Page 83 of Due Diligence

“Fuck you,” I repeated, glaring at him.

He smiled and leaned in close, his nose brushing against mine as I stood there with my arms folded. “Let me be bad, Cass,” he said as he placed one hand on the curve of my waist. “Let me break the clause in my contract that forbids me from paying for sex. Let me pay you to fuck me however I want.”

Still simmering, I didn’t say a word. I glared at the check, glared up at him. What a fucking asshole.

“We both know you like it,” he continued as he placed the folded piece of paper on my neck. The surface of the paper caught me off guard with its cool texture. “You like the idea of me paying to fuck you. You pretend like it’s disrespectful, but you like the idea of me using you for your body.”

He slid the check across my collarbone, inciting goosebumps in its wake. To my chagrin, my body was unfolding with want.

“I’m not going to let you pay me,” I snapped, working to keep my mind resolute.

“Yes you will,” he whispered as he lowered the check down between my breasts. His fingers tickled them as he inserted thecheck between my cleavage. “You don’t want compliments or commitment. You just want me to do things to that insane body of yours.” Marcus leaned in close and pressed a kiss on my lips. “Let’s make it worth your time.”

“You’re such an asshole. I’m not awhore, Marcus.”

“I didn’t say you were.” He traced a path of kisses around my mouth, each one lighting up another part of my body. “We both know you’d fuck me for free. I’m paying you because you clearly need something to convince you that you can be with me without giving up your freedom.”

My breath hitched at the idea. I looked up, fixing my eyes on his. There was a brightness in his green eyes, something at the intersection of excitement and desire.

“When I fuck you tonight, it’s not because I like you, Cass. It’s because I paid for you—and I’m not a man who wastes or mismanages his money.” He lowered his lips to mine.

I let him kiss me, but I didn’t kiss him back. I could feel the paper tucked into my cleavage, scratching my skin. I had no clue what number he wrote on it, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know. Regardless, I was never going to accept that money.

“So that’s it?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly. “You think you can write me a check and I can just forget that speech you gave me about how much you like me?”

Slowly, he shifted his hands from my waist to my ass, where he gripped it through the leather. “Don’t forget it. Just put it aside for one night. Call it a transaction. Fuck me without worrying, Cass.”

Gently, Marcus ran his hands over the globes of my ass, massaging them. “I own this ass tonight.” He lowered his lips to my neck, just as he slid his hands up and along my sides. “And these tits,” he murmured as he cupped them. “Your whole body, Cass. I own it. And I’m going to fuck it like I own it. Like I paid for it.”

When he kissed my lips again, I parted them to let his tongue meet mine. He probed my mouth, his tongue rolling over my teeth and exploring me. As our kiss deepened, I could feel my body softening in his hands. The premise of what we were doing was abhorrent, but the reality was searing. Filthy. I wanted him to give me everything, to take my body and use it for his pleasure.

“There we go,” he murmured as he began to walk backwards, bringing me with him in slow, measured steps. “There we go. Give in to it. Show me what my money is worth.”

Marcus took a seat on the bed, but he held my hands in his. He looked up at me, his lips tinged faintly with my lipstick. Already, a look of pure desire had set in on his face. His gaze burned, soaking in my body like another man would look at a luxury sportscar. Marcus could buy anything; all he wanted was me.

“Come here,” he ordered, tugging on my hand.

I moved forward until I was standing between his knees, closer to that cock I wanted so badly. He released my hands and fixed his grip on my waist. His touch was familiar, scalding. I moaned softly as he massaged me, and his pupils practically dilated at the sound.

“Who did you wear this for?” He leaned forward and kissed my stomach through my dress. “Did you wear it for Alex?”

Coyly, I shook my head as I pushed my fingers through his hair. I loved how thick it was—how good it felt to tug on it.

“Tell me who you wore it for.”

“You.” I stopped there. If I kept going, I would have told him that everything I did to my body that night was for him. Waxing, washing, penciling, curling, shoving myself into a dress that put my curves on display. I did it all for him. Only him.

“Me?” Marcus questioned as he looked up at me again. He lifted an eyebrow. “Well, I hate it.”

That obviously wasn’t the case. But I played along and tilted my head to the side. “What should I do about it?”

“You should take it off.”

“I see. Well,” I cooed as I raised my hands up to the zipper in the front of my dress, “the customer is always right.”

Marcus inhaled sharply when I called him that. A smile tiptoed onto his lips.

Slowly, I pulled down the zipper, exposing just a couple of inches of my skin at first. When the zipper was level with my nipples, I stopped.

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