The smooth, black leather interior of Marcus’s car does nothing to subdue my desire for him.

I feel hot, and the walls are caving in around me.

I’m not used to being so vulnerable with anybody, much less someone as hot as he is.

What was I thinking getting into his car like this? Going to his turf?

As much as I tried to get out of going anywhere with him, he was so damn persistent that I had to say yes. I’m attracted to him, after all. What’s wrong with having a little fun?

I try to relax, knowing that no matter what, I can depend on myself to escape.

He drives to his place. The entire time, I see that his cock is hard and throbbing beneath his pants. It’s definitely big―at least 10 inches long and very, very thick

I’m tempted to lean over and just start sucking it right here in the car. But I hold back. I might as well not show all my cards up front so fast. I still don’t know why he’s interested in me.

We get to his place. He lives in a modest but chic building. Luckily, he’s on the top floor so there’s somewhat of a view, but not much.

I make a mental note to research everything about Marcus and the organization that he says he’s working for once I get home. I’ll easily find all the dirt there is on him.

His place is small but super posh. I admire the paintings displayed on the walls. He obviously has a keen eye for art, which is something I respect. Not everyone has that.

I walk around and examine all his belongings on display, trying to find proof of who he really is and if he’s being transparent with me.

Keeping up my guard is important. I never trust anybody until I do a full background check on them, and even then, it’s unlikely I’ll ever fully trust them. That’s just how I work. I learned a long time ago that you take care of yourself first.

Marcus is calling in for delivery while he opens a bottle of wine. He pours me a glass, and I’m thankful. I love wine.

Once he’s off the phone, he starts off asking me about the activism I do.

“Why are you in it?” he asks.

“Into what?” I say.

“Your activism. It’s obviously your passion. Your profile is pretty strong, and I see that you have a lot of experience in fighting the good fight. Why do you do it?” he continues to prod.

I decide to tell him a little bit of the truth. It won’t hurt to let him know some of my backstory. Besides, this guy is so hot that I want to do anything I can to make him feel closer to me so that I can get closer to that giant cock.

“Well, I’ve had the unique position of seeing everything that’s going on in terms of the 1% being in control of all the capital. I grew up very poor. I had to fend for myself.

“I was an orphan. No one wanted me. I saw firsthand how the poor struggle and how banks and other financial institutions make them even poorer instead of helping them like they promise. It’s all smoke and mirrors. It’s all politics.

“And it’s all away for the rich to get richer. I don’t believe in that. I believe in fighting against that and helping people at the bottom. I guess that’s just my truth.”

He takes a long moment to respond.

Shit. I don’t know why I just told him all that. Like, it just came out.

I feel more exposed than I’ve ever been. Now he knows that I’m an orphan and that I was poor my whole life. Why did I tell him that?

“Hey, thanks for telling me that. It means a lot. But I think you should know that the banks don’t think it’s a problem. It’s business and they have policies.”

I take the opportunity to educate him, “Yeah, well their policies should be changed because if it’s not for the people, their clientele who endorse them and keep them in business, then that very businesses would fail. They would be nothing.”

I take another sip of my wine, and I’m starting to feel a little bit tipsy. It’s not a bad feeling.

“So suddenly the people are in charge of the banks?” he says. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around, Katy? Do you think the banks and corporations owe the people everything they have? Shouldn’t people make their own fortunes?”

Why is he so upset about this? I thought he was into me because of my activism. He seems to be siding with the banks and the other financial institutions, and I can’t figure it out.

He obviously doesn’t know what I know. He hasn’t been on the streets, cold, shivering, and alone. He doesn’t understand that people need to be helped no matter what.

“Then why are you asking me all this, Marcus? I thought you were interested in my beliefs. I thought we were of the same mindset. Obviously, you don’t know what you’re talking about, and this conversation will get us nowhere,” I say, suddenly angry at his ignorance.

The conversation is starting to get heated, and the wine is kicking in.

As soon as I mention the activism he backs off.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m just trying to play devil’s advocate. I ask these tough questions of everybody. I want to know why people do what they do. You obviously believe in your activism and I want to know why. You just explained it. And I agree with you...on some things.”

With the chemistry between us igniting and the alcohol mixing with my adrenaline, I’m starting to feel very turned on. So much so that I have the sudden urge to make myself come just to stand another minute of being around him.

Marcus is sitting at the island next to me on a barstool. He’s close. He’s so close that I could probably trail my fingers down his strong chest and rippling abs.

But I don’t. I hold back. I need to keep my wits about me.

I break away from the intense moment and say, “Where’s the powder room?”

I need to take a moment for myself, a moment to get my head on straight. Lust is starting to take over my mental faculties...

He points to one part of the apartment, and I walk that way. I start to calm down. I tell myself that I shouldn’t feel attracted to him, especially because I can’t trust anybody at this moment.

He could be out to get me. I never know who my enemy is. When you’re a hacker like I am and you’ve done dirty deeds such as the ones I’ve done, anybody can be the enemy. I mean, I hope it’s not Marcus, but I still have to protect myself.

At the same time, I can’t help myself.

Once I’m inside his powder room, I reach down and slide my hand under my thong. I play with myself, imagining Marcus here with me. I need to come, to release some of this internal rage and frustration and lust.

It’s all mixing into one thing, and I can’t be around him without letting out some of the building steam.

I’m thinking of him, and it feels so fucking good, and oh god, I’m about to come. Then I look up and realize that the door to the bathroom has been open this entire time and that Marcus is watching me.

Oh my god.

Then things take an interesting turn.

He walks right fucking in with fire in his eyes and proceeds to join in the fun.