Page 26 of Marek

Then, he fucks me.

He lifts me up and hooks my legs around his waist, before lowering me down onto his raging dick. My fingers tangle in his hair as he uses his own strength to lift me up and down on his cock, fucking me against that pole until I’m moaning his name. This only spurs him on, and his thrusts become wicked and deep as he races for his own release.

When he cums, he does it with his mouth buried into my neck, his growls rumbling against my skin and sending electricbolts down my spine. I clutch him, relishing in the way his cock pulses deep inside me, and the way my body burns as it stretches around him. Marek is huge and my body is feeling the effects of that, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting him more.

I’ve gotten myself into a lot of trouble here.

I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get out of it.

“TELL ME YOUR TERMS.”

His words come just as my eyes are getting heavy. I’m curled up on the sofa, blanket over me, after showering the cold water from my body and watching as Marek stood in the doorway, his eyes on me the entire time. I made sure to wash every inch of my body until his eyes flared with need and he took every item of clothing off his perfectly sculpted body before getting in with me, spinning me around, and fucking me against the wall.

The dull ache between my legs is a stark reminder that he was there.

“Terms?” I ask, sleepily, rolling to my side so my eyes don’t shut.

“Don’t play simple, Ellie Mae. You know what I’m asking you.”

I focus on him, laying on the bed, shirtless. This is probably the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. The hard expression on his face is slightly softer. It’s almost as if he enjoys me being here. Does he? Is that why he’s fighting for me to stay so badly? Do I offer terms? Will it do me any better to make him think I want to be here? Do I want to be here? I’ve tried to ask myself that question, and no matter how hard I attempt to get a straight answer. I can’t.

Thinking about going home, to my life, makes my chest sink with a familiar loneliness that I don’t like.

But thinking about staying, and never seeing my family again, hurts, too.

Then there is Marek...I know I should hate him, I know it, but something inside me is softening to him and I know that’s a bad thing – it’s something that is going to get me hurt, so why does the idea of leaving him make me feel a little broken?

Am I as twisted and fucked up as him.

“Stop thinking about it, and answer the question,” Marek grates out, and I blink, snapping myself out of my thoughts.

It’s worth a shot, I suppose.

“If you want me to dance for you, then I want you to change the way you do things.”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t argue, either.

“I don’t want those girls in cages. I want you to let them go. We will get new girls, girls that actually want to perform. There are many of them. Your show can be incredible, Marek, but I can’t stand the way you treat those women.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then he murmurs, “I’m not prince charming, Ellie Mae. I’m the wicked monster who poisons the town. You’re looking for something that isn’t there.”

“I know who you are, but you asked my terms and those are it. If you want me to dance, I’ll dance, if you want to make this show great, we can make it great, but I won’t stand for the poor treatment of those girls.”

“You’ll stay, willingly?”

I bite my bottom lip. “Only if we go home.”

His eyes flash. “You and your friends ensured we don’t get to go home.”

“That was one town, and it’ll be old news soon. We can fix it, I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way. I don’t want to go to Russia, I want to go home. I want to tell my family I’m okay, I want the chance to do this properly.”

“Why?”

His eyes flash as he pushes out of the bed and walks over, taking a chair and sitting beside me, leaning forward on his knees.

“Why what?” I ask, pulling the blanket up higher.

“Why do you want to help me? Why should I believe a single fucking thing you’re saying.”

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