeping me right on the verge.
Marcus kneels between my legs, keeping his fingers moving as he wraps his hot mouth onto my hard clit. I thought it couldn’t get any better than his fingers inside of me, but I was so wrong. He goes back and forth, replacing his fingers with his tongue, focusing completely on my pleasure.
“Your pussy tastes so sweet,” he says before using the tip of his tongue to swirl my clit. His words send a shiver through me.
His tongue moves slowly and softly at first, then fast and furious, then back to slow. It’s a constant rollercoaster ride of pleasure. Just when he gets me to a point where I’m afraid there’s no going back, he slows down and my orgasm subsides like a patient beast slinking back into the shadows, waiting for the next opportunity.
“I want your cock in my mouth,” I tell him. It’s more of a command than a suggestion.
The side of his mouth quirks up, and he crawls up from between my legs, lips shimmering in the dim light with my juices. He kneels in front of me and I have to stretch my mouth wide to fit him in, making sure to relax my throat so I don’t gag on him. Either way, it’s going to be hard not to.
I like the feeling of him in my mouth, the look on his face while he’s there. His eyes look heavy, dreamy. There’s a strangled sound in his throat as I work the underside of his cock with my tongue.
He holds the back of my head, pushing his cock deeper down my throat. “God, your mouth feels amazing,” he says. The lust-filled look on his face is so fucking sexy I almost come then and there without him even touching me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says. His eyes close and he looks like he’s trying really hard not to lose himself to my mouth. “I wanted you from moment you ran into me.”
His words stun me for a moment. It’s a good thing he’s the one thrusting forward, or I might’ve stopped. He wanted me from the moment I ran into him? Before he knew I was his employee? My mind starts to move a million miles an hour. Nagging questions flare up. Did he want this all along? Here I was, thinking that being with him was just a fluke, and he only picked me to pretend to be his wife because I was desperate after losing my house. Was there more to it? Did he pick me because he was attracted to me?
He reaches down and starts rubbing my clit again and all thoughts evaporate instantly. Nothing enters my head except what is happening here and now.
He starts to fuck my face fast. “Damn, you’re good at that.”
He pulls out long enough for me to catch my breath. A bead of pre-cum on the smooth head glistens in the dim lights. I lick it off with the tip of my tongue and suck his cock back into my mouth.
“Wait, wait,” he says, panting, then pulls out of my mouth. “I was about to come.”
He kisses my now empty mouth, then moves down to my breasts and sucks a nipple into his mouth. Once he gives the other a little attention, he kisses his way up my chest and to my mouth again. He breaks the kiss and looks me in the eyes. The look he gives me is so sweet and gentle and loving that I feel a tightness in my chest.
He kisses me long and deep. I can taste myself on his lips and on his perfect tongue. He then positions himself on top of me, reaches between his legs, grabs his thick cock and guides himself into me.
I moan into his open mouth and run my fingers down the hard plains of his back as he slowly goes deeper. He stares into my eyes the entire time, his smile sending a shiver through me.
He starts a steady rhythm, then picks up speed. He knows exactly how to move his hips, how to make me feel every inch of him. I’m clawing at his back now, wanting him deeper, wanting to crawl beneath his skin, wanting him beneath mine until we’re one in the same.
Now he’s fucking me me fast and hard, making my tits jiggle and bounce. Our slapping skin rings out in the quiet room. The headboard crashes into the wall. If his neighbors can’t hear my screams, they can definitely hear that. I wouldn’t be surprised if we dent the wall or even break through the drywall after the beating it takes.
He lifts my legs, bringing my knees to my chest. This new angle causes him to drive into me as deep as my body will allow. I scream as my first orgasm rips through me. He pounds me until I see nothing but stars in front of my eyes and keeps at it until I see nothing at all.
I’m not normally this loud in bed, but the way he touches me, the depths he reaches, it’s as if I don’t have a mind of my own. The sounds just come out and I have no control of my own body.
He pulls out suddenly and I want to demand that he put it back, but then he rolls me over, and puts a hand on my stomach, lifting me onto my hands and knees, then pushes into me from behind. I gasp as he bottoms out, pushing me to my limit. Again, I cry out.
