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“Shh. Hold my hand.” I take his offered hand and he rests our joined fingers over my heart. Pillowing his head on me again blocks me from watching his other hand. Soft strokes brush through my au natural pubic hair. I haven’t trimmed or waxed in ages and I worry he’ll be turned off.
“You know, Bailey,” he says as he twirls a fingertip against my seam. “I’ve never understood why women find it necessary to significantly groom this part of their body. I’d rather play like this than touch any oddly shaped buzz cut.”
I giggle at his description.
“That’s better, beautiful.” His finger parts me, unerring in his search for my clit. He dips his other fingers lower. “Oh yeah, baby. I knew you were wet for me. Spread your legs a little more. Ah, that’s it.”
While his thumb strums the tight bundle of nerves he strokes a finger inside. “Is this good? Tell me.”
He stills until I answer, his fingers hovering at my entrance. “Yes. Very.”
“Want more?”
I sob out a “yes,” and my hips jerk, seeking his touch. Without a word, he picks up the rhythm, curving his fingers to trace my overly sensitive inner nerves. His thumb circles and teases. He kisses just above my pubic bone, nipping and laving my skin.
“I need… I need…” I can’t find the words so I take the hand I’m holding and press it over my distended nipple.
Dragging his tongue over my belly, he turns his face toward me. “That’s it, baby. You play with the other one, too. Show me what you like. How you touch yourself.”
So far gone in sensation, I don’t question the demand that ratchets me even higher. The only things I know are his hands, one pinching my nipple, the other fingering me toward a powerful orgasm. And his mouth, moving against my skin with words of encouragement I don’t understand.
He lifts his head. “Come for me, my beautiful Bailey.” His voice is harsh and guttural. “I need to see your face as you come on my hand. Hear you. Come, baby. It’s time. Bailey. Now.”
The tight springs inside me shatter. Clenching my teeth I groan and gasp my release. Once my tremors still, he carefully eases from my body, then pulls me up to sit between his thighs. The hard length of his cock presses against my hip.
Holding my gaze, he licks his fingers. “Better than wild plums,” he sighs then wraps his hand in the hair at the back of my neck and angles my head for his long, leisurely kiss.
“Marcus,” I sigh.
His body jerks, his back straightens, and his hand flexes against my scalp.
“What’s wrong?”
The silence lasts for five breaths before he says, “Nothing, beautiful.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and nuzzle his earlobe. “Then it’s your turn.”
He shakes his head and slides away from me. “Not now.”
Eyeing the outline of his hard cock, I lick my lips and pout to cover my sudden insecurity. Doesn’t he want me to touch him? “Why not?”
An odd uncertainty fills his expression. He’s always been confident and self-assured. Except when— “Is the music coming back?”
His brows draw together. “No, why do you ask?”
Now I’ve probably overstepped, but I won’t backtrack. If all he wanted was to see if he could get me off and add me to his conquest list, I can accept that. Just because he’s famous doesn’t mean he’s different than any other guy who wants to make it with a fat chick. Despite the sting of tears, I will not cry nor allow my emotions to show in a wavering voice so I keep my response to two words. “You’re distant.”
“I’m sorry, Bailey. It’s just… can we go back to the winery?”
The winery. Not my apartment. Not his rooms. What did I expect? “Sure. I need to spread the plums out in flat baskets for storage. Some will need a little more ripening before I can use them.”
Struggling to tug up my soaked panties and fasten my jeans, I rise to my knees. I ignore Mars’ offer of help and stand with the blanket clutched to my chest. Dried grass and dirt stuck to the back scratch my exposed midriff and boobs before I straighten my shirt. “Bring the thermos, will you?” I call over my shoulder as I head toward the ATV.
I will not allow Marcus Kane to hurt me.
eleven
Archer
