THEN

Marcus

She’s perfect.

Not only is she a knockout, she’s got a stable job. The best part, she’s struggling. My plan will work; it will work because I’m sure she’d do anything she could to get the lifestyle required to help her mother. Including falling for, and marrying, someone who supports her. Call me selfish, go ahead.

It’s not selfish; it’s smart.

A win-win, really.

I open the door to my Mercedes, and she slides onto the leather seat. Her short, red dress rides up her creamy thighs, showing me a hint of what’s beneath. Katia is one hell of a babe. I don’t get women who look like her often; most of them are fake with their blond hair and double-D plastic tits. Not her; no, she’s as natural as they come. Thick blond hair, the most dazzling eyes I’ve ever fuckin’ seen and a tiny, tight body that’s definitely not enhanced.

If anything, she’s smaller that most of the girls I fuck.

I’d go so far as saying she resembles a pixie. The top of her head barely reaches the base of my chin.

Images of throwing her against my wall, her tiny body crushed by mine, my cock driving in and out of her tiny, tight pussy. Fuck, she won’t be hard to seduce, and it certainly won’t be a task. Most men would feel like assholes for what I’m about to do, but in the end it’s giving her a better life, and giving me a business that I’ve been working for.

As I said, win-win.

I shut the door and go around to the driver’s side, sliding in. Katia is staring at me with fuck-me eyes. Shit; she wants it as much as I do. I’m used to expensive women throwing themselves at me, wanting my cash, wanting my house for a night, and enjoying me, but this girl? This girl is staring at me as if she wants to run her tongue over my body, slowly.

“Fuck me,” I rasp. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, and I’ll take you right here in this fuckin’ car.”

She bites her lip.

I fuckin’ die.

This is going to be fun.

~*~*~*~

KATIA

His house.

Wow.

It’s bigger than any place I’ve ever been to. It’s not even a house; it’s a mansion. I find out why it’s so big when he tells me he runs his business out of it, that it’s the main office as well as where he lives. One end of the massive twelve-bedroom mansion has been decked out as offices. There are also five massive sheds that he told me house the machinery he hires out. Successfully, apparently.

Again, wow.

He leads me through the tiled, ginormous house. There’s expensive artwork scattered about, as well as furniture I’ve never seen, or heard of. It all looks uncomfortable, as rich people’s furniture usually does. I’d rather curl up on my faded yellow sofa any day. When we reach his room, I gasp. It’s bigger than my apartment. His bed is bigger than my God damned apartment.

“I . . . wow,” I breathe.

He shrugs his coat off and unfastens his tie, sliding it off from around his neck. Then he pops the top button to his shirt, exposing more bronzed skin. “Can I get you a drink?” he asks, heading to the large bar set up in the corner of his bedroom.

“Please,” I say, taking a seat on the plush maroon sofa tucked into the corner.

He pours two drinks, and then hands me one as he joins me on the sofa. His thigh grazes mine as he brings the amber liquid to his lips, sipping it as he watches me. I realize his eyes are a really dark brown, so dark they look black.

“Tell me how you want this to go, precious.”

Precious. God.

“I’ll leave that to you,” I murmur, the alcohol swimming in my head.

“Jesus,” he growls.

He puts a glass down and reaches out, taking mine. Then his fingers are sliding down my cheek. This man is dangerous, of that I don’t doubt, yet his touch is so seductive. I can’t pull my eyes from his as his fingers slide down my neck, causing little tingles to break out over my skin. He runs the tips over my collarbone, before taking them all the way back up until his hand has slipped behind my neck. He pulls me closer and I close my eyes, waiting for his lips.

The heat of his mouth is so close it’s washing over my skin, but he doesn’t kiss me. I open my eyes and his are still locked on mine, his lips only a centimeter from mine. Why isn’t he kissing me? This is torture, pure torture. Instead, he slides his tongue out and touches it to my bottom lip. Holy hell. That’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever done to me. I whimper and he finally closes the distance between us.

The moment his lips connect with mine, and his stubble scratches the skin around my mouth, I lose it. It’s such an intense moment, so erotic and damned sexy. I sink into him, my fingers going to his shirt, flicking some of the buttons as his tongue invades my mouth, tangling with mine, the scorching heat sending flames right to my core. My toes curl as the kiss deepens.

This man is going to rock my world, of that I’m sure.

