by Mia Knight
“Bitch?” he echoed as he swiped a key card and pressed the highest floor. “You may be a badass, but you’re not a bitch.”
She glanced at Frederick and Mickey who gave them a modicum of privacy by standing in front of them. What she’d done to Carter was a bitch move—arouse, taunt, desert.
“I am a bitch.”
“You won’t convince me of that,” Marcus said.
He leaned against the wall of the elevator in a charcoal gray suit with a navy-blue handkerchief in the pocket. He was effortlessly stylish and handsome and a sight for sore eyes. He was relaxed and amused and worlds away from what she experienced with Angel ten minutes ago. He was smiling and happy while she felt wanton and vicious. Angel guessed what was going on with her at a glance because he was experiencing it himself. He could control and exploit a woman to get off, but what the hell was she going to do? She was on the verge of another bender as Marcus called it. Three steps forward, six back. She was good for a couple of days before something dragged her back to square one. She instinctively called Marcus. She hoped he could help her because she had no plan B.
She crossed her arms as she faced him across the lift. “I have bitch moments. Do you have a thing for dangerous women?”
He cocked his head to the side as he examined her. “Dangerous?”
“I’m armed,” she said.
He shrugged. “So am I.”
He was dismissing her claims, as usual. She wasn’t sure if that irritated or charmed her. He refused to see how fucked up and crazy she was. A part of her hated that she wanted to be the woman he thought she was. Well, she couldn’t say she hadn’t warned him.
The elevator opened to reveal a short hallway that led to two imposing doors. Marcus turned to Frederick and Mickey.
“No one can reach this floor without a key card. I’ll take care of her. Take a break.”
Frederick and Mickey looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded. Marcus swiped his key card in the elevator so her guards could go back to the lobby and turned to her.
“You’re staying in the penthouse?” she asked.
“No, but since you were coming, I thought we could enjoy the view.”
Marcus swiped his key in the door. The sound of running water tickled her ears as she entered. There was a five-foot-tall lion fountain to the left of the door. Its mane was perpetually slick from the water cascading down his back and tapping pleasantly in the pool he stood in. A wall of unbroken glass showed The Strip in all its glory. The bright colors bounced off the gleaming black floor. There was a full-size kitchen to the left and a massive living area that could easily sit up to fifteen people. On the long black dining table was a bucket of ice with two bottles of wine and several covered trays.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Thought you might be hungry.”
“It’s midnight.”
“So? Are you hungry?”
She was a lot of things, but she wasn’t sure if hungry was one of them. She watched him uncover the trays to reveal rows of tiny, elegant appetizers.
“I told you I was coming an hour ago. How did you put this together so quickly?”
He raised a brow. “This is Pyre Casinos, babe. We’re ready for anything.”
He opened a white wine with a French label as she walked toward the wall of glass. The huge balcony along two sides of the penthouse was everything. There was a full-size Jacuzzi, lounge chairs, and a covered cabana along with an untended bar. The penthouse was definitely made for entertaining.
“Here.”
She accepted the glass of wine. “Thanks.”
She let the chilled wine wash away the bitter taste on her tongue. Marcus watched her intently, gauging her mood. How much did he see?
“I’m glad you came tonight.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “You’re wearing your armor tonight.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”
“You look hard, untouchable. You use clothes the same way I do—to make a statement.” He grasped her free hand and carried it to his mouth. He kissed the inside of her wrist. “You may think you’re a badass bitch, but I know your secret.”
She tensed. “Secret?”
“You’re soft.” He unfurled her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Delicate. You champion those who need it. Lyla, Honey, Alice … What war are you fighting tonight, Carmen?”
An internal one that she was losing. Angel enhanced her carnal hunger into debauched desires that chased through her mind. Marcus’s gentleness made her feel like a depraved pervert.
He cupped her chin. “Tell me what you need.”
The hand holding her wine glass trembled as she tried to get her skittering thoughts together. If Angel hadn’t publicly humiliated that woman, he would have been the perfect candidate to help her out tonight. Angel was right. Vinny’s death changed her. She’d always had a high sex drive, but now there was a dark edge to it—a craving she wasn’t comfortable with because it was new and unexplored. She was in the mood to be used, pushed to her limits, and wrung dry. She needed a man who wouldn’t use her dark needs against her. Was Marcus up to the challenge or was she about to destroy their tentative friendship by asking for too much?
21
“Carmen, tell me what you want.”
She drained the glass of wine before she took the plunge. “Do you have fantasies?”
“What?”
She grasped his tie to reel him in. He came willingly and towered over her. His lips were so close, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. She cupped the back of his neck and ignored her heart which sped up as anxiety and lust mixed with alcohol and heated her blood.
“Fantasies, Marcus. Do you have any?”
Witnessing what Angel was capable of and what he dared made her hungry to be dominated. She was a strong, capable woman, but right now, she wanted someone else to call the shots and rule her life so she could take a break. Marcus watched her closely, probably trying to figure out where this was headed.
“You,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re my fantasy.”
“Me doing what?”
“Anything.” He shrugged. “Everything. You’re doing a good job of giving me variety.”
