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I’m not my pussy. I’m not my breasts. Nor am I my wet lips and heavy limbs.
I’m Marcus’s.
“Beautiful. My beautiful doll.” Too fast for me to comprehend, his brow furls and his voice whips me. “What. Of. Blue. Eyes?”
At his question, a door appears before my eyes. Behind them, really. I can’t actually see it, but I’m aware of its existence.
There’s a man in black security clothes standing there with his hands clasped at his crotch, military-style.
There are also three locks that have been installed in case Mr. Faceless military man fails somehow.
“He knows what he’s looking for,” the faceless guard snaps. “He wants you to say it. He wants to scare you. I won’t fucking let him.”
“Not… He’s not after me,” I mutter, addressing the guard. “He’s after you.”
“Who’s there?” Marcus demands. He’s less ruthless, more caring. More possessive. He’s worried. About me. “Is that blue eyes?”
“Ry’s not here,” I whisper, my lips parting at the end of the sentence.
“Except she is.” The faceless guard sounds disgruntled. I don’t understand why.
“Rylan’s there?” I’m curious. Then again, she’s my best friend. It’s only natural she’ll be there where my memories are stored.
The faceless man takes a hesitant step to the side.
Marcus curls a hand around my neck. “Is she?”
I must’ve spoken to both of them at once. Huh.
“It’s just faceless.” My attention returns to Marcus who’s also playing with my nipple, not my pussy. That’s nice too.
Marcus’s eyes bore into mine. He’s digging into my brain, and I let him.
“What are you hiding?” Marcus asks. Except he’s not asking me.
“What are you hiding?” My mouth echoes the faceless man’s question.
“This isn’t how today’s going to go.” Marcus is stronger. Marcus is a gentle hurricane. Marcus’s voice pushes the guard, who stumbles to the floor. “You’ll”—he presses my clit while his other hand tightens on my throat. It’s the best feeling ever—“stop holding back. Stop keeping things from Leighton.”
“You won’t be happy about what you find here.” The guard sneaks his hand into his pants pocket. He’s getting the keys out, despite his obvious apprehension. “I’m protecting you. Why does he have to ruin everything?”
“I’m freeing you, not ruining things for you,” Marcus answers the guard.
He hears our conversation. Neat.
Or is it?
Oh, well. Could’ve been worse. I could’ve confessed to stealing Marcus’s shaving razor and masturbating with the handle last summer.
“Dirty girl.”
Shit, I said that out loud too.
“Yes, you did say that out loud.” Marcus slithers down my body. His tongue at my clit. “I can’t hold back, Leigh. I have to touch you. Have to make you come on my tongue.”
“Marcus, he’s holding the key,” I gasp. Or moan. Something.
“Good.” His tongue works me. His mouth sucks me. I can’t stop him or the way I’m feeling. Can’t. “Maybe being at my mercy will be enough to command the fucking door open.”