He pulls his mouth from mine and his lips travel down over my neck. My nipples turn into hard peaks as his mouth kisses a scorching path down my neck, over my shoulders, and then he covers my nipples with his opened mouth through my clothes. The heat of his breath burning through my dress and over my already hard nipples has my back arching. I thrust my hips up and he catches them with his hands as his lips continue to devour my breast.

This man doesn’t do things by halves. He’s devouring every inch of me, even before my clothes have left my body. No wham, bam, thank you ma’am, here, no, Marcus is greedy and I like it. My back presses further into the sofa as he continues his nipple torture. My hips thrust, but he keeps a steady hold on them, making sure my ass remains pressed into the plush cushions. I close my eyes, letting out a long, ragged breath as he finally reaches for the hem of my dress, sliding it up inch by inch.

I wish he would hurry up.

Shit, no, I wish he would slow down so this doesn’t have to end.

“Marcus,” I breathe.

“Don’t speak, Katia,” he says, his voice low and husky, “unless I tell you to.”

Whoa. Okay.

“But . . .”

He jerks my hips so suddenly I’m caught off guard. Before I know what’s happening, he’s got me flat on the couch, my head pressing into the cushions as he drops his body over mine. He brings his face close to mine; his dark eyes are so damned intense it takes everything inside me to hold his gaze. “I said,” he growls, flashing white teeth as he speaks, “don’t speak.”

I swallow.

Damn.

“If you do,” he says, his voice dropping. He slides his pointer finger down my chest, trailing it between my cleavage and down my belly, “I’ll make you wish you didn’t.”

“In a good or bad way?”

His eyes flash to mine and he bares his teeth. God, this man is dangerously sexy. “Do you want to come, Katia?”

Well, I’m here, aren’t I?

“I didn’t come for a picnic,” I mutter.

His lip quirks and he leans down, pressing his lips to my ear. There, he whispers, “I very much came for a picnic, and the first thing I’m going to eat, precious, is you.”

Oh. My.

I clamp my lips shut, because I most certainly want him to eat me. He nips my earlobe, causing little trembles to leave my body, before continuing with the removal of my dress. He slides it up, leaning down to press kisses up my stomach as he moves it. My skin prickles and my legs automatically go over to tangle with his. He makes light work of my dress, flicking it off and throwing it onto the floor.

Then he takes a moment to stare. I squirm under his gaze, because it’s that intense. His eyes slide over my body, starting from my face and moving down until he stops at my panties. His lip quirks and I know exactly why. My thong has a kitty on it, with a caption: Hello Pussy. It’s meant to be a funny rip-off of Hello Kitty in the sexy-panties kind of way.

My cheeks flush and I keep my mouth closed. No need to try and explain that one. Marcus finally moves his gaze back to my face and his eyes are full of lust and danger. He reaches down, cupping my breasts in his big hands and a whimper escapes my lips. That feels amazing. He leans down, bringing his lips to mine again and I let him, devouring every moment that I can taste him. He tastes amazing.

His hands roughly fondle my breasts, before slipping around and removing my bra. He flicks it off and then, without warning, wrenches his mouth from mine and drops his face into my cleavage. He sucks, licks and bites my flesh and nipples. I’m squirming and whimpering desperately by the time he starts moving down my body, sucking my skin into his mouth as his fingers curl into my panties.

Meanwhile, he’s still got all of his clothes on.

He tugs at my panties and before I know it, they’re gone. Then his hands are pressing to my knees and he pushes my legs open. Oh God. He makes a throaty sound, before murmuring, “Sweet fuckin’ pussy, Katia.”

The way he says it, his voice is a low husk, slightly rumbling but delectable. He lowers his mouth between my legs and breathes over me, puff after puff of air, brushing against my exposed pussy. While he’s taunting me like this, his finger is sliding up and down the outside of my pussy lips, making my core tighten and my depths become wet and ready. I squirm, clenching my jaw, wanting him to do something. The desperation is killing me.

But I won’t beg.

I’m not a beggar.

He must sense this, because I swear, I can feel him smile against my pussy as he finally closes his mouth over my clit. He sucks it into his mouth like a God damned vacuum, taking it in and out, sucking forcefully. I buck beneath him, digging my fingernails into the soft flesh of my palms as I gasp his name. He devours me like I’m his last meal and he’s about to walk death row.

