'Til Death: Volume One
Page 25
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He steps backwards, hooking me around the waist and pulling me into the room. He twists us, kicks the door shut and slams me against it. My back presses against the cool wood and his body presses against me. I kiss him until I can’t breathe and he returns it with full force. He shows me depth, and passion and beauty. In a frenzy, I rip into his shirt, untucking it and sliding my hands up his delectable abs.
He rumbles low, and pulls up my skirt, wrenching his lips from mine. He buries his head into my neck, kissing me there while his fingers glide up my thighs, making little tingles appear everywhere he touches. “Did you get a pay rise?” he murmurs into my ear.
“Yes,” I breathe when his fingers find my pussy.
“Did your mom get her chair?”
“God, yes.”
“You’re welcome.”
I moan when he slips his fingers inside me. He thrusts deep, while his other hand works on his belt. He releases himself, slides his fingers from my depths and hooks my leg around his waist. Then he takes hold of his cock and guides it slowly inside my aching pussy. I moan when he impales me, my head drops back and my fingers clutch his arms.
“Tight, sweet cunt,” he growls against my neck.
“Jesus,” I breathe.
He starts fucking me against the wall, hard and deep. His cock destroys me, little by little, with every one of its beautiful thrusts. His mouth devours my neck, his hands clutch my ass and he fucks me in a way I’ve never been fucked. My hips and ass are bouncing on his cock as he picks up the pace, using my bottom to drive his thrusts.
Then someone knocks on the door.
“Fuck,” he breathes, slowing his thrusts but not stopping altogether. Then he barks, “What?”
“Marcus, you have the next lot of men for the meeting.”
The receptionist. Bad timing, lady.
“Marcus,” I whisper.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, then yells, “Be there in ten.”
“Did you want me to prepare the presentation?”
He slides his cock out then drives it back in, making me whimper into his chest.
“Yeah.”
“And what about morning tea? Who is organizing that?”
“Tell her to go away,” I whisper into his ear. “God. Marcus. I need you to fuck me harder.”
He flashes me a rare, wild grin and my heart does a little flip-flop. He tilts my hips, lifting them off the door slightly, and continues fucking me while he answers. My nipples harden against his suit jacket, and God, I want to come.
“Candice knows,” he yells out. “Now, if you don’t mind?”
“Right,” she says. “Sorry.”
He turns his face back to me, and starts fucking me hard again. I come after the second deep thrust and my body convulses around him.
“Yeah,” he grunts.
Then he’s coming too. He slows his thrusts, head thrown back, jaw tight. He milks himself using my body, groaning with each pull and push. Then he slowly lowers me off him and I straighten.
“I never said thank you,” I whisper.
His eyes flash to mine. “Thought that was what you just did.”
I smile shyly.
He studies me.
Then he turns away, something coming across his face I don’t quite understand.
“I have to go to this meeting,” he informs me.
“I know.”
“Dinner tonight, seven.”
It’s an order. I’m happy to oblige.
“Okay.”
He turns to me, pulls me forward, kisses me hard, and then he’s gone.
And I think I just fell in love with him.
CHAPTER 17
NOW
Katia
Bang, bang, bang.
I groan and roll, flickering my eyes open. What the hell? There’s a loud pounding at the door. Shifting my body, I feel I’m alone. Yet again. Marcus fucked me, oh God did he fuck me. Then, as always, he left me alone when I fell asleep. I refuse to analyze that right now. I’m more concerned about the banging at the door.
No one comes to the front door, so it’s strange, especially at this time of the morning. With a groan, I throw myself out of the bed. I run my fingers through my hair then I throw it up with a clip before pulling on a pair of shorts and a long, baggy t-shirt. Then I stalk out of the room, mumbling about the time of the morning and my lack of coffee.
When I reach the front door, I rub my eyes and then swing the door open. There’s a good-looking man standing there, and as I take him in, he seems familiar some how. He’s tall, super tall. He’s got dark hair that curls around his shoulders, and chocolate brown eyes.
His skin is a beautiful olive and overall he’s quite handsome. Older, but handsome. Without a doubt. Something strange nags at my chest. It’s like I’ve met him before. Maybe he’s been into the office. I’m not sure, but there’s something about him...
“Is Marcus here?” he barks, cutting off my thoughts.
“Pardon?” I say.
Jesus, someone is rude.
“I said,” he growls, glaring past me. “Is Marcus here?”
“And you are...”
“The name is Pierre.”
