“Wait,” I say, stunned by his reaction and realizing I’ve been a lot less than grateful or giving to Mark. “I’m sorry. Don’t give up on me, Mark. I need you. I need you to help me with Lynx. I need you to help me… well… with me.”
“I’m sorry, too. I don’t mean to threaten. I just…” He shakes his head and lets out a big sigh. His eyes are so beautiful, and sad. “I am tired of being accused every time something doesn’t go your way. I know trust is a huge issue, but you’ve got to get around it. I’m not helping Blake or Val and I don’t ever intend to betray you to them. I don’t control the world, Julia. I just control how I respond to it.”
“I know, I know.” I nod in agreement. He’s right, of course. “But now, more than ever, we need a response.”
I turn and lean back as he puts his arms around me. I regain my sense of security, comfort, and hope in his embrace. He hugs me tightly and starts ruminating quietly about the situation.
“I’ve got my own notes from when Lynx was my account, the affidavit from Howard, Janice’s print-out from your IT guy, the bank records I snagged from Intrend, the info from Val’s office and some memo’s—”
“Intrend? Memo’s? What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been doing a little more than sitting on my hands and planning your retirement from journalism, Julia. I’ve had investigators doing a lot of extra chores.” He squints his eyes just enough to tell me that’s all the info I am getting about that.
“Is it enough?”
“If it’s all we have, we’ll use it and try. But, it’s all circumstantial. The judge might give you an extension but the moment we ask for it, Blake will burn those records. He’s only keeping them now so he knows how to lie and not get caught. He has to know what he did in order to know how to frame it. We need to get that folder.”
Mark hugs me tighter, his hands running up and down my arms.
“We need to get in Blake’s office and we’re running out of time. The good news is the closer the deadline gets, the cockier Blake gets. Still, if he’s closing down Lynx, you can bet he isn’t going to let anyone waltz around through his office–especially me.”
Suddenly, he blinks and smiles. He has an idea, I can tell. But I’m in no way prepared for what comes out of his mouth next.
“Do you trust me?”
“Um… of course, I… well… ” I struggle and realize submission means giving him my honesty, not just my body. “I’m trying to trust you. I trust you most of the time.”
“But, you’re open to trusting me?”
“Yes,” I laugh with one of those maniacal giggles that says I no longer have any idea what we’re talking about.
“How well do you deal with pain?”
“What?”
“Not the bang your head on the counter pain or I just lost my best friend pain, but pain that leads to something better. How well can you endure something if you know it leads to something else? Would you accept pain if you trusted the person giving it to you? Could you trust them not to hurt you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t like pain so I avoid it, like most people.” I struggle to answer because I’m trying to figure out where this is coming from, and where it’s going. It went the last place I expected.
“I want us to have anal sex.”
“Are you crazy? NO!” I say standing up. “As usual, I’m dealing with the worst crisis in my professional life and you’re thinking with your dick. Typical man!”
“Hear me out.” He rises and takes my hand, pulling me toward the playroom we’ve used before. “Sometimes we have to put ourselves in a position that’s painful, that’s humiliating, or that we fear. But after we go through it, we get what we need in the end. If we can get through that position with someone we trust, it makes it easier with someone we don’t.”
I allow Mark to walk me into the room and sit on the bed. No hairbrush. Thank goodness.
“Look, Mark,” I say matter-of-factly. “I’m not having anal sex with someone I trust, someone I don’t, or anyone else, because I’m not doing that with anyone ever! Never did it, never going to. Case closed.”
“Why?”
“Because, no. I’ve reached my limit.”
“Why is it a limit? Look Julia, I’m not going to force you. I’m not going to abandon you. But let’s just talk. Why won’t you have anal sex?”
“Because it hurts.”
“How do you know it hurts? You just said you never had it.” He sits up straight, clearly in rational mode. I’m leaning back against the headboard trying to work up a good answer to an honest question.
“Everyone knows it hurts. It’s common knowledge. Sun starts in the East, water is wet, anal sex hurts.”