“God, yes, just like that,” I say, rocking into him. “Harder,” I say.
He doesn’t hesitate to oblige, plunging deep inside of me.
Holy shit. Everything is sensitive, reactive. The second orgasm building up feels explosive. When it happens, it’s going to be mind-blowing.
Our skin slaps together at a furious beat. My orgasm starts in my core and radiates up my spine and down my arms, into my legs until it reaches my fingers and toes. My entire body starts to shake. The sounds Marcus makes become more animalistic, grunting and growling as he comes closer to release.
“Oh, fuck,” he says
With one more desperate thrust, he digs his fingers into my ass cheeks and releases his load inside of me.
When he’s done we’re both panting and spent. He kisses my shoulder. As I lie next to him, I’m not sure what to say. He seems perfectly content not saying anything. He just lies there, looking at me, touching my skin, and caressing me. His mannerisms show all the symptoms of actual affection, but I know that’s not the case. It can’t be. He hired me to do a job.
I hate to admit it, but when I look at him, everything inside of me comes to life. I’m terrified about what that means. Anytime he’s near, there’s a warmth that runs through my veins, a flutter that comes to my stomach, a yearning between my legs at the thought of touching him. These feeling are turning into something I’m not sure I can control. Am I falling for him?
I try to shake the thoughts from my head. I can’t be falling for Marcus Steere. It would never work. He’s Him—smart, sexy, powerful, and very, very wealthy. And, well, I’m me. I can be smart, and on occasion I can be sexy, but powerful and wealthy I am not.
The way he’s watching me right now is so confusing. I’ve never had anyone look at me that way before, not even men who have claimed to love me in the past. I want to grab his shoulders and shake him and say, ‘Please stop looking at me that way.’ Not because I don’t want him to, but because it gets my hopes up. My rational mind tells me that it could never happen, but the romantic side of me wonders what it would be like if we fell in love.
“Do you know when my clothes will be ready? I’m going to need something to wear to work tomorrow,” I say to try and get rid of these childish romantic thoughts.
He takes his hand off my shoulder, and when he does, all I want is for him
to be touching me again, even though it’s confusing as hell.
“They won’t be ready for some time, but I have something else,” he says.
He gets out of bed. I can’t help but ogle his gorgeous muscular ass as he slips his boxers on and goes to a wardrobe in the corner of the room, the kind that the new clothes come in when they get to the store. They’re on a rack, encased in plastic. He unzips one and pulls out a stunning black dress with gold accents.
My jaw drops and I sit up. He opens several more of the bags, revealing equally fabulous clothes made of expensive fabric and expert tailoring.
I get out of bed too, forgetting I’m naked at first, then slip on the t-shirt I was wearing. The boxers stay off since they are still wet, but that’s okay because the shirt is plenty long enough to cover all the important stuff.
“These are incredible,” I say, reaching for the dress, but then I pause before it’s in my hands. “Did these belong to your ex-wife?”
I know I’m just pretending to be his wife in public, but to be seen in her clothes would feel like a slap in the face, to me and to her. I don’t want people to look at me and think I’m just some second-rate version trying to literally fill her shoes. A younger, cheaper replacement part in his life.
“No, these are samples from the line of women’s clothing I’ll be adding to my collection. I’ve changed the designs a bit to fit the budget. These are the originals, and my favorites. They’re yours now. You’ll look stunning. You have the perfect body for them.”
The compliment heats every inch of my body because I know he’s staring at me.
Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m going to be wearing a Marcus Steere original. When I applied for the job at his company, I was obsessed with fashion and I wanted to be part of a company that I believed in—I still do believe in the company, but I wasn’t feeling like men’s fashion was the right place for me anymore. The only reason I stayed was because there had been rumors he was going to have a woman’s line eventually, and I wanted to be on the ground floor for when it happened. Of course, back then, I thought I would be further ahead in my job, working alongside the designers. That’s what I went to school for, after all. Now that I see the clothing, I’m even more excited to be a part of it. And even more excited that I get to wear the clothes that were part of his original ideas.