by Mia Knight
“It’s my thing,” Marcus said as he stretched her.
She pranced on her stilettos. “No.”
His fingers paused. He yanked out without warning and slapped her hard enough to make her shriek and ram into the glass to get away from him. Holy shit. He crowded her against the glass and gripped her throat. She reached back and grabbed his wrist in panic as his hand slid back into her ass.
“You take what I give you,” he hissed in her ear as he fucked her brutally with his fingers.
She trembled and nodded.
“Tell me again.”
“Tell you what?” she panted.
“Who owns you?”
She took too long to answer and screamed when he jammed three fingers into her. She bounced up on her tiptoes.
“You,” she cried. “You. Only you.”
“That’s what I want to hear.”
She stilled when she felt the head of his penis touch her puckered ass. Holy shit. It felt as big as a fist. Good thing she had slobbered all over his dick. She blew out a breath, which caught in her throat as he eased in. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her backward until he was embedded inside her. She screamed and bowed her head, her nails threatening to snap off as she pressed them against the wall.
“Take it,” he said.
She hung her head and did as he said. Her body was lax as all the fight left her. She trembled uncontrollably as he eased in and out of her until he was balls deep.
“Now who owns all of you?” he whispered.
“You,” she whispered back.
“That’s right.”
He bent her over and began to move. His movements were rough and uncontrolled, betraying how far gone he was. He sounded more animal than man while she felt more like a throbbing ball of need than a human being. He shoved her forward, pinning her face, breasts, and half her abdomen against the wall. Pain and pleasure made her buck against him, inciting him to go faster and make him more aggressive. He obliged, fucking her so hard, she screamed.
“Marcus!”
Starbursts went off behind her eyelids as ecstasy crashed into her. She screamed as she came—the contrast of the freezing glass and the hot male behind her blowing her into oblivion. Marcus rode her through it and continued to fuck her, grunting and grabbing handfuls of her skin as his control shredded.
“Down.”
She heard the command a second before he spun her around and kicked her legs out from her under. Her knees hit the floor, and she looked up as Marcus stroked himself.
“Open your mouth,” he said.
Before she could comply, he gripped her cheeks again and her mouth dropped open to accept his cum. Jets of milky white covered her face and spurted into her mouth. She closed her eyes as he climaxed and licked the cum from her lips.
“Carmen,” he panted.
She opened her eyes and saw him staring down at her, dazed and shell-shocked. She took his cock into her mouth and sucked gently. He shuddered, tipped his head back, and stroked her hair. When he released her, she began to sink to the floor, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her up. There was a marked difference now in his grip and the way he picked her up and held her to his chest. She was limp as a noodle.
“Okay?” he asked gruffly.
His voice echoed strangely. She opened one eye and saw that they were in a lavish bathroom. He leaned into a shower and turned on the water.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
“Mmm.” She couldn’t talk.
He set her on her feet, and she threw out a hand for balance.
“Lean against the wall,” he ordered as he unbuckled her shoes and stripped off his suit.
He carried her into the shower. She leaned her head back and enjoyed the warm water cascading over her aching body. Marcus washed her while she leaned against him for support. When he finished, he picked her up again. She dropped her face on his shoulder and allowed him to take her wherever. She roused when icy wind touched her wet, nude body. She shifted and burrowed against him.
“Marcus.”
“Hold on.”
He walked into the Jacuzzi with her in his arms. She relaxed once she was shoulders deep in hot water. He set her on her feet, and she floated.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t drown.”
She giggled weakly as he left her. She tipped her head back and spread her arms wide. She felt empty in the best way possible. No needs, compulsions, guilt. It had all been burned away. She had been cleansed. The purge had been successful, better than she could have imagined. She wasn’t sure how long she waited, but a sound made her eyes open. Marcus came toward her with a tray of appetizers in one hand and two bottled waters in the other. He was buck naked. She watched his muscles shift beautifully as he moved. He set the tray and waters near her before he jumped in. He waded toward her and took her in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes.
“You’re all right?” he asked.
“Mmm.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He sat on the underwater bench and maneuvered her to sit sideways on his lap. He snagged a bottled water and held it to her lips. She didn’t realize she was thirsty until the first cool drops hit her tongue. She drank half of it before she pulled back.
“Thanks,” she rasped.
“Here.”
He pressed something against her lips. She didn’t hesitate. She opened, and he placed something crunchy in her mouth. She hummed as the flavor burst on her tongue.
“Yum. What is it?”
“Lobster wonton.”
Something else touched her lips, and she opened. She chewed and swallowed.
“Amazing,” she said.
“Grilled artichoke with roasted garlic aioli dipping sauce,” Marcus said.
He fed her while she floated, utterly content and at peace with her world.
“Borsin breaded mushrooms.”
Marcus went on and on until she tucked her head under his chin in surrender. “I’m full. Thank you.”
