Page 56 of Marcus

“Would you like me to beg?”

Marcus’s lips titled upward in one corner, that wicked smirk of his making her ache between her legs in a way she would never be able to soothe. “I would—yes.”

Cella didn’t even have to think about it.

Not really.

The words slipped out so easily.

“I want you to fuck me, Marcus. Please, fuck me.”

She dragged in a lungful of his unique scent, her mouth watering from what she was sure would come next, but he always had a way of surprising her. This time wasn’t any different, but a thrill shot through her all the same when he replied, “Once you get on your knees and show me how badly you want me to fuck you, then we’ll see what I can do for you, mia tesoro.”

Her hand stilled on his cock. He pressed a fleeting kiss to her lips. His grip on her finally loosened when she lowered to her knees in front of the closed bedroom door, but only so that he could press his palms to the wood as she took the tip of his cock into her mouth. The taste of salt and man hit her tongue, the soft skin on the underside of his length throbbing from the pulsing vein there when she took him deeper into her throat.

“Fucking hell,” he uttered.

Cella would have smiled.

Her mouth was a bit busy.

He let her toy with him just long enough to get his hands shaking when he let go of the door to thread his fingers through her hair. She stilled, feeling the way he struggled to keep still when she took him right down to the very root of his cock.

“God, Cella … that mouth of yours, woman. I’d start wars for that mouth.”

She could see when he lost his sense of decorum—all that control he prided himself on left in a flurry of his clenched teeth, and the harsh curse that left his lips. It took nothing more than her dragging her mouth up his cock again, only this time she used her teeth to tease, too.

A man who lost control was the best kind, though. She found with him, it’s what she liked the very most. It was why when he dragged her away from his cock, and up from the hardwood floor, all she could think about were those hands of his pulling and grabbing and wanting. So rough, and unforgiving in the way he pulled her to the bed.

Shit.

She didn’t even make it entirely to the bed.

Marcus bent her over the side of the bed with no gentleness to his movements. That only made Cella want him even more. There was something about the fact he didn’t treat her like precious china when he fucked her that made her so damn wet and crazy.

Speaking of wet …

“Fuck,” Marcus said, his approval coming out in a rumbling moan when his hand slipped between her thighs to find her pussy that she’d already spread open for him to be slick. “So needy, this pussy—you feel that, Cella?”

“Yes.”

Each drag of his fingertips against the slit of her pussy had her clenching for him.

“You have no fucking idea how much I thought about this pussy of yours. How often I wanted to be fucking it or eating it. All the goddamn time. I woke up hard because of you for weeks. All I could think about was the way your pussy looked when my cock was stretching it out, and all those pretty sounds you make when you’re coming for me. Is that what you want again?”

She was shameless, now.

Rubbing her pussy back against him.

“More than you know.”

Marcus chuckled. “Oh, I know.”

He leaned sideways, but she didn’t notice it as much because he slipped two fingers into her pussy at the same time a drawer creaked. Just as fast, he hovered over her back again, those lips of his ghosting over her trembling shoulder when foil pressed into the curve of her ass.

“Get your fingers inside your pussy and fuck yourself while I put this on, yeah?”

She did, surprised at how hot and wet she was, the sounds of her arousal turning her on even more as her fingers slipped in to take the place of his before he withdrew his own digits. That brief second of being filled with her own fingers and his had Cella moaning for more.