“But what does it feel like after the hurt?”
“I… I don’t know,” I confess. “I’ve never really thought past the hurt.”
“That’s exactly what I’m getting at, Julia. I think I know a way to get you to trust me. But in order to do it, you’re going to have to get past the hurt. You’re going to suffer the pain, but you’re going to have to keep going because the reward is so much better. You need to trust me enough to know I wouldn’t hurt you, even when there’s some present pain. You’ve got to trust me past the hurt.”
I want to trust him. God knows I do. I consider what he’s saying and it makes a lot of sense. Still, I’m terrified by the prospect of this. I’ve never been this open, this intimate with anyone. Can I really do it with him?
“And,” he adds, “If you can learn to get through the hurt because of the rewards–I think I know how we can get that folder out of Blake’s office.”
“Look.” I raise my hands in surrender. “I know he’s an asshole, but I really can’t think about Blake and having anal sex with you at the same time. It’s really too much.”
Mark laughs and kisses me gently.
“Then let’s leave Blake out of it for now, and work on that trust.”
I sigh and nod, more to feel his body against mine again than an urgent desire to test the limits of my trust of Mark. We undress in a slow and luxurious manner, with Mark kissing and caressing me as our clothes come off. He reaches down, rubbing my mound and getting me aroused. His lips pulling at mine and his hands over my body send shivers throughout my entire being.
I rub his cock and lean down to take it in my mouth, my lips pursing on his head, sucking with purpose and passion, hoping to bring him to such a quick place of pleasure he’ll forget all about this ‘plan’ for the night. He leans back allowing me to take more and more of him in. I feel him growing inside my wet, warm, welcoming mouth. Then he gently lifts my chin.
“That was beautiful,” he says sincerely. “Now I want you to let me guide you. I want you to trust me.”
My body trembles, and I bite my lower lip. I have no idea what to expect. I nod my head yes.
Mark guides me onto my stomach, lifting my hips slightly. He rubs my breasts and kisses the back of my neck, at one point letting his tongue lick all the way down my spine. He massages my buttocks and runs his finger up the sensitive tissue toward my small virgin hole. I jump a bit the first time his finger runs across it.
He opens the drawer of the nightstand and brings out a bottle of lubricant. I hear the cap snap open but don’t feel any on me. Then I feel his wet finger once again rubbing at my anus.
“Try to relax. This part isn’t going to hurt,” he coos as his lubricated finger presses against me.
“Is this a medical exam or sex?” I try to joke, hoping to ease the tension. I feel his finger enter me, and my body gives way. He rubs the inside of my opening with lube and takes a long time, allowing me to become used to the sensation.
“It’s trust, Julia. It’s trust.” He squeezes more lubricant out and soon his finger is joined by a second. My body spasms slightly, the stretching needed to fit both in. He continues exploring and moving in me and I understand what he was trying to say. After the discomfort of the unfamiliar presence, my body is res
ponding to the feeling of him in me. I begin to move my hips, enjoying the sensation of my body rubbing against his fingers.
I’m doing this. I’m actually doing this. I’m overwhelmed by the physical sensation and the emotional reality of how vulnerable I truly am at this moment. He withdraws his fingers slowly, dripping some more lube in my hole.
He leans his body over me, kissing and nuzzling me again. His hands grip my hips as I feel the head of his well lubed shaft press against me. There is just a slight pressure pushing on me.
“Are you ready?” he asks sweetly. I know in my heart if I asked him to stop, he would. I also know if I did that, I would spend the rest of my life wondering what I had passed on. I nod. “You’re going to feel a stretch, like a cramp, and it will hurt a bit. Just try to relax. The pain passes quickly, but the pleasure’s just beginning.”
I feel him guiding himself into my small opening. He moves slowly, just inching his head into me. I groan aloud as I experience the first cramp pull through my entire backside. My breath comes out in small huffs and tears fill the corners of my eyes. I’m just about to say stop when there is a sort of “pop” and he’s inside me.