Then, just as I’m about to come, he pulls back. I open my mouth, then close it, then whimper desperately. He looks down at me, and God, his beauty will never get old. He’s the kind of man you would happily look at for the rest of your life. His dark eyes are sparkling with humor, and I know right away he’s proud that he’s left me hanging.

“What was that for?” I breathe.

“Talking.”

Simple. Straight to the point. I get the feeling Marcus is like this all the time.

I don’t answer. I don’t because he’s testing me. He wants me to answer him, to throw sass, but let me tell you . . . I am not missing out on another orgasm Marcus Tandem is offering. Hell to the no. With a pleased growl, Marcus slowly undresses. The tie goes first, then the white shirt. I gasp when I get a good look at the tattoos on his chiseled, smooth, olive chest.

He’s got a massive, circular design over his left pec. It looks slightly tribal and I won’t deny that it’s hot. Then he’s got more Celtic-like designs going down the left side of his body, yet the right is completely ink free, except for the design curling up and around his neck. Jesus, he’s hot. I move my eyes from his tattoos and take in his exceptionally muscled body. He’s not too big, not too small. He’s perfectly built, having everything a man should have.

Then he drops his pants.

And I see right away he’s got far more than any man should have.

My lips part and I gasp as I take in his thick, hard cock. He doesn’t make any move to hide it, or shy away, which only confirms that Marcus Tandem is a player. No man is that confident otherwise. He stands before me, as if letting me take him in. He’s allowing me to paint a perfect mental image in my mind. And I am. Boy, I most certainly am.

He’s to die for.

That’s not even an exaggeration.

His cock is thick, hard and long. There are four little barbells weaved through the mushroom-shaped head, and I instantly wonder how they’ll feel driving in and out of my pussy. At that very thought, I become wetter. I want to clench my legs together, but the way Marcus is looking at me tells me he likes what he sees. I like what I see. I guess we’re in the same boat.

“Put your fingers in your pussy,” he rasps, breaking the silence.

I blink at him. He’s in front of me, standing, perfectly naked, and I’m laying on his couch with nothing but my heels on and my legs are spread wide. Now he wants me to . . . finger myself?

“What?” I breathe.

“Fingers, in your pussy.”

His brown eyes hold mine, and I can see he’s serious. God, I’ve never done anything like that in front of a man before. I want to, though. After all, I’m never going to see Marcus again; what will it hurt? Taking a deep, steadying breath, I slowly lower my hand until I reach my exposed flesh. I dip my finger in, finding my swollen clit, and I begin massaging it.

Marcus curls his hand around his cock and starts stroking softly, his eyes never leaving mine. This is alarming, in so many ways. Firstly, he’s not watching my fingers. Secondly, his eyes look as though they can see into my very soul. My lips part on a whimper as my clit jerks to life, needing to release, still raw from his mouth being there only moments ago.

“Slide your finger inside,” he orders.

I do as he asks, slipping a finger inside while continuing to rub my clit. My back arches as my orgasm builds, and I pray to the heavens he’ll let me have this one.

“Look at your nipples,” he growls. “So fuckin’ hard. Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” I pant

“Thinkin’ about me?”

“God, yes.”

“You want my cock, Katia?” he purrs.

Jesus, the way he says my name. The way it rolls off his tongue. It has my moan clogging in my throat and my eyes rolling back, as my orgasm nears.

“Watch my cock when you come,” he demands and my eyes focus back on him.

I stare at his cock, relishing in the way his large hand moves over it, stroking so softly it’s almost lazy. It’s beautiful, though, and in a moment I’m coming. My back arches and I push my breasts into the air, gasping as my body trembles with pleasure. I don’t have the chance to even finish my last shudder before Marcus is over me, his cock gliding against my flesh, his body pressing mine into the sofa.

He reaches over, fumbles about for a second and then comes back up with a condom. His eyes pin me with feral intent as he tears the packet with his teeth and pulls the condom out. He reaches down, rolls it over his cock and then his mouth is on mine again, hard and deep. His tongue probes and his kiss becomes intense. I return the intensity until we’re kissing with a fevered frenzy that has my mind spinning. Without warning, he takes hold of his cock and slides inside me.

