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“You wanted something from me.” Marcus plays with my clit between two fingers. The other hand closes around my throat. “You let me have my way. Let me get you inside the pool. It’s your turn to tell me what you want.”
What I want isn’t clear-cut. The vague notion doesn’t have a face or a body. He did it to me before, this thing I want. But for the life of me, I can’t place my finger on it.
This not-knowing frustrates me. A sudden wave of agitation courses through my body. My mouth snaps shut. My eyes narrow in the slightest.
What’s wrong with me?
“Shh.” His hand on my throat squeezes and loosens its grip. He’s doing it at the same pace he grabs and lets go of my pussy, lulling me into a state of peacefulness. “I have you. You’re safe. Your subconscious struggles to ask for what it needs. You’re scared. And that’s okay.”
“Yes.” I almost cry when he says what I’m too numb to describe. “Yes.”
“We could try another approach.” Marcus’s cock swells behind me.
Heat pools at my core. There’s pressure between my thighs. In my lower abdomen. In my other, tighter hole. I’m not even bothered when Marcus parts his legs and my ass slides to the mosaic tiles on the floor.
I like this new approach already.
“Yes,” I hum.
Manhandling my pliant body, he flips me to face him. He curses low and dangerous as he arranges my legs to straddle him. His hips strain, pushing against me as he settles my hands around his neck.
“I’m going to give you what you want.” After Marcus fastens his hold on my waist, he levels our gazes. “Going to put my cock in your mouth.”
The water, a voice screams inside my head.
“Help.”
Marcus shows one of his rare signs of emotion while I’m in a trance. One that isn’t anger or tenacity. The corners of his eyes crinkle, his lips press tight together. He’s concerned.
Instead of freaking me out, his apprehension soothes my frayed nerves. He’s considering how to approach this without hurting me.
Eventually, his features morph into those of Dr. Kingston. The impenetrable mask of the detached psychiatrist is back in place.
Sharp jaw clenched. Gaze detached.
“Little doll.”
When I don’t respond, he takes charge of me. His doll.
Marcus shoves me back on his legs, in the direction of his knees. Once I’m there, he cups the back of my neck, guiding my head down to his groin.
The outline of his erection is visible through his briefs. The thick head, the girth, his length. I feel the smooth and rough strokes of his thumb on my scalp. How he controls me and loves me on the way down.
A part moan, part sigh passes past my lips.
Only then does he speak. “Does my cock look like it’s underwater to you?”
My vision sharpens at his question. Beyond the veil of panic, my mind makes sense of what my eyes grasp. I’m able to see the shape of his cock. It’s not blurred.
The water level here reaches the middle of his thigh. Safe.
“No,” I whisper.
Marcus tilts my head up, and my eyes meet his. “Good girl. Now, how do you feel about having my cock in your mouth?”
While he talks, Marcus moves one hand to my wrist. He curls his fingers lightly around it and places the heel of my hand on top of his briefs. On his cock. My fingertips touch the taut skin of his stomach.
He throbs for me.