At this point, my mind takes over where my body has left off. I’m so overwhelmed by the intimacy and reality of this connection. He is taking my body in a way it has never been before, and I am opening to him a part I’ve never even considered. The pain subsides, going from a harsh cramp to a slight pulling as he inches further into me.
He begins to pump in tiny strokes, edging back and forth inside my body. The pain is gone and I feel amazing. The sensation of the friction between us providing a kind of internal warmth as he continues moving, back and forth, massaging my insides with his cock. I allow my hips to sway with him, enjoying the sensations.
We are truly one. I am an extension of him, connected and moving together. Making love to one another in a soul encapsulating way. He reaches around finding my already swollen and aching clit and begins to rub it in small circles in rhythm with his thrusts. I bury my head in the pillow and shut my mind off, feeling my body be totally, wonderfully used.
Soon I am breathing heavily and feeling myself climb again to the height of my pleasure, my clit actually aching from his attention, my bottom feeling him push against my cheeks as he prepares to explode so deep within me. I let myself climb as high as I can then suddenly without any more build up I let go, the orgasm tearing through me. I feel it inside me, around me, searing at my soul as my body begins its uncontrollable shaking, creating more gripping tension on his cock.
He lets out a pained, forceful groan that lingers in the air as he explodes deep inside me. The feeling of his cum in my tight body is unlike anything I have known. My body stretches to allow his withdrawal and he collapses on top of me. I feel the sweat from his forehead against my back.
I turn to the side, my tight hole now feeling the loss of him and puckering with the desire to have him back, creating a second level of sensation as pleasurable in this moment as it was painful in the first.
“You did it,” he says kissing me and wrapping his body around me like a protective shield. “You were amazing.”
“That whole thing was amazing,” I gasp. “I never would have guessed. I never would have known.”
“I hope it wasn’t too bad.”
“It was perfect.” I snuggle against his chest enjoying silence in the afterglow.
Eventually, I rise and clean up, get dressed, and find myself in front of the elevator. My head so buzzy, and my insides a tad bit sore, I don’t remember to ask him what the plan for Blake’s office might be.
“You aren’t really firing Lucy, are you?”
“After tonight?” he says with a smile. “I think she can have a contract extension. Hopefully after next week, you can come through the front door.”
I remember my Dad’s nurse, talking about what’s important to know about living and dying. I realize it is time for me to make the best of the life I have.
“I think I’m falling in love with you, Mark Stone.” I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth. Like the rest of this evening, they were totally unplanned.
“I’m already there, Julia Sharp.” He kisses me deeply one last time.
I’m not entirely sure how I got home. My car ended up in my parking space at my apartment but I don’t remember a single street corner or red light. It is as if I simply floated down the avenue toward my place.
Chapter 16
Waking up the next morning, I’m still in awe and reliving our experience and the words I said last night. My doorbells rings and I practically fall over the couch running to get it. When I open the door, no one is there but a manila envelope has been taped to it. It wouldn’t be Janice dropping off the screenshots because she would stay. So, it must be something from Mark.
I sit on the couch opening the envelope carefully thinking it may be a note or a poem, or even just the plan for getting the proof out of Blake’s office. I feel the heavy card stock against my fingers and realize it is a series of glossy pictures. Pulling a stack out of the envelope, I flip through them several times before my mind can really register what my eyes are seeing.
Mark on his couch making love to a woman.
Mark by a pool with a woman on her knees sucking his cock.
Mark with a woman bent over his lap. He’s spanking her with a paddle. She’s wearing a collar.
Mark with a woman, bent over the bar, taking her from behind.
Over and over I look at these shots of Mark fucking this woman in every way he has also made love to me. Finally, it hits me. I clutch my heart because I feel like I have just been stabbed.
I recognize the one thing that is worse than seeing the pictures, worse than the fact I just opened my most intimate self to him, and worse than knowing I just revealed my heart to him and told him I love him.
