Between the Sheets (9781476775807)

by Cairo

  My stomach drops to my feet.

  Still glaring at me, his lips tighten. “I’ll deal with you tonight.”

  I step back from the elevator allowing it to close, my heart sinking as Marcel’s face disappears from view.

  Ohmygod!

  What the fuck have I done?

  THIRTY-SIX

  Marika

  Nose flaring.

  Jaws tight.

  Marcel is pissed. No. He’s…furious.

  At me.

  That bitch has caused this friction between us.

  And I have allowed it.

  I let her get to me.

  Let her get inside my head.

  Causing me to get bat-shit crazy and lash out at my man.

  Slapping him.

  Blaming him.

  Holding him responsible for what that bitch is doing to us. When in fact he is not culpable. Neither of us is to blame.

  She’s the crazy, desperate one.

  And, yet, I slapped him.

  I am so, so, very sorry for what I’ve done. But I know an apology will not be enough.

  I’ve crossed the line.

  Marcel and I do not fight.

  We do not argue.

  We disagree.

  We talk.

  We make love.

  We fuck.

  Talk again.

  Then fuck again, and again, and again.

  Then talk some more.

  Then fuck all over again.

  We do not yell or scream or disrespect each other.

  But in a blink of an eye, I have allowed this craziness with that…that desperate, emotionally unstable tramp to take me out of character and come at my husband all sideways and crazy.

  The man I love.

  The man I’ve always trusted and respected.

  Nightmare. Definitely a bad fucking dream. Shit like this only happens on television. And in other couple’s lives. Not in ours.

  We’re always so discreet.

  Always so careful in whom we bring to our bed.

  Until this shit…

  “Marcel, I’m sorry,” I whisper, crossing into the sitting area adjacent to our bedroom. It is all I can imagine to say with him sitting there barefoot and bare-chested in his underwear. Boxer briefs.

  I fight to keep from staring at his muscular shoulders and pecs tapered down to rippling stomach ridges.

  I blink back images of his hard body hovering over mine.

  He has a drink in his hand. Rémy. The crystal decanter sits half-full on the table with its Harcourt stopper off, next to the remote for the surround sound.

  “You’re sorry?” He blows out a long breath.

  “I was—”

  He yanks up his hand, stopping me from taking a step toward him. My mouth clamps shut. He’s not done.

  “We brought that broad into our lives. We fucked her. And yeah, the pussy was good. Damn good…”

  I flinch.

  “But do you really think I’d let some random broad, whose only good for suckin’ dick ‘n’ takin’ it in the ass, come between us?”

  I shake my head. “No. I didn’t—”

  “Then why the fuck would you?”

  I blink in surprise. Marcel has never spoken to me in this manner. Never.

  Then again, I’d never given him cause to.

  His jaw clenches and a look of utter fury darkens his eyes.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  “Marcel, baby—”

  “I’m not asking.”

  With a swallow, my fingers fly up to the buttons of my blouse, quickly undoing them. I shrug out of my blouse, allowing it to flutter to the floor.

  My stiffened nipples and dark-chocolate-colored areolas are visible through my ivory lace bra.

  Marcel rakes his graze over my covered breasts, then sucks in a breath. The burning in his stare causes my nipples to pucker tighter. I am tempted to caress them.

  But I know he wants them on display. Not played with.

  “Can we at least talk about—?”

  “The skirt.”

  I attempt to step out of my heels when he stops me. Tells me to leave them on.

  I unfasten my skirt. Slide it down over my hips, the silk-blend material crumpling around my ankles.

  “Take off your bra.” There’s a flicker of lust lighting his eyes despite his clipped tone.

  “Baby, you have to believe—”

  He narrows his gaze, cutting me off again. “You fucked up.” Although his voice is even, ire blazes in his expression. “You understand that, right?”

  I nod, eyes wide.

  Hurt and disappoint flash in his eyes, then they become blatant flares of anger. He’s never been this livid—with me, ever.