She looped her arms around his neck and went on tiptoes so their lips brushed as she said, “I want you to use me.”
“What?”
She stared into his eyes as she said, “Whatever fantasy you have, make me do it.” One hand slipped into his hair. “Make me submit. Wring me dry.”
There was a lot of activity in his eyes, but he didn’t speak. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
“I’m going to fight you,” she whispered, and his body locked against hers. “I need to battle tonight, and I want you to win.”
She stroked the side of his face. Her stomach jittered as she waited for him to respond. Only the sound of the gently dripping water filled the room. He hadn’t shoved her away and called her crazy yet. Words tumbled out of her mouth, desires she didn’t know she possessed.
“I need you to make me believe I’m yours. Completely, irrevocably. I need to believe things will go right in my life because it’s yours, and you won’t let anything happen to your fuck toy.”
The night of Vinny’s murder marked the beginning of her perfect life being torn to shreds. She lost Vinny and her future, her father, and Uncle Manny. Fast forward three years and she was still floating through life with no anchor or true North. She wanted to imagine she belonged to someone, even if it was only for an hour. She had been alone for so long. The need to feel bonded to someone, to be connected on a visceral level burned in her gut. Before, she arrogantly believed she could control her life, Vinny’s life, Lyla’s life. Vinny was gunned down, Gavin cheated … She couldn’t control people, she couldn’t control anything, so she would give someone else the reins … temporarily, if he accepted. She didn’t know who she was anymore. She wanted someone to mold her into someone wo
rth keeping.
She stroked the side of his face with a trembling hand. “Use me, Marcus.”
He searched her eyes. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Oh. My. God. He was willing. Her eyes stung with tears of relief and that awful wrenching feeling in her heart subsided. Her heart swelled with emotion. Holy shit. Marcus Fletcher would let his caveman free. Anticipation and excitement made her breathing heavy. This was dangerous, but she trusted him. Marcus matched her time and again, and he was willing to step off the cliff with her again. She role played with Vinny but never like this. She’d never had these urges before, but they were here now and not going away. It was time to purge. She hoped Marcus was up for it.
“Let yourself go,” she whispered as she kissed the side of his mouth. “You’re a man. Let your animal instincts take over. Forget about morals and proper behavior. Do what feels good. You’re in control here.” She pressed a close-mouthed kiss on his lips before she looked up at him. “That’s the last one you get unless you make me.”
She shoved him hard. He stumbled back and dropped his cup. Glass shattered, and expensive wine leaked across the floor. Neither of them acknowledged it. They stared at one another as the colored lights from The Strip played over their faces. She couldn’t read his expression. His rigid body, narrowed eyes, and silence was so unlike him. It made her heart flutter with excitement. She’d caught glimpses of his dominant side, but he’d never given it free rein. He was always cool, effortless control. He was comfortable playing the nice guy, but there was more to him. She knew it. Now, how to incite his beast?
She hurled her empty glass at him. He sidestepped and turned to watch the cup shatter before he turned back to her with a scowl. Her badass bitch rose to the surface and raised a brow.
“What are you gonna do about it?” she asked with a hand on her hip.
Marcus stared at her.
“Nothing?” She sighed dramatically and examined her nails. “Figures. I know I should have fucked—”
One moment, he was standing three feet away, and the next, he was in front of her. He clamped a hand over her mouth and propelled her backward until she collided with the glass wall. Her nails dug into his wrist, but he didn’t loosen his hold. She looked up, and her heart stuttered. Holy fuck. The polite, amused businessman was gone. His whole demeanor had changed. His eyes were calculating, cold, and hungry while the lines of his face seemed sharper as he morphed into a character who would match hers.
He leaned down so their faces were inches apart. “Behave.”
She brought her leg up, but he jerked back in time and gripped her by the throat. He squeezed hard enough to make her aware of his strength. No man had ever manhandled her before. No man dared and now … now she could let loose as she never had before.
She went for his eyes with her nails. He blocked her hand at the same time that he kicked one of her legs out from under her. She screamed as she fell. Marcus followed her down and stopped the back of her head from hitting the floor with the grip on her throat. He crouched over her, a beast in his six-thousand-dollar Brioni suit.
“I told you to behave,” he said.
His placid tone sent a chill down her spine. His actions were nothing like the Marcus she knew. What had she unleashed … and how could she get more? She made her eyes as wide and vulnerable as possible and let her lips quiver.
“M-Marcus?”
He blinked twice, and his hand on her throat fell away. “Carmen?” When she didn’t answer, he cupped her face. “Did I hurt—”
She grasped a handful of his hair and yanked savagely. As he toppled to the side, she leaped to her feet and ran as fast as she could in her stilettos. She was feet from the stairs when Marcus tackled her from behind. She lost her breath as she took his weight.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he said.
She panted as her cheek pressed against the cold floor. He stood and yanked her up with him. She sucked in a breath as he twisted her arm behind her back. She walked quickly to avoid him breaking it. He shoved her on her knees in front of the couch and sat in front of her. He spread his legs and dragged her forward so she was between his thighs. The angle he kept her arm twisted at made her bend forward so her nose was pressed to his crotch.