The woman in the pictures is Valerie James.
Chapter 17
“Son of a bitch!” I shout, throwing the pictures down on the table as if they burn my fingers. Truth is, they are burning my eyes and incinerating my heart. Mark and Valerie? Under my nose? Behind my back? In front of my face? How can this be happening?
My mind snaps back and forth so quickly I’m worried I might get the bends. One minute I’m reveling in the joy of breaking down the walls that have held my passion in check for so long and the next I am cast into the cold light of this ugly reality. I turn away from the table and walk to the window hoping to see some sun, or smog, or children playing or an old woman getting mugged–anything but those pictures. Then, before I get halfway across the room, I go back and look at them. Mark and Valerie James making love, his hands on her hips, his cock in her mouth, her playful, disgusting smile and his deep beautiful eyes looking at her–the way I thought he only looked at me.
Am I mad because he’s the jerk who used me or am I mad because I’m the fool who loved him for it?
My mind reels with possible scenarios as to what is really happening. However, it’s about to take a holiday because the numbness of the shock is wearing off and pure, raw emotional energy is taking its place. Like a generator that has reached critical mass, I fume and throw things. I walk around in circles alternating between cursing Mark and berating myself for falling into this scheme.
The table, still filled with the paperwork for my rejoinder, my father’s medical bills, and old resumes I’m trying to update in case the worst should happen, serves as a reminder that the worst most definitely has happened.
“You son of a bitch!” I say again, pushing everything off in a flurry. Files and documents fly across the room. “Your brother stole my company, his lawyer stole my money and you, you, stole my love. I have nothing. Nothing!”
Silent and unmoving, the table refuses to comfort me or refute my charge. In fact, fighting with the table proves to be a completely unsatisfying experience. But I know what wouldn’t leave me empty and cold. Marching into Mark’s pristine office and throwing
some of his files around. As prissy as he is about his paperwork, he’ll probably collapse and then when he’s down on the floor collecting his precious accounts and transaction ledgers, I’ll kick him right in the balls.
The plan makes every kind of sense in the world to me. I rush to get dressed, choosing a pair of black jeans, leather boots and a T-shirt. I’m in a shit kicking mood and I know just the piece of shit who has it coming. I grab my purse and begin a whirlwind tour of my apartment playing the “where did I toss my keys last night?” game.
Last night. What a difference a day makes. Last night I was a sane, settled woman who confessed my love to a man and meant it. I thanked him for bringing warmth and necessary changes into my life and envisioned our paths growing in hope and goodness. Last night I was Julia Sharp. Today, I’m Pissed Off Julia, Queen of the Damned.
“Wait,” Mark’s voice called from somewhere deep inside my psyche. “Wait and think.”
He’s right. How cruel a fate is that? Even when he has wronged me, he’s right. I am Julia Sharp, not Miss Shark. I am smart, together, and in charge of my world. I don’t run around half-cocked shouting and acting the jackass just because I’m not getting my way. All this month I’ve been on the rollercoaster of my emotions, learning self-respect and self-control, and this is the test. Not Mark’s test, my test. If I can take this betrayal and scrape some kind of good from the bottom of my broken heart, I can conquer anything.
I put down my purse and sit on the couch, collecting the pictures back into the envelope. I can’t go charging into Sandstone Ventures and make a scene. I’ve already been humiliated once in that office, and Blake has that restraining order against me. I probably shouldn’t even make a call. It would be traced, catalogued and I’d be before the judge in time for lunch.
Taking a deep breath, I try to focus as the first tears begin to fall. I think of Mark, his sense of humor, and warm gentle touch. The way he holds me after sex, nurturing and replenishing my energy. The rough and confident thrusts he makes in my body, taking me as an entitled being–raw sex and real power put together. The caring way he cooks, and teaches. I can stare at him for hours and feel nothing but peace and anticipation of the next time our bodies merge into a surging, consuming wave.
Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels Page 13