  I shift uncomfortably and swallow, unhooking my bra. “Baby, let me—”

  “I’m not tryna hear shit you have to say. Not right now.” He reaches behind his back and retrieves a red silk scarf and a leather ball gag.

  I choke back a groan as realization dawns. I am going to be gagged. And most likely blindfolded.

  I swallow.

  Marcel wants me to submit. He wants to have total control. I am to give my self sweetly over to him. Allow him free rein. There will be no pretending. Not tonight. There will be no exceptions. Not tonight. If I am to make this right between us, it will be Marcel’s way. And I’ll follow his rules. No questions asked. I will cede power, my will, over to him.

  Our gazes lock. This unease between us, this temporary divide, is my doing. And. although Marcel won’t stay mad for long, I’ll need to ride out the storm.

  And hope like hell I don’t get swept up in it.

  I swallow, heart racing.

  No. Marcel won’t use his anger to lash out at me. But he’ll use it to make me never forget.

  That he is my man.

  That I have truly fucked up and crossed a very dangerous line.

  And I’d better think long and hard before ever doing it again.

  Despite the thick tension in the air, I grow wet with desire. And knowing.

  Obedience. Power. Control.

  For as long as Marcel wants it, I am willing to give it to him.

  Until he has forgiven me…

  He brings his drink to his lips, then takes one big gulp. He sets his glass down onto the table, and my mouth waters as he licks his tongue over his lips. I drink in the sight of him. Suddenly I want nothing more than to have my pussy where his tongue has been. Me melting on his tongue. Me coming all over his mouth.

  The thought causes me to groan low.

  “Can we please talk about this?”

  “You slapped me,” he seethes.

  “I know,” I whisper. “I’m—”

  “You let some random piece of ass get you twisted outta pocket.”

  “I know. I—”

  He doesn’t let me finish. “Your ass is mine tonight, Marika.”

  My toes curl in my heels. My pulse quickens. Heat flashes through my ass cheeks.

  The message is clear. He is going to fuck me until my ass burns, until tears spring from my eyes, and I am begging him for forgiveness. He’s going to fuck me slow and deep until he drains me, wrings me out, and I pass out.

  And then when I come to, he is going to fuck me endlessly all over again until I am losing my grip on my own sanity.

  Knowing Marcel, if it is the last thing he does tonight, he is going to make me regret ever doubting him, ever questioning his love, ever second-guessing his commitment. Marcel is going to make me wish I’d never allowed jealousy and doubt to edge over me.

  “I know,” I mutter, feeling my knees buckle.

  When he stands, his long scrumptious dick is rock-hard.

  And my panties are sticking to my folds, my sopping wet pussy quivering, my heated flesh quaking with need.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Marika

  Sweet delight. Blood boiling, body on fire, I surrender to Marcel.

  Give him what he’s demanded of me.

&n
bsp; Total submission.

  Wicked need simmers as I give him complete control. Tonight there are no illusions. No smoke screens. Marcel is too pissed with me for me to toy with him.

  And I won’t.

  So I submit.

  Pussy juices trickle down my inner thighs as I knee-walk over to him. My pelvic muscles tighten at the sight of him.

  I see why that bitch is after my husband.

  Raw energy.

  Burning fire.

  Sexual hunger.

  My nipples tighten. God, yes! The mouthwatering ache causes my body to shiver as I inhale, deep and slow. I can smell him.

  Masculinity.

  The clean scent of soap mixed with the musky heat of his skin. I breathe him in. Savor him as his gaze rolls over my body, settling on my breasts. I can practically see the drool gathering in the corners of his mouth as I inch closer to him. Yes, Marcel is upset with me. But his lust, his overwhelming desire for me, is softening his heart.

  He scowls. “Hurry the fuck up, Marika.”

  Oops. Maybe not…

  I swallow around a lump in my throat.

  When I reach him, Marcel stops me from coming any closer. He stands up and my breath escapes in a long hiss at the sight of his hard dick straining and swelling against the fabric of his boxers. The head of his dick hangs out past the leg of his underwear, causing my lips to quiver at the sight of beads of precum covering its slit.

