Page 35 of Prized Possession

He chuckles as he takes a step back, pulling off his tie at the same time. My eyes are wide as fucking saucers as I watch every movement, my heart racing in anticipation.

“When it comes to sex, I have to be the one in control. I call the shots, I make demands, and I expect the person I’m with to follow them without hesitation. I prefer to be dominant, and I like the girl I’m with to submit. But that doesn’t mean I’m the one with all the power. Something like that requires trust,” he explains, throwing his tie on the floor.

I take in a shuddered breath, my skin suddenly feeling really fucking overheated.

It doesn’t come as a great surprise to me that a man like Marcus enjoys being in control—he practically oozes that Alpha persona. What surprises me is how much I like the idea of submitting to him.

After everything I’ve been through, I swore I’d never let another man take anything from me, including control, yet there’s something about this that appeals to me.

“If you’re dominating her, surely you’re the one with the power. She has to do as you say.” My voice sounds so quiet and unsure, because I am. I need him to help me make sense of what he’s talking about.

He lets out a deep chuckle, that smirk of his growing. “No, she doesn’t have to do as I say, shechoosesto. There’s a big difference.

“If you give over control to me, that’s something you’ve chosen to do. I haven’t taken it from you, and you can still claim it back. You set boundaries, and are able to say when things become too much.

“I might be the one calling the shots in the moment, but you’re the one creating the rules to play by, and any guy who has ever made you believe different is a fucking arsehole,” he growls, his eyes flaring with anger at the mention of my past.

For a moment my heart stops, and I wonder if he knows my secret, but that would be impossible. I’ve never told anyone, so there’s no way. He’s just hitting closer to the mark than I’d like.

“I’m still confused,” I admit, hating how foggy my brain feels when he’s looking at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, like he can see into my soul, and it scares the shit out of me.

“Why don’t I show you how much control you really have?”

Before I can respond, he reaches down and slides the zipper to his trousers open. My heart stutters and my breathing turns into panting as all the air is sucked from the room.

He’s still standing a fair distance away, and he hasn’t moved closer, so my mind is working a million miles a minute to figure out what the hell he’s doing.

As soon as the zipper is down, he pulls his white shirt out of the waistband of his trousers, and I ignore the way my breathing hitches when I catch sight of the patch of skin just above, and the trail of hair leading into his boxers.

His trouser button is still fastened, and I have to mentally scream at myself to stop looking at the bulge that’s threatening to break through where his zip was.

“Most women think it's easy for men to get a hard-on. That our dick perks up at the first sight of a pretty girl in a tight dress, and when we were horny fucking teenagers, that’s true. But the older we get, the more selective we are. It takes more to turn us on, and at my age, I’ve learnt exactly what I like.

“You could bring a random girl in here, with big tits and a bare cunt, have her get naked and shake her arse, and there’s a good chance I wouldn’t even get a semi. I’m much more particular about what I like,” he says gruffly, as he begins to unfasten the top button of his shirt.

Wrong fucking button.

I hate the way I’m screaming in my head, wishing he was opening the button on his trousers instead, but I can’t deny I’m fucking hypnotised by him. Not just his deeply seductive, slow, purposeful movements, but also the words.

I have no idea where he’s going with this, but someone could set off a bomb in the next room and I still wouldn’t move.

With each button he opens, he keeps his gaze locked on me, and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I can’t seem to find the words.

He watches my mouth twist as I try to form words like a human, and when I give up, that fucking self-satisfied smirk of his grows.

Just as he begins exposing the hard lines of his abs, his words cut through my haze. “I know exactly what I like, and believe it or not, it’s incredibly hard to find.”

That catches me unaware, and before I know it, I’m blurting out, “Why?”

He lets out a little sigh, that I see more than hear as my eyes are glued to his fucking god-like chest, watching as he pops the last of his buttons and his shirt falls open. My mouth gapes, and I worry that I’m drooling.

“In the past, I may have been willing to try with someone, but now I’m not.People who watch too many Disney movies would say I’ve kissed all the frogs, and now I’m waiting for the real thing,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

A very undignified snort breaks free, and I slap my hand over my mouth in a delayed attempt to cover up the awful noise. But the mere idea of Marcus referring to himself as a Disney princess is one of the funniest things I’ve heard in a long time.

As soon as he hears my laugh, his eyes darken and he takes a step towards me. I feel like prey trapped in the path of a predator, and I’m too frozen to move. “What’s so funny, Mio?”

There’s that word again. I need to ask what it means, but I’ll stick to answering his question—for now. “You are no Disney princess.”

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