Page 86 of Due Diligence

“Did you just spank me?” I demanded.

I felt his hand rub against my ass cheek, soothing the spot. “I did. Spanking isn’t my kink, but if you call me that again, it’s going to happen again.”

“Asshole,” I repeated.

Smack. Another one. I gasped, delighted by the sensation. The spot prickled as the nerve endings fired and sent alerts tothe rest of my body, basically singing the news that a wave of pleasure was going to drown us all tonight.

“You enjoy that?” He pressed his body on top of mine so his mouth was at my ear. “Ooh, you’re fucking sick, Cass.”

“Ass—”

“Nope,” he said as his hand slid up my side. It tickled the edge of my breast, swooped over my shoulder, and came to my neck. His hand surrounded it, holding me lightly in that way I loved. “Don’t exploit it.”

“I love it.”

He adjusted his grip on my neck. “You need it,” he responded. “But you need my cock more.”

I didn’t tell him the truth—that he wasn’t wrong. Instead I just wiggled my ass against him, teasing him. But I quickly realized I wasn’t the one doing the teasing—not by a longshot.

He released my neck and climbed off me, leaving me feeling cold. I glanced over my shoulder to find him, and I spotted him standing by the dressers opposite the end of his bed. He was languidly rolling a condom over his dick.

My eyes widened as I feasted on his naked body.

“Did I say you could look at me?” he questioned, nodding his chin at me. “I don’t think I did.”

“You’re perfect.”

Marcus paused, his hand still working the condom over his length. I shifted, turning over onto my back so I could stare at him. I took in the dusky dark hair on his lean, muscular body. He was built fluidly, almost gracefully, in a way that accentuated his height. But there was something indescribable about him. Beautiful wasn’t quite the right word. Maybe it was pristine—unspoiled. He didn’t have a tattoo on him, or even so much as a scar. That wasn’t a feat—the guys I slept with before I met Trevor were always clean cut, clean shaven, rich boys. No tattoos, no nothing. But Marcus didn’t look like them either. He lacked thepruning and the grooming and the pretty boy muscles. Marcus was different, built to just be…Marcus. Healthy. Safe. Stable.

Marcus looked unmarred and untouched in every possible way.

“Turn over,” he ordered, glaring at me.

I tried and failed to keep from smiling. I couldn’t believe I was allowed to touch him. “You’re flawless.”

“Cass,” he warned. “Turn over. Turn the fuck over or I’ll come over there and turn you over myself.”

As soon as I flipped back over onto my stomach, Marcus’s hands were on me. He yanked me back by my hipbones without warning, making me cry out with surprise. Immediately, his hand wrapped around my neck.

“You didn’t want sweet. You didn’t want a boyfriend. You didn’t want strings attached,” he hissed, his words hot in my ear. “So you don’t get any of that.”

I felt a slap against my ass cheek. It was stinging and delicious, clearly meant to punish me for refusing to follow his directions.

“No compliments,” he went on.

Another one.

“No fucking googly eyes admiring me.”

Another slap. I bit back my lip and inhaled sharply, which spurred Marcus to roughly tighten his grip on my neck.

“And no ignoring me when I tell you to do something.”

He didn’t spank me that time. Instead, his hand came to wrap around my hanging breast, cupping it. He heaved it up with his palm, pressing it against my chest.

“They’re so big,” he whispered, his lips traveling to my earlobe. He sucked it in, nibbling it with his teeth. “And nobody else touches them like I do, right?”

“Nobody,” I admitted, grateful I didn’t have to lie to him. “You’re so much better at it.”

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