He does it painfully, beautifully, amazingly slow. I moan into his mouth and he catches it, kissing me so hard my lips feel as though they’re going to bruise. His hands go down to cup my breasts, and he uses them to control his thrusting. I press my hips up, taking him deeper, spreading my legs wider. He fucks me perfectly; not hard, not soft, just right where I need him.

Neither of us says anything. The only sounds in the room are his panting grunts and my whimpers as my body takes me higher and higher, bringing me to the edge. I want to come, shamefully fast. I pull my lips from his and close my eyes, clenching my jaw as I try to hold it back. Marcus growls, low and deep, and removes his hands from my breasts. He lowers them, gripping my hips and he starts fucking me harder.

“Marcus,” I finally breathe, unable to hold it back.

He says nothing; he doesn’t need to. He gives it all without a damned word. Besides, he’s not the kind of man to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. I know that even after a few hours. My mouth opens on a cry as he tilts his hips and finds that spot. He hisses, I scream and then my body is exploding beneath him. His fingers bite into my hips as he continues on through my clenching, his thrusts slowing as he pushes forward.

Then he slides out of me, lifts me up and throws me over the back of the sofa. He gets on his knees behind me, presses a flat palm to my lower back and drives his cock back into my depths. Holy mother-fucking shit. I can’t even gasp; my voice has run off and hidden itself deep, deep inside my body. All I can do is throw my head back, open my mouth and shake as he fucks me like I’ve never been fucked.

In minutes I’m coming again.

I didn’t even know that was possible.

Marcus rides me until I feel his cock swell inside me, and then he roars to the ceiling as he explodes inside me. I gasp finally, and my fingers curl into the sofa as I feel him milking his cock inside me. After a solid few minutes, he pulls out and the sofa shifts as he gets off it. I turn, slowly sliding down until I’m sitting. God, that was . . . I can’t even . . . there are just no words.

Marcus disappears into the bathroom, and I hear water running. A moment later he returns, handing me a warm washcloth. I stare at it, then at him. What does he want me to do with that? Clean him? He must see my confusion, because he murmurs in a deep, sexy voice, “Clean yourself.”

Right.

Clean myself.

I’ve never had a man take care of me after sex before, it’s kind of...nice.

I take the cloth and stand, rushing into the bathroom. I close the door behind me and stare at the massive bathroom. Well then, Marcus certainly isn’t suffering in life. This bathroom is bigger than my bedroom and bathroom combined. That’s sad. It’s all dark polished tiles and masculine intensity. There’s a massive bath that I could swim in, and a shower with twin heads. Two sinks are set in a beautiful marbled stone counter.

I walk over, staring at myself in the mirror. Nice, my mascara is running. I look like a freshly fucked raccoon. Pouting, I use the warm cloth to clean up my face. Then I deal with the rest of me. My pussy is sensitive as I run the washcloth over it. Marcus knows how to use his dick in a way I’ve never experienced in a man before.

Probably because all the men I’ve been with haven’t been players.

Marcus is good, because he’s probably fucked half of the United States.

Lucky country.

I finish cleaning up and head back out to the room. Marcus is sitting on the sofa, black pants back on, no shirt. He’s got a glass of whiskey in his hand, and when I step out, he looks up. The ice in the glass rattles as he brings it to his lips, studying me as he sips the amber liquid. I feel suddenly self-conscious, and I quickly rush around, finding my panties and bra. I put them on and fetch my dress.

“Don’t put that on,” he says.

I turn to him. “Why not? I thought . . .”

“We’re not done.”

We’re not?

“Ah . . .”

“Over here, now,” he orders.

“Okay,” I say, putting my hands up. “Pretty sure we’ve got our wires crossed. That was great sex; I mean, seriously, amazing, but that’s where it ends. Now I leave and dream the rest of my life about how fucking awesome it was.”

“The bed. Now.”

Right, so he has hearing difficulties.

“You’re a player.” I laugh nervously. “You do this enough to know how it goes.”

“Yes,” he answers, sounding almost . . . bored.

“I’m sure you’ve got a list up to your . . . your . . .”

“Sixty-seven.”

I stare at him, mouth open. “What?” I gasp.

“Sixty-seven women have been in my bed.”

Oh. Shit.

“Are you always so . . .” I gulp. “. . . honest?”

He stares at me and says in a clear voice. “No.”

I blink at him.

“Now, get back into the bed. I’m not done. Not even close.”

I do as he asks.

I get back in the bed.