Page 136 of Due Diligence

I placed my hand on his cheek and ran my thumb along the edge of his lower lip. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He turned and kissed the pad of my thumb. Softly. Lovingly. “And if we hadn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes making out in an Uber, I would have told you that sooner.”

He wasn’t kidding. We had gotten into the backseat of the car and had immediately resumed kissing each other, like we both wanted to make up for the six months of lost time in the short trip over the Brooklyn Bridge. “Do you think that driver gave you a bad rating?”

Marcus cocked an eyebrow and that simple gesture was almost enough to make me squeal with delight because he was just so fucking skeptical and adorable. I was not a woman who squealed with delight. Ever. But he had this uncanny way of making me feel like I could.

“To be honest,” he said, “I can’t even tell you the driver’s name or preferred gender at this point, so I have no idea if they were deeply offended…or kind of into it.”

“I was into it,” I replied before I pulled his lips back towards mine. “I need you to fuck me in a car one day.”

“Yeah?” he asked as he toyed with the hem of my top. His tone darkened when mine did. His words were coy and his motions were deliberate—practiced. He knew what I liked. He knew what I needed. “You want me to take you in a car where anyone can see what we’re doing?”

I nodded vigorously, my heart racing from both the thought of it and from the feeling of his fingers caressing my bare skin. His touch had been a noticeable absence in my life. I had awoken on several occasions yearning for the feel of him and with my body thrumming at the memories of what he had done to me. If I wasn’t careful tonight, I would overindulge in him—and we would both come gloriously in a matter of minutes.

I didn’t want that. I wanted to savor him. I wanted to take my time.

“You can have me in a car. You can have me wherever you want.”

“Of course I can,” he said as he surveyed me. “You love being a slut for me. Fuck, I missed you.” He began to kiss me harder, weaving one hand into my hair and holding the back of my head. After a few seconds, his hand lowered to my neck, where he gently wrapped his fingers around me. Immediately, heat blossomed from that spot. I let out a gasp, urging him on.

He once told me I needed this. He was so, so right.

Marcus moved his other hand up my stomach and his touch was hot against my skin. I shivered distantly, feeling the early embers of pleasure. He dragged his hand up to my breast and slid it over the top of the lace cup of my bra. My nipple crowned to his touch, beading decadently against his palm.

“So responsive,” he murmured as he caressed my nipple. “Your body recognizes me. It knows I’m the only one to ever make it feel like this.”

My body missed him so much, there was a welcome home party taking place deep in my center. My stomach fluttered and every inch of skin on me was awake and alert. It was like sitting outside on a cold night with a roaring fire just a few feet away. It was a full body stimulation overload.

“It belongs to you,” I responded breathlessly as my hands rose to fist his hair. I tugged on him. I wanted him. I was greedy for him. I barely recognized myself at first, but then I realized this is how I always felt around Marcus. Alive. Desperate. Privileged to be able to touch him.

I needed him. I needed to have this man I had grown to love—but had been deprived of for half of a year. I needed him now and always.

“Tell me you missed me,” he instructed. He pulled away and locked his green eyes on mine—hand still on my neck. His voice was commanding and businesslike—and so indescribably sexy. “I want to hear it.”

I hesitated too long. I spent too long admiring him.

“Fucking tell me you missed me,” he gritted out as he tightened his hold on me. God, I loved it when he did that.

“I missed you,” I obliged, staring at him hungrily. “I thought about you every day.”

His eyes flashed with satisfaction. “Did you touch yourself when you thought of me?”

He asked the question like he didn’t know the answer was yes—as if he hadn’t made me come with his words over the phone at least once a week since we parted.

“I thought of you sucking my tits,” I answered, moving to pull off my tank top. I wasted no time unhooking my bra either.

His eyes drifted to my nipples. I recognized that look—admiration and adulation like I had never experienced before. His sinful mouth was on them in seconds, sucking on my hard nipples as I undid the button on his jeans.

“Yes, just like that,” I murmured as a surge of pleasure coursed through me. Marcus tugged on a piercing and I let out another gasp. “And I thought of you inside me.”

“Of course you did,” he replied, lips brushing over my skin as he spoke. “You’re so fucking hungry for my cock, Cass. I’m not surprised.”

I smiled. I had missed his filthy mouth the most.

“And did you miss being spread open by me?” he asked as he pulled back. In a swift motion, he tugged his shirt over his head, allowing me to feast on the sight of his flawless skin. I couldn’t stop myself from immediately running my hands over his chest. He felt so wonderful—and so real (thank god).

“I missed it so much.”

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