He’s pulling me into a current. I’m drowning in him.
And I like it.
Zing.
Against my lips, he utters, “I want you to come up to my room.” He places soft, open-mouth kisses onto my lips, and then playfully chews my bottom lip. “Say no.”
What?
I ask through a soft croak, “What?”
Never stopping his delicious assault on my mouth, he whispers, “Don’t do it. Just say no.”
He sounds desperate. Almost...begging.
The thought of separating myself from him right now makes me want to weep. My chest tightens. My arms lock around him. “But I want t—”
He cuts me off, apprehension lacing his voice, “Please, Cat. Say no.” Leaning his forehead on mine, he mutters, “Don’t make me be that guy. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.” He pauses. “I will.”
I speak softly, but clearly, “You don’t have to worry. I don’t have any expectations of you, Marco.”
His eyes flash. “You should. A girl like you should have expectations. And you should set ‘em high. Don’t you settle, kitten, not for anyone. Especially not me.”
...Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil...
Dear Lord, offer me protection from who I need it most.
Protect me from myself.
I press a soft, slow kiss to his full lips. “Take me to bed, Marco.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Fuck,” Marco groans as I kiss my way down his jawline, to just under his ear.
Somehow, we manage to make our way up off the floor and down the hall to the rooms I have always known were for members of Mirage to stay if they wished to live onsite. Bob and Frankie stay in a room on the second floor, which has its own exit. Ari stays in a room on the opposite side of the building, an office she converted into a bedroom away from everyone else. Clark stays in one of the rooms we are stumbling towards, and I silently pray it’s far enough away he won’t hear us moaning and groaning—as we are now.
One of his arms is wrapped around me, holding me pressed to him, and the other is holding what’s left of the bottle of wine. I hold his face in both hands as I press kisses all over whatever I can reach.
Every now and again, he stops and grips my hip with one hand, grinding his hard length into me. And every time he does this, my mouth opens, and a soft sigh escapes me. My breath hitches. My ni**les bead as he runs his tongue across my bottom lip, showing me how much he wants me. He growls low in his throat as his hips jerk involuntarily.
Heat blooms in my middle. My core clenches. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been in my life. He feels wonderful. He feels better than I dreamt.
He feels better than I ever remember feeling with James.
And I feel powerful.
All at once, I understand why some women choose to use their sexuality to get what they want. It seems so easy. So simple. So gratifying. A victimless crime, if you will.
I wonder, in a moment of sheer lust, if I will somehow be able to incorporate my newfound sexuality into my job.
Marco bumps us into the wall, and I collide with him none too softly. I chuckle into his mouth, and when I feel his lips curve into a smile, I could die.
My heart skips a beat.
It’s then that I realise women who use their sexuality for gain miss out on the small but important things, like belly-flutters, gentle touches and secret smiles. And I want those things.
He loosens his hold on me, reaches behind him and opens what I now understand is a door we’re pressed against. We almost tumble inside, and before we can go any further, Marco slams the door shut and pushes me back up against it. “Stop me, Cat.”
“No,” I say firmly.
He grasps my hip with one hand, and with the other, he uses his fingertips to mark a blazing trail down my collarbone, the valley between my br**sts, lower still, ‘til his fingers rest below my belly button at my pubic bone.
My eyes open with a start. My breath seizes.
Zing.
“Touch me.” My voice sounds hoarse, even to me.
But he doesn’t. His heavy breathing fills the room. I don’t breathe at all.
He looks torn. I lift my hands to his chest and whisper, “What is it?”
“I’m still trying to figure out if touching you is worth my life.”
We stand, eyeing each other for a long while. I hold my breath. I feel the beginnings of rejection starting to seep in. Dread turns me cold for a single moment before his touch fans the flame inside of me once more.
His fingertips graze over my mound so lightly I wonder if he’s touching me at all. I get my confirmation when he cups me gently. My head flies back so quickly it hits the door with a thud. Eyes closed, my hands at Marco’s chest grip the material of his black shirt and fist it tightly.
My chest heaves with every heavy breath, and I wonder how I can feel this way from a simple touch, with so little effort. I quickly deduce it’s not the touch, but the person who is delivering it. His warm lips press slow, calculated kisses to my jaw. His hand starts a slow back-and-forth rubbing motion over me, and I can’t hold it in—I moan out loud.
Without meaning to, my legs clench together tightly. Loosening my hold on him, I lower my hand to his and pull it away from me. Marco sighs—not in annoyance, but in relief.
“I want more,” I whisper shakily.
He stops a moment, searching my face. “You sure you’re not doing this because of Clark? I can be your rebound if you need one, but are you sure you’re okay with it?”
I keep my eyes on his, take his hand and slide it into my panties. Using my own hand to navigate his, I slowly rub his fingers up and down through the wetness there, and I watch his eyes close, a pained expression crossing his face. I lean forward an inch and nip his chin before kissing the same spot. “You did this to me. Not Clark.” I kiss his lips. Once. Twice. Three times. “Now, fix it.”
His eyes open and his brows rise in surprise. Then that smirk I love appears. “Yes, ma’am.”
Pressure on my pleasure centre has me gasping. “Oh, God.” My knees shake as my body jerks from stimulation I’ve never felt before. I never understood what the fuss was about when it comes to sex.
I’m beginning to understand.
A swarm of feelings courses through me, some contradicting others, but overall, an immense feeling of happiness washes over me. He works me gently, but firmly. My breathing quickens. Slowly, then quickly. I whimper and squirm against his hand. Quicker still, then before I know it...
“Oh, oh, oh!” My eyes shoot open, my mouth rounds in an O and I pulse uncontrollably, clenching around his fingers.