She could hear the faint traces of a musical score playing for the Bellagio water fountain show. Between the warm water bubbling around her and Marcus’s body, she felt as if she was near a roaring fire. She was lax, lethargic, and for the first time in a long time, she knew everything would be okay. She would get past the pain, the relapses, the guilt. The battle with Marcus challenged her physically, mentally, emotionally. She had never felt better.
“You scare me.”
For a moment, she thought she was hearing things. She raised her head to see his face.
“What?” she slurred, so exhausted she was having a hard time thinking straight.
“You scare me,” he repeated as his eyes tracked over her face.
“Why?”
“You have no fear. I could have … If I had been a different man …” He shook his head and tightened his hold on her. “You bring out things in me. I don’t like the man I am with you.”
She chuckled. “I love him. He’s perfect for me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You like the man who mouth fucked you? Pulled your hair? Almost broke your arm?”
Just the memory of it made her pussy tingle. “I loved that it was you doing it. I would have killed any other man who tried. I knew I was safe. I trust you.”
His silence was fraught with tension. She shifted to straddle him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed gentle kisses over his face.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
His grumpy, disgruntled tone made her smile. She sat back and looked straight into dissecting green eyes.
“For always being there when I need you.” She stroked his cheek. “I cried during our first hookup, and you still came back for more.” She chuckled and kissed him, soft and sweet. “I pulled a gun on you, turned you into a teacher, fucked you in a laundry room, and just now you gave me something you’ve never given anyone else.”
He stared at her for a long minute. “What’s tha
She rested her forehead against his. “The real you.” He tensed, and she wrapped herself around him. “The one you don’t show people, the one you’re ashamed of.” She looked deep into his eyes. “I love that guy.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’ve got me all fucked up.”
She laughed and nuzzled him. “You’re fine; you’re just freaked because you lost control.”
He fixed her with a bad-tempered look. “I did. That can’t happen again.”
“It will,” she predicted and gave him another kiss. “I’ll make sure it does.”
She dropped her cheek on his shoulder and sighed. He slipped off the bench while she clung to him. He bounced around the Jacuzzi with his arms holding her close.
“What happened tonight?” he asked.
“I had a dream.”
“About Vinny.”
It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes.”
She was so sated that she didn’t feel even a flicker of pain. She girded herself to collect her thoughts and show her cards. After going to war with her, he deserved to know why. “I made a lot of mistakes. I have a lot of guilt.” Her chest tightened fractionally, but she soldiered on. “I don’t know how to handle the pain, so I obsess about other things. Food, shopping, volunteering, taking care of others, sex. Nothing satisfies me for long before I’m on my next bender.”
Marcus said nothing, and for that, she was grateful. She was glad of her position since it allowed her to confess without seeing his expression while she spilled her guts. In her current state, there was no embarrassment, guilt, or sorrow—only still waters.
“I needed something more tonight. Seeing Angel finger fuck that chick in Lux didn’t help. He goes through the same manic episodes that I do, but we handle them differently. He thought I would submit to him, to let him do whatever he wanted to me to get my fix, but I gave Carter a lap dance instead.”
Marcus tensed, but that could have been her imagination.
“I needed something more tonight. I needed a fight, and I didn’t know how I would get one.” She tightened her arms around him and kissed his shoulder. “You gave me exactly what I needed. Thank you.”
“I didn’t scare you?”
“You did, but in the best way.” She smiled against his skin. “A good guy with major kink. I love it. You make me happy, Marcus Fletcher.”
He pulled away slightly, forcing her to raise her head and look up.
“Is there something going on between you and Angel?” he asked.
“We’ve had … encounters,” she admitted, “but we haven’t slept together.”
He cocked his head to the side. “But you were close to it?”
“Yes.”
He collared her throat. “I don’t want anyone else touching you.”
She beamed and wrapped her arms around him. “Really? That’s sweet!”
“I mean it.”
“We’re exclusive,” he said in a rough voice that said his beast was still near the surface.
She liked the hand on her throat, the possessiveness in his voice. It made her feel wanted and cherished instead of lost and alone. “I’m good with that.”
“It means no lap dances for other men too.” She smiled as his thumb feathered over her pulse. “Is there anything else I should know?”
She nodded, and he tensed.
“What?” he bit out.
“You were bloody magnificent tonight.”
The hard glitter faded from his eyes and was replaced by something much softer and the slightest bit arrogant. “Really?”
She nodded emphatically. “Best hate fuck ever.”
He frowned. “I don’t like that term.”
“Fine. Best purge fuck ever.”
“I still don’t like it, but it’s better.”
She kissed him. “How about you’re the best purge a girl could ask for?”
“Better,” he murmured. “I’m glad you came to me.”
“Me too.”
She wasn’t sure how long they stayed wrapped in each other, but when he carried her out, she moaned in protest.
“You’re falling asleep on me.”