My entire world stands still and everything falls into place. The reason I’ve seen him before, the reason he looks so fucking familiar is because he’s my Father. I may not know a lot about him, but I know his name. It’s the one thing my mother gave me. That and an old photo. He was younger then, but now I picture it in my mind, I realize it’s where I’ve seen him.
He rumbles low, and pulls up my skirt, wrenching his lips from mine. He buries his head into my neck, kissing me there while his fingers glide up my thighs, making little tingles appear everywhere he touches. “Did you get a pay rise?” he murmurs into my ear.
“Yes,” I breathe when his fingers find my pussy.
“Did your mom get her chair?”
“God, yes.”
“You’re welcome.”
I moan when he slips his fingers inside me. He thrusts deep, while his other hand works on his belt. He releases himself, slides his fingers from my depths and hooks my leg around his waist. Then he takes hold of his cock and guides it slowly inside my aching pussy. I moan when he impales me, my head drops back and my fingers clutch his arms.
“Tight, sweet cunt,” he growls against my neck.
“Jesus,” I breathe.
He starts fucking me against the wall, hard and deep. His cock destroys me, little by little, with every one of its beautiful thrusts. His mouth devours my neck, his hands clutch my ass and he fucks me in a way I’ve never been fucked. My hips and ass are bouncing on his cock as he picks up the pace, using my bottom to drive his thrusts.
Then someone knocks on the door.
“Fuck,” he breathes, slowing his thrusts but not stopping altogether. Then he barks, “What?”
“Marcus, you have the next lot of men for the meeting.”
The receptionist. Bad timing, lady.
“Marcus,” I whisper.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, then yells, “Be there in ten.”
“Did you want me to prepare the presentation?”
He slides his cock out then drives it back in, making me whimper into his chest.
“Yeah.”
“And what about morning tea? Who is organizing that?”
“Tell her to go away,” I whisper into his ear. “God. Marcus. I need you to fuck me harder.”
He flashes me a rare, wild grin and my heart does a little flip-flop. He tilts my hips, lifting them off the door slightly, and continues fucking me while he answers. My nipples harden against his suit jacket, and God, I want to come.
“Candice knows,” he yells out. “Now, if you don’t mind?”
“Right,” she says. “Sorry.”
He turns his face back to me, and starts fucking me hard again. I come after the second deep thrust and my body convulses around him.
“Yeah,” he grunts.
Then he’s coming too. He slows his thrusts, head thrown back, jaw tight. He milks himself using my body, groaning with each pull and push. Then he slowly lowers me off him and I straighten.
“I never said thank you,” I whisper.
His eyes flash to mine. “Thought that was what you just did.”
I smile shyly.
He studies me.
Then he turns away, something coming across his face I don’t quite understand.
“I have to go to this meeting,” he informs me.
“I know.”
“Dinner tonight, seven.”
It’s an order. I’m happy to oblige.
“Okay.”
He turns to me, pulls me forward, kisses me hard, and then he’s gone.
And I think I just fell in love with him.
CHAPTER 17
NOW
Katia
Bang, bang, bang.
I groan and roll, flickering my eyes open. What the hell? There’s a loud pounding at the door. Shifting my body, I feel I’m alone. Yet again. Marcus fucked me, oh God did he fuck me. Then, as always, he left me alone when I fell asleep. I refuse to analyze that right now. I’m more concerned about the banging at the door.
No one comes to the front door, so it’s strange, especially at this time of the morning. With a groan, I throw myself out of the bed. I run my fingers through my hair then I throw it up with a clip before pulling on a pair of shorts and a long, baggy t-shirt. Then I stalk out of the room, mumbling about the time of the morning and my lack of coffee.
When I reach the front door, I rub my eyes and then swing the door open. There’s a good-looking man standing there, and as I take him in, he seems familiar some how. He’s tall, super tall. He’s got dark hair that curls around his shoulders, and chocolate brown eyes.
His skin is a beautiful olive and overall he’s quite handsome. Older, but handsome. Without a doubt. Something strange nags at my chest. It’s like I’ve met him before. Maybe he’s been into the office. I’m not sure, but there’s something about him...
“Is Marcus here?” he barks, cutting off my thoughts.
“Pardon?” I say.
Jesus, someone is rude.
“I said,” he growls, glaring past me. “Is Marcus here?”
“And you are...”
“The name is Pierre.”
My entire world stands still and everything falls into place. The reason I’ve seen him before, the reason he looks so fucking familiar is because he’s my Father. I may not know a lot about him, but I know his name. It’s the one thing my mother gave me. That and an old photo. He was younger then, but now I picture it in my mind, I realize it’s where I’ve seen him.