  He’s excited. The nasty fuck’s turned on by all of this.

  “Yeah, you like seeing that hard-ass dick, huh? Got my shit leakin’.”

  “Yes.”

  “You do that shit to me, Marika. You. Not some random broad.”

  “I know,” I rasp out.

  “Shut the fuck up.” He roughly cups my head in his hands and grinds himself into my face. “I should choke the shit outta you.” I open my mouth. Try to suck him in. My tongue flicks over his hanging dickhead, catching a droplet of his sweet nectar. But it isn’t enough. I need more of him. Want all of him. My hands go up, try to hook my fingers into the waistband of his underwear to free his cock. I feel like I am going to die if I don’t taste him…now.

  Marcel backs away from me, depriving me, leaving my mouth wet and needy. “Nah, fuck that. Greedy ass. Put ya muthafuckin’ hands down.” He smacks my hands away. Then steps back, yanking his boxers down over his hips. “Is this what you want?” He glares at me as his thick, chocolate dick springs upward, pointing like a long, angry arrow.

  My insides suddenly start to shake.

  “Yes,” I manage to say, fighting to keep from reaching out for it. My whole body vibrates with wicked need.

  He shakes his dick at me, then steps forward and slaps me across the lips with it. My mouth snaps open and waters. I extend my tongue and Marcel slams his dick down against my tongue, then back across my opened mouth. I feel like I’ve just been slapped with an expandable baton.

  He steps back from me, taunting me. “You don’t get to put ya muthafuckin’ hands on me, then think you gonna get rewarded with some of this good dick.”

  “I’m s-so—”

  “Nah, shut the fuck up. I want you to watch what you missing out on.”

  He grabs his dick at the base, then bends forward and raises his gaze to meet mine before licking the crown of his cock and drawing himself deep into his mouth.

  For the love of God…

  My groan only emboldens him further to lovingly suck his dick in long, lascivious pulls.

  I nearly cry out in sweet agony when he swallows seven, eight, nine inches of his own dick down into his throat. Everything inside of me explodes watching him tease me—no, no, torture me—like this.

  Denying me his dick! Motherfuck him!

  His head bobs up and down the length of his shaft, then his mouth suckles on the head, licking around his sticky crown every so often.

  Oh, God, yes…

  What a beautiful sight!

  I moan my appreciation. Ache with jealous delight in having a man with a big, long dick. Still I envy his mouth, wishing it were my own mouth engulfing him, my own tongue laving him.

  My cunt muscles twitch, then contract, hungry for the thick heat of his seed. My mouth droops open in waiting anticipation, hoping he’ll be generous enough to share his cum with me. Instead he pulls his wet, shiny dick from out of his mouth and straightens himself, pulling his underwear back up over his hips; most of his dick is now exposed out from the top of his waistband, pressing along the ridges of his stomach.

  I moan in protest, but he only scowls at me, squeezing his swollen cockhead. “This muhfuckin’ dick is angry as fuck. It’s ready to beat you the fuck up.”

  Yes, yes…beat me, daddy! Fuck my pussy up good…

  Marcel leans down and exhales. His breath spreads over my throat, heating my skin and spreading over my breasts. “You disappoint me, Marika; real shit.” He caresses my nipples. “I can’t believe you let some unstable broad get all up in your head like that. I thought we were stronger than that.”

  He speaks so low and slow as he rolls my nipples between his fingers that I am struggling to concentrate on what he is saying. Besides, my mind is still on the imageries of him sucking his own dick, and the idea of him beating my pussy up.

  “I—”

  He twists my nipples. “Not one fuckin’ word. Talking to me is what you should’ve been doing earlier instead of comin’ at me all crazy.” He plucks my nipples. “You don’t get to say shit now.”

  “Marcel, baby…”

  “You will speak when I’m ready to hear you,” he whispers against my ear. Then murmurs something in French as he twists and pinches my nipples.

  I groan as an agonizing heat swallows me whole. I reach between my thighs to soothe the ache pounding in my clit.

