Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Yes, that’s it…” Marcus’s voice is a low, dark rasp as the finger curves inside me. “Come for me, kitten.” And as he releases my cheeks to pinch my aching clit, I explode, my entire body spasming with the agonizing pleasure of release. It’s so intense my vision cuts out for a hazy moment, and when I come to, I hear him groan behind me and feel the hot splash of his seed on my ass.
* * *
I’m still blushing during breakfast—partially because I can’t look at Marcus’s mouth without thinking about where his tongue has been. We’re standing in my kitchen, eating oatmeal with nuts and berries, and each time Marcus bites into a strawberry and licks the juices off his lips, I feel heat creeping up my cheeks.
It doesn’t help that all three of my cats are staring at me with judgey eyes—as they have been all morning.
“What?” I snap at Mr. Puffs when I can’t take it anymore, and he swishes his tail and stalks off—leaving his siblings to provide the proper dose of slut shaming.
“They’re not used to you having sex in front of them, are they?” Marcus says dryly, and I laugh, realizing I’m not the only one who’s feeling the weight of feline judgement this morning.
“They’re not,” I admit, grinning. “In fact, this may be only their second exposure to human sex—the first being Friday night.”
“Good. I’m glad.” His voice turns husky as he sets his empty bowl on the counter. “I wouldn’t want them traumatized by seeing it done improperly.”
I feel another blush coming on, but I raise my eyebrows, determined to play it cool. “Who says it would’ve been done improperly? I’ve had good sex before.” Or what I thought was good sex before I met Marcus, but I’m not about to inflate his ego any further.
It already matches the size of his “magic” appendage.
“Oh, really?” His blue eyes narrow. “Do tell.”
I set my bowl down and cross my arms over my chest. “You first.” Not that I actually want to know about all the hundreds of beautiful women he’s slept with, but I’m not talking about my woefully short sexual history without making him squirm at least a little.
To my surprise, he doesn’t laugh off my demand or reply with something cocky. Nor does he look the least bit uncomfortable with the topic. “Since losing my virginity at fifteen, I’ve had sex with a number of female partners,” he says calmly, picking up his coffee. “Mostly in the context of casual relationships, but there have been some one-night stands as well. My most serious relationship to date was in college, where I dated the same girl for two and a half years. We parted ways upon graduation, as I was moving back to New York and she wanted to live in LA. After that, I was too focused on my career to devote much time to dating, so my subsequent relationships were superficial and short-lived, ranging from a couple of weeks to a couple of months.” He takes a sip of coffee, then adds, eyes glittering, “And yes, in most cases, the sex was good, though it couldn’t have held a candle to this.”
My arms drop to my sides, and my heart—which had shrunk into a tiny pincushion from picturing him with other women—lurches into a startled gallop. “It couldn’t have?”
“No.” He sets his coffee down, his eyes burning into me. “Believe it or not, I don’t normally want to fuck five times a day.”
“Oh.” My throat goes dry as he steps toward me. “I… I see.”
“What about you?” He places his hands on the counter on either side of me, caging me with his large body. Holding my gaze, he says softly, “Tell me about your sexcapades, kitten.”
I swallow, feeling uncomfortably like captured prey. “Um… there haven’t been all that many, really. Just a couple. One boyfriend in college, one in high school. And a bunch more dates that led nowhere. I’ve never been all that popular.”
I cringe internally at how pathetic that sounds, but Marcus’s eyes narrow again, his nostrils flaring as he leans in. “And they were good in bed, those two boyfriends of yours?” There’s something dark and dangerous in his voice, almost menacing.
If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought him jealous.
Regardless, I’m tempted to keep up the lie, so I come across as less of a loser. But when I open my mouth, the truth comes out instead. “No, they weren’t,” I admit, holding his gaze. “Arthur was seventeen and didn’t know what he was doing, and Jim… well, Jim was okay, I guess. But it wasn’t like this with him. Not like it is with you and me.”
Contrary to my expectations, the confession doesn’t appease Marcus. If anything, his face darkens further. Dipping his head so that his lips brush my ear, he says in a low, rough voice, “I’m glad you weren’t popular, kitten… because if you were, I’d have a lot of fucking Jims and Arthurs to destroy.”