“Undo my pants,” he ordered.
“I need both hands.”
“You can do without one.”
She fumbled with the belt buckle, undid his button, and tugged the zipper down. Her hand brushed against his dick, which was already hard. She looked up at him as she pulled his cock out of his underwear.
“Suck me.”
She bared her teeth at him. “Make me.”
His hand clamped on her cheeks, making her mouth fall open. He pushed her head down, and the next thing she knew, his dick was in her mouth, and he was balls deep. She gagged and tapped his hard thigh. When that didn’t work, her hand dug into his chest, but it made no difference since he was still clothed. He had a grip on her hair and her arm still bent behind her back, effectively pinning her. Holy shit.
“Suck me.”
She wriggled her tongue, and his grip on her hair eased. She bobbed tentatively and was rewarded even more. The piercing pain in her arm eased. Rewards for good behavior. He held her too close for her to see his face. He could have been anyone except that his scent reassured her she was safe. She tried to relax as she worked him, but she couldn’t. She had never done anything like this before. She expected this of Angel, but Marcus? She wasn’t sure if she was exhilarated or terrified.
“Use your hand.”
She hesitated, and he forced her head down. She immediately wrapped her hand around his dick to stop herself from deep throating him again. Her diamond rings sparkled as she fisted him hard.
“Good girl.”
That made her pause, but the grip in her hair forced her to continue moving.
“I learned to hold back from a very young age. I’ve never done what I wanted, I always did what was required, and I was fine with that.” His voice roughened as she swirled her tongue over the tip of his cock. He stroked her hair. “You come to me, asking me to forget years of conditioning.”
He yanked her head back and stared at her, eyes devoid of anything civilized and gentle.
“It’s dangerous to tell someone to let go when you don’t know what’s inside them.”
She licked her lips as her heart galloped in her chest. “What’s inside you?”
“I’ll show you.”
He yanked her up with that brutal grip on her arm and threw her on the couch. He ripped off her thong and clutched her thighs against his chest and rose. Her top half hung upside down, back arched and hands planted on the couch cushions. She wasn’t prepared for him to enter her, and she let out a choked scream. Before her body could fully adjust to the intrusion, he was moving—hard, brutal thrusts that took her breath away. He was hitting spots that made her eyes roll. She was as helpless as the girl Angel finger fucked.
“Marcus, Marcus.” She wasn’t sure whether she was pleading for mercy or for more.
She would come. It had to be the fastest climax on record. That couldn’t happen. It wasn’t enough—not yet. Her body might be sated, but her demons were still bloodthirsty for more. It would be over too soon. She began to fight—twisting, screaming, thrashing.
“What the fuck?”
Marcus dropped her, and she landed on the couch. She rolled off and stumbled toward the stairs on unsteady legs, but once again, she didn’t make it. Marcus grabbed a handful of her dress and yanked. The sound of ripping fabric made her scalp tingle as she fell forward. She ignored the sting in her hands and tried to get away, stilettos trying to find purchase on the slick floor. They ripped her dress as they fought, and she felt a draft on her back before the dress fell away. He pinned her on her stomach and placed his thighs on either side of hers as he entered her again. He rode her hard. She cried out and clawed the floor as she tried to get away from him. He was so deep, he was st
abbing her cervix. The pain and pleasure of it silenced her clamoring demons. Color returned to her world and her senses came back to life, throbbing and pulsing. She could smell a faint lemon scent wafting off the cold, unforgiving ground beneath her as she panted. She could feel the tiny hairs on Marcus’s arm brushing against her cheek with each thrust. He was fucking her back to life.
“Do you know what it does to me to see you like this? At my mercy?” Marcus growled.
She thrashed beneath him. Her pussy was burning; she was high on lust and craved more. She wanted her head to explode. As if he sensed this, he pulled out. His weight disappeared, and she lay shaking on the floor until he grabbed her by the hair. She followed on her knees to the glass wall. He leaned against it and forced his dick in her mouth with both hands clenched her hair. The taste of them made her moan. She gripped the leg of his pants as he fucked her mouth.
“Your lipstick is all over my dick. I love that. What did you say before? That you were thinking of fucking someone else?”
She hummed, and he yanked her away from his cock. She needed it so badly that she wrapped her hand around it and continued to stroke it. His face was carved with savage lust. He was out of control and so was she. She was cock drunk and loving it.
He gripped her face. “Who owns you?”
“You do.”
He leaned down and kissed her, biting, licking, sucking as she panted with her eyes closed.
“You give yourself to me?”
“Yes. Take me. Everything.”
“I’m glad you said that.”
He yanked her up with a hold on her throat. She staggered on legs that felt like water. He bent her over. Her hands came out instinctively and hit the glass. She moaned as his fingers slid into her raw pussy. She was dripping, even down her legs. His slick fingers circled her asshole and then slid in. The new burn made her clench her teeth.
“Did he fuck your ass?” Marcus murmured.
“I-it wasn’t his thing.”
His chuckle made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand. She opened her eyes and saw his reflection in the glass as his fingers played with her ass. He looked as if she was putting him through excruciating pain. It made her lightheaded with anticipation.