She shivered as he moved through the penthouse. Once again, he stepped into the shower with her and washed away the chlorine and all traces of the purge. He shampooed her hair while she floated in the throes of her high. He wrapped her in a warm, comfy robe and placed her in a bed. He slid in beside her and pulled the heavy duvet over them. He buried his face in her hair as he wrapped her close from behind.
“I ripped your dress,” he said.
“I think we both did,” she mumbled.
“You need clothes,” he said.
She wasn’t worried about it. She was warm, calm, safe. Nothing else mattered.
22
Carmen opened her eyes and found herself alone in bed. She sat up and bit back a moan. She felt battered but deliciously so. The room was empty, curtains drawn. She slipped out of bed and sucked in a breath. Her ass and pussy throbbed (no surprise), and her back and legs felt as if she had been beaten with a cane. She hobbled into the bathroom and turned on the light. Despite the pain, she was smiling. Apparently, her purge carried her through to the next day. It was a fucking miracle. She turned her back to the mirror, but there were no bruises, not even one blemish despite their rough play last night. She washed her face and brushed her teeth before she noticed the clothes waiting for her. Jeans and a familiar sleeveless turtleneck and even her bra from Marcus’s house. She didn’t question. She slipped into the clothes and slicked her hair into a bun. She was still decked out in diamonds. It never occurred to her what she must have looked like, fisting him with diamond rings on every finger. It must have been fucking hot. Despite the fact she wore no makeup, she thought she looked damn presentable.
She slipped into her diamond stilettos and winced as the new position tilted her hips, making her calves ache. Holy fuck, next time she would make sure he fucked her on a carpet at least. She walked out of the bedroom and down a short hallway that led into the main part of the penthouse suite, which was now filled with sunlight.
Marcus stood with his back to her, looking out at The Strip as he talked on the phone. He was dressed in a different suit than the one he wore last night. Today’s ensemble was a pale blue number tailored to perfection. She paused to admire the long lines of his body as he set up a meeting for this afternoon and hung up. He turned, showing that he wore a white and blue pinstriped shirt opened at the collar, no tie. He looked amazing.
“You’re awake,” he said as he strode toward her.
“How did you get my clothes?”
“I went home and got them for you.”
“I thought you sent Mickey or Frederick.”
Marcus frowned. “I wouldn’t want another man pawing through your underwear drawer.”
He cupped the side of her face as he kissed her. He tasted sweet and tropical. She slid her tongue into his mouth, seeking more. He gripped her hip and pulled away.
“What did you eat?” she asked.
“Papaya.”
She licked her bottom lip and watched his eyes fixate on her mouth. “Yummy.”
His eyes were mossy green and mesmerizing in the blazing sun.
“How do you feel?”
“I’m a little sore.” Understatement, but he was a worry wort and she didn’t want him to hold back next time. “But I feel marvelous.” She paused and then added, “I’m hungry.”
He searched her eyes. “You’re fine?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know if you’d feel differently this morning.”
“I feel fantastic.”
“I’m glad.”
She cupped his cheek. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, you did everything right. You helped a lot.”
“Always happy to lend a helping hand.”
She tipped her head back and laughed. “And to think I was thinking about hiring a mute gigolo for sex services.”
“Mute?”
His disgruntled expression made her snicker. “Most guys are sexier with their mouths closed.”
“And what about me?”
She pressed her finger against his lips. “You weave magic with that fucking mouth.”
His eyes dilated, and he stepped back. “You’re sore, and you’re hungry. Let’s feed you.”
“Okay.” She reached for the button of her jeans and laughed when he cursed and backed away as if she was contagious. “Kidding.”
The dining table had a fruit tray, toast, oatmeal, and bacon. She winced as she sat and reached for a strip of bacon. Marcus poured her a glass of orange juice and placed an assortment of fruit on a tiny plate. He was careful and deliberate in everything he did whether it was making sandwiches or choosing fruit. She was charmed and smitten and liking him more and more. Marcus was capable of beating his chest with the best of them, but he chose to adopt the opposite of Gavin’s demeanor, which made him more interesting to her.
“You’re a control freak,” she said.
Marcus paused in the act of shaking two pain pills from a bottle. “Excuse me?”
“Last night, you said you learned control at a young age.” She speared a piece of cantaloupe on her fork and raised a brow. “So spill.”
Marcus placed the pills beside her plate. “I didn’t have control over my life when I was younger. The only thing I could control was myself, so that’s what I did.”
She reached for another piece of bacon between pieces of fruit and ignored his grimace. “You mean, when you grew up in foster homes?”
“Yes.”
His tone was perfect—even and smooth. His expression was composed and unruffled. Even his body language was fluid as he spooned oatmeal into a bowl, sprinkled raspberries and blueberries artfully over it, and placed in front of her. Nothing on the surface suggested he was uncomfortable in the least, but she sensed it. She didn’t want to be the girl who thought because he slept with her that he had to spill everything, but she couldn’t help being curious.
“What happened to your parents?”
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