  “Nah, fuck that, Marika. Get ya hands away from your pussy. That’s my muthafuckin’ pussy. You don’t get to touch that shit. Ya ass gonna suffer.”

  Reluctantly, I abandon the wet space between my legs.

  Then he tells me to place my hands behind my back and cross them at the wrists. Sweet Jehovah. I do as I am told. Allow him to bind my hands together with the scarf.

  My toes curl. And then a groan gets caught in the back of my throat when Marcel pulls out a crop. A crop!

  Oh, God!

  I search my lust-hazed brain trying to recall when he’d gone into our toy chest and retrieved it, or if it had already been out in the open. I can’t recall.

  “What you did was fucked up. But you gonna learn tonight, baby.”

  My inner walls clench.

  I will never resist him.

  Never.

  Marcel knows this.

  His sexy lips curl as he runs the heel of his palm over the length of his straining bulge. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his already big dick so thick—so, so, huge. Not like this.

  “Marcel, if you’d just let me—”

  His gaze on me darkens. “I told you to keep ya mouth shut, and you still running it, right?”

  I shiver when the tip of the leather crop skims over my flesh.

  “I’m gonna spread you over my knees and whip your ass raw, Marika…”

  My pulse quickens. Arousal surges. Marcel has never whipped my…ass.

  It is not a threat. It’s a promise.

  One he plans on keeping. Marcel is always a man of his word.

  He swats my ass for emphasis.

  Why had I ever doubted him?

  “And then I’m gonna eat that sweet pussy…”

  I moan low in my throat.

  Marcel reaches between my legs, pats the crotch of my cum-sodden panties.

  “Look at ya pussy all wet.” He presses into the fabric with his fingers, then pinches my clit. “All this for me.”

  It isn’t a question.

  He already knows. I am always wet for him.

  He brings his hand to his nose, sniffs, then licks his fingertips.

  And then…

  “I’m gonna fuck you i
n ya ass. I love you, Marika. But tonight, I’ma split ya shit open. You’re gonna learn to never put ya muthafuckin’ hands on me.”

  I groan against the gag. “God, yes…”

  My need for him swells. Hotter. Wetter.

  My God, I wish he’d stop torturing me. Wish he’d dole out my punishment. And just fuck me already!

  I can’t take this anymore.

  The heat is becoming so unbearable.

  I cry out against the gag, “Oh, God! Just fuck me already. Please.”

  My breathing hitches when he reaches for my taut nipples and pinches them hard.

  “You still talking shit, right?”

  My cheeks flush and I bite down on my lip, shaking my head.

  I swallow when I notice his dick twitch and start to swell again.

  Despite everything, I know Marcel’s desires for me are real. As are mine for him.

  He walks over and grabs the ball gag, then stalks back over to me. “I got something for that shit. Open ya mouth.”

  Again, I do as I am told. Do whatever is necessary to make things right with my husband. I open my mouth. Allow him to push the ball into my mouth, fitting it between my teeth, then fasten the leather straps behind my head.

  My eyes widen as Marcel taps the riding crop against his thigh. I swallow hard. Then gasp as he trails the edge of the crop over the hardened peaks of my breasts, causing them to become so painfully rigid that I think they’ll snap open at any second.

  “Tonight, I’ma make you wish you never put ya muthafuckin’ hands on me, baby. I’ma make you wish you never doubted me or ever questioned what we have. And you know I’m a man of my word.”

  He slides the crop along the crack of my ass, causing it to brush the back of my pussy.

  I moan, wind my hips.

  Whap!

  I grunt.

  “Keep ya greedy-ass still. You disrespected me. You knew you had it coming. Punishment. I’ma redden that beautiful ass until it glows fire.”

  If I weren’t already on my knees, I’m sure they’d have buckled at those words.

  “I know—”

  Whap!

  I gasp as he smacks my ass again.

  Lightheaded, tears spring from my eyes.

  I know this is supposed to be punishment. But I love it. Love the sting. Love the burn. Oh, God, yes…