Page 4 of What She Wants

I looked around in awe of being in an area most aren't allowed without an escort. I saw some of the guys as I entered the elevator. My phone vibrated and I pulled it out to check in case it was Karessa looking for an escape route from her honeymoon.

She really thought she was going to be able to resist that superhuman looking man she was married to while being in close contact for days. Highly unlikely. Even I would have been stuck in a contract just to screw Oran Hale and I'd never checked for him like that.

It was a picture in a group text of a hideous outfit Oran forced her to wear. It looked like his sexual frustration was getting higher already.

I was smiling at the chat not realizing we were already in Markos' place. I looked up in time to see him stalking towards me wearing nothing but his pants.

Hot damn. The sinewy body displaying his tattoos while his abs contracted with each step stunned me for a moment. Markos grabbed me by the back of my head and pulled me into a kiss that made me forget I was holding my phone. It collided with the floor as he deepened the kiss, feeding me his tongue. He wasn't kidding about pretenses not being necessary.

From the kiss to us losing our clothes, none of his movements were gentle. It made me realize that the guys before him had treated me with kid gloves. My status didn’t matter to him and it showed in how touched me. Feeling his hard body is one thing but seeing him naked is an event. My view only lasted long enough for him to put on a condom then he pressed me against the wall by my neck. The impact stunned me but I was surprised that I liked it.

He dropped to his knees and threw my leg over his shoulder. Markos ate me just as roughly as he did everything else but had gotten me off in minutes.

Standing, he put his hand back on my neck.

“How do you want it, LeClaire?” He lifted my left leg and thrusted inside of me. “Like this or from behind.”

“I don’t care.”

He’d fucked me like that but after trying to look him in the eyes one to many times, he flipped me and took me from behind. I had a feeling he was holding back and while the sex was worth trying, I knew he wouldn’t offer a repeat. Then when he offered to feed me before I left, I knew that was it. He wasn’t lying about being a great cook.

I smile because there is no bad blood between us, we’re as close to friends as he’d allow. I see him staring off in one direction intently and I can feel one of León’s reporters inching closer to me as I approach. He starts talking to the woman in front of him

“So, wife, tell m—.”

“Wife!” I say in a hushed tone from behind Markos. Surely I didn’t hear him correctly.

He doesn’t turn when he greets me because they are in the middle of an epic stare down.

“Hey Esme,” He says but continues to glare at the woman he just called his wife.

“A wife, huh?” I repeat

He chuckles, turning to face me this time. “Yeah.”

I’m smiling because I’m happy for him even if it’s out of the blue. That seems to be the way of the Founder’s Kids these days. I hear paper flipping as the nosy person probably prepares to destroy me in the news tomorrow.

“Well, good for you!’ I start before an unnecessary lie falls off my lips. “I, too am…um, seeing someone. I’m engaged! Yay!” I say with all the fake happiness I don’t feel.

“Oh! Congrats. Send me an invitation.” He tells me.

Well, shit.

“I will.” I tell him, straightening my spine like I’m telling the truth. “When did you two crazy kids get married? I haven’t seen her around.”

Marko’s answer almost knocks me on my ass. “14 years ago.” He says with a shrug like we didn’t screw a few months ago.

I know for a fact that other people heard and if they follow the tabloids any, they know I now look like a stone cold mistress.

“Nice!” My voice is high-pitched, even I can tell. I cough then decide to try to bow out gracefully. “Let me uh, let me go grab my fiancé so you can meet him.”

Turning on my heels. I search for someone, anyone who can humor me for five minutes. Just then, Dr. Delgado walks in alone dressed in all black and looking like a Grade A slab of meat in his blazer, slightly unbuttoned shirt, and slacks. Even in my despair, I think of all the ways I’d lick him. I dare him to speak Spanish to me.

His green eyes grow with surprise when I approach him.

“Are you here to apologize for firing me?”

Ah, fuck his accent.

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