“I was,” I say.
“So you were on drugs that night? The night of the fire?”
“Yes,” I lie. A drug problem is better than a mental problem, isn’t it?
“And now you’re clean?”
“That’s none of your business,” I tell her.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be nosey. I just…want to help.”
It’s something about that. Something about the way her face goes soft and caring. I just can’t take it.
“If you stay, you stay on my terms.”
“We already said that. Yesterday. I’m fine with that.”
My frustration multiplies. I wave at the door. “Go. Find someone else.” This won’t be the emotionless fuck-fest I’d imagined for us. Not now that I know she saw me sniveling about needles. Not when she saw me getting all teary on the bed at the hotel because the smooth lines of her soft body reminded me of Marissa.
“Go,” I tell her. “I don’t want you here.”
She walks close to me, so close I can smell her syrupy breath. She runs a finger over my lip, and I go so still.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Stupid,” I say.
I lift her in my arms to carry her to the door. Because I’m humiliated. Because I feel something for her—because she saw me in that state and she came back.
Halfway across the den, she wraps her arms around my neck and rests her forehead on my chest. I divert toward my bedroom.
15
SURI
As he spirits me across his den and down a long, dark, hardwood hall, my mind spins. Marchant Radcliffe has a drug problem. He doesn’t remember having sex with me. He just offered to make me feel used—then begged me to go. And now he’s carrying me into his room.
The bed is big—king-sized with engraved mahogany posts and crimson bedding. I notice long, dark curtains and a vast bookshelf before he yanks the duvet back and drops me on the satiny sheets.
He grabs the hem of my dress and tugs it toward my head. “I warned you. I told you to go—but you didn’t, did you?”
I hold up my arms and feel the whoosh of the dress over my head. All I’m wearing underneath it is a yellow thong and matching lacy bra. I stare up at him as he sets his mouth in a scowl, his biceps rippling as he pulls off his own t-shirt and tosses it behind him. He leans over me and fingers a strand of my hair.
“You’re here because you want to be fucked.”
I nod, because those eyes of his are liquid brown and hot as fire, and I’m mesmerized.
He rolls me over on my side, making quick work of my bra. My breasts bounce free as he rolls me back onto my back, but he’s already moving lower, licking down my belly as he shoves my thong aside and thrusts a finger into me. He covers my pussy with his mouth and I moan.
“I’m gonna give you what you want,” he pants against my thigh.
His tongue flicks hard against my clit, and my orgasm is almost violent, making me convulse and cry out, “Marchant!”
He takes a step back and drops his plaid pajama pants. His dick springs out. It’s big and hard and standing tall—for me.
I sit up, leaning closer to him. He thinks he’s in charge here, but he’s going to have to learn to share the power. “I made that happen,” I murmur. I never felt this…sexy with Adam, and I feel elated. “Do you want to use me, Marchant?”
I press my breasts together.
“Do you like having sex with sluts?” I ask him in my most sultry voice. “Is that why you’re a mack—because you like the girls?” He’s panting now, and I grin wickedly. “I can be your whore.”
His nostrils flare, his eyes are flooded with lust, and I grin again, tweaking my nipples. “Bring that cock to me.”
He’s on the bed before I draw my next breath, pushing me down on my back and straddling my belly. “Taste it,” he says. “Swallow it.”
My heart is beating hard as he shoves himself into my mouth. He thrusts gently at first, and then a little harder—but never too hard. I swirl my tongue around him, opening wider so I can take in all of him. I’m surprised to find I really love this. I cup my palm around his balls and twirl my tongue around his head and pump my hand near the base of his cock. His hands come down harder on my shoulders.
“Yes, that’s right. Yes.”
And I’m secretly thrilled when he tightens and I can feel him on the verge—until he pulls away.
“What—”
He has me flat on my back in a millisecond. He leans over, producing a condom maybe from a nightstand drawer—but it seems like thin air. He rolls it over his thick length, spreads my legs, and looks into my eyes.
“Are you ready?”
I nod, and he impales me.
I lose the capacity to breathe as pleasure surges through me. My legs are limp. My feet tremble. My stomach quivers. And in between my legs, I’m stretched full, bursting; hot and tight and roaring. Then he starts to move, and I am screaming.
Sex has never felt like this. Like we’re one person—two halves of a whole. I rock my hips, arching off the mattress because I am desperate—aching—for more of him. Above me, leaning on sinewy arms, Marchant’s eyes are wide open. He’s watching me—watching my every groan.
“Tell me you like it,” he purrs.
“I love it.”
“Tell me that you want me deeper.” I lift my hips as he thrusts deeper in.
“I want you deeper,” I cry hoarsely.
And then he angles himself just so, so the base of him slides slickly over my aching, swollen clit, and I roll over the edge with an animal roar.
It’s not until sometime later, when the buzzing in my head is quiet and my body has stopped glowing, that I realize he must have come when I did. He’s lying on his side, the condom gone, his cock still long and mostly hard, his chest within licking range, wearing a Cheshire cat grin. He looks gorgeous enough to stop hearts.
“Oh my God.” I’m panting. I realize suddenly that I’m spread out, totally nude, and grope for a blanket—but the covers are thrown off the mattress, hanging down onto the floor. “Damnit. You’re a Beast in bed. I mean…whoa.”
“Best you’ve ever had?” His smile widens just a little.
“Yes.”
“You were pretty good yourself. Passionate. We fit together well.”
I smile. “I think so.” I’m about to confess that I’ve never done anything like this before when he leans forward, looking into my eyes with his dark ones.
“I enjoyed this so much that I’ve changed my mind. You can stay here—if you want to. You’ll stay until we’ve run this dry and then, if you’re not finished with the job, I’ll go. To one of my other houses. Does that sound like a deal?”
I nod. I don’t see where I can go wrong, and even if I can, after the sex we just had, I’m not sure it’s possible for me to turn him down. “Sounds good to me.”
“There’s only one thing you need to keep in mind, and that is: this is just sex. I’m not in the market for a relationship.” He says the word as if it’s something dangerous. “If you find yourself developing…feelings, or, in fairness, if I do…I can go.”
“Where?” The question just pops out.
“I have a cabin in Wyoming.” Before I can comment, he’s rising up off the bed, slipping into a robe I didn’t even see him grab. “Do you agree to let me know?” he asks. “If you find yourself wanting more than sex?”
I sit up, glancing around the plush rug for my own discarded clothes. “I do.”
“Then lie back down.”
He takes my shoulders gently, easing me down onto my back, and spreads my legs again.
MARCHANT
I’m weak.
So fucking weak.
I should have tossed her out the door, but I had to take her to my room. And fuck her. And find that, just like last time, she fit perfectly around my cock.