Page 67 of Due Diligence

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, shutting his eyes tight. “You feel so good, Cass. So…so damn good.” His hands tightened around my hipbones. He let out a breathy chuckle. “Don’t kid yourself. You’redefinitelygoing to fuck me again.”

He was right. He was always right. As I lowered slowly, enjoying the decadent sensation of his thick cock working into me, I knew there was no way I would have the resolve to stay away from this man and his absolutely mind-blowing cock again. When he thrusted upwards into me, I could tell he just knew how to wield it. There was an unspoken confidence in the way he worked into me. It was an ineffable competence almost—and I realized how much that competence turned me on.

Marcus’s cock was all the way inside of me now, and I allowed myself a moment to adjust to his size. My hands tightened on his shoulders and I closed my eyes, rotating my hips just the tiniest amount. Patiently, he leaned forward and his lips touched my neck.

“I want to compliment you,” he whispered. “I have so many—so many—praises I could shower on you right now.” But he nipped my skin, drawing a gasp from me. Involuntarily, I contracted my muscles around his dick and I could feel him smile against my skin. “I know you don’t want that though. And I’m very much in the business of giving you what you want—what you need, Cass.”

He drew his hands to lift me by my waist, coaxing me to move on him. “Do you like being fucked in public?” he asked. “Do you like me using you here, where anyone could see you?”

“I love it,” I uttered as his length hit my cervix, and sharp pain melted into delicious pressure.

“You want someone to walk in right now, don’t you?” he continued, his hands tightening on my small waist. “That’s what you’re into. You want someone to use these stairs and to catch me shoving my cock in this sweet, wet pussy.”

I was nodding and I couldn’t stop. His dirty words sounded as good as his cock felt. I began to raise and lower myself on him, meeting his thrusts. We were grinding harder now, heat building between us as we gathered momentum.

“You couldn’t even wait to get home,” he continued, gritting out the words as he shoved more deliberately into me. “You needed it now. You needed a big dick in you because you want to be fucked like a slut, Cass.”

“Yes,” I managed to say, the word practically choking out. Marcus loved that; he wrapped his arm around me and dragged his lips lower to bring my nipple into his mouth. After a long, hard suck, he released it with a pop and said, “Do you let all your friends fuck you like this?”

“Just you,” I responded. “Just you, Marcus.”

My hands moved from his shoulders to grip his strong back. I was pulsating with pleasure now, losing my mind with it. I scratched him through his shirt, wishing I could feel his bare skin. I would leave nail marks on him—would add that to the hickeys and other traces I had left on his body. As much as I wanted him to take me, I wanted him to be mine. I didn’t want to share him. I wanted him to be captivated by me and me alone.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “God, you know how to move.” He lifted a hand from my waist and brought it up to my breast to clutch it. He gave it a squeeze, gripping my tingling flesh before he brought his hand up to my neck. It felt so good, I could thank him. But before I could speak, he ran his thumb along the side of the column of my neck and said, “You’re so fucking bad, Cass. I can’t get enough of it. Think of everything we could do together.”

I did. I thought about all the ways he could make me come and how wrong it would be every single time. It left me breathless, wanting more. Needing more. I rolled my hips on him, ignoring the dull ache in my knees where they pressed into the hard stairs. The pain was nothing. It couldn’t stop me, not when everyother part of my body felt alive and rich with my oncoming orgasm.

“Yes,” he hissed. He thrusted harder, feeding me relentlessly. “Come on, Cass. Come. Do it with me. Do it for me. Show me how good it feels when you have a big cock in you.”

I was on the edge, chasing release. We were moving together, totally in sync. I moaned, maybe saying his name, or maybe just making incoherent sounds—I honestly couldn’t tell. I threw my head back, stretching my neck in his grasp. My pussy flared, spasming around him. I began to ride him frantically, letting the pleasure build up in a cresting wave.

“Don’t stop,” he grunted. “Don’t you fucking stop now, Cass. That’s it. Soak my cock. Give me everything. Let go—”

Bliss. I came spectacularly around his cock, whimpering as he continued to thrust into me, spurred by my orgasm. I clutched his face close to my chest and his lips wrapped around a nipple. He didn’t release it. Even when I was thrumming and moving from the force of my climax, his mouth stayed on me. I cried out, the sound echoing in the empty stairwell.

He groaned, his motions stilling briefly as his own orgasm hit. We were coming together, the wave of sweet release cascading over us both. His hands were tight on me, squeezing curves and sensitive skin with the comfortable possessiveness of a man who had touched me hundreds of times before.

When I finally stopped coming and the waves of my orgasm had petered into small flashes of pleasure, Marcus began to kiss me. He laid a scattering of kisses up from my breasts, along my collarbone, and over my neck until he reached my mouth. His hand came up and weaved into my hair, holding my head in place. He kissed my lips, languid and measured now that the sex—the incredible, mind-blowing sex—was out of the way.

“That was worth millions,” he said, speaking against my mouth. His voice was scratchy now. “You’re a fucking revelation.”

I returned my hands to his shoulders, grounding myself in their stability. I worked to steady my lungs, keeping my eyes closed for several seconds. Calm washed over me; it was nice to be in his arms. I usually didn’t linger after I came. I usually didn’t stick around for the cuddling and the petting. But tonight, I didn’t feel like moving. To my surprise, the thought of leaving his arms felt almost unbearable.

“Marcus,” I said when I finally trusted my lungs to keep my breaths even. “I’m so sorry.”

He frowned and leaned back to stare at me. His cheeks were flushed pink and his brown hair was askew. Seldom did Marcus ever look unpolished. I decided I liked him this way—and wouldn’t mind seeing him like that more often. “What the hell for?”

“If I hadn’t been such a jerk in college, we probably could have been screwing like that for the last ten years,” I explained.

He let out a laugh and kept smiling. It was the first time I ever really saw him laugh. His face was brighter, almost boyish. “Maybe,” he said. “Looks like you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“Really?” I inquired, playing along. “I’m in your debt?”

Gamely, he nodded. “Oh yeah, big time. Massive debts owed to me. Hell, I’m probably going to have to ask the engineers to code sexual debts into Libra, so you can keep track of how much you owe me. It’s going to take years—maybe more.”

“You’re so obnoxious,” I chided, slapping him lightly on the arm.

Still smiling, Marcus leaned forward and kissed me. “But you like me,” he responded after a moment. “And that’s all I’ve wanted for ten years.”

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