“I want your ass, Katia.”
Oh man.
“Tell me I can fuckin’ have it.”
“You can have it,” I whimper, licking his cock head.
He puts his hands under my arms and lifts me up, crushing his mouth down over mine as he kisses me deep. Then he places me back on my hands and knees, lowers his head and licks me...right there. Right on my ass. On a normal day I’d pull away, but right now I’m so high, so fucking drunk, I don’t care. He licks me until I’m bucking against him, then he’s there, right there, pressing against me.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.”
Mmmm.
He slides the tip in and I buck. Oh . . . oh fuck. That hurts, but I like it. My head is spinning and I’m wild, I can feel it with every inch of my body. I want it to hurt. I want the pain. I want to feel the burn.
“Fuck me, Marcus.”
“Fuck.”
He slips in further and I mewl loudly, clawing at the chair, thrashing my head from side to side.
Then he pushes in, hard and deep. I scream loudly, jerking, my body hitting maximum pain. I throw my head back and he captures my chin in his hand, leaning his body over mine. “Sweet Katia. Do you want me to fuck you now?”
“Yes,” I scream.
“Say that again.”
“Yes, fuck me hard.”
He does. He rides my ass, his fingers still curled around my chin, his other hand on my hip, using it to work his thrusts. It hurts for the first five minutes, then his finger is on my clit, and suddenly it feels nicer—not great, but nicer.
“I’m going to come,” he bites out. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”
“Come,” I plead, my nipples a hard peak.
He thrusts a few more times, and then he roars his release inside me. I whimper his name, still wound up, still seeking my own release. His cock pulses inside me, and he slowly slides out. Then he flips me over so quickly I barely have time to squeak his name. He spreads my legs wide and pushes two fingers into my pussy while his thumb works my clit.
I’m so swollen, so turned on.
His fingers work me, his brown eyes hold mine, and I come so fucking hard I swear, I swear I see stars. His name is a garbled mess as he slides his fingers in and out, pushing each pulse from my body. Then he removes them and flops down onto the chair. I sit up, head still spinning, body still alive, and crawl onto his lap.
I press my lips into his jaw and kiss him over and over. “I fucking love you, Marcus Tandem. I don’t care what happens in my life, as long as I have you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He flinches.
I don’t notice.
I don’t notice because the drugs get the better of me and I pass out cold.
CHAPTER 20
THEN
Katia
“How does it feel?” Candy squeals down the phone.
I giggle, crossing my legs and tugging my black dress down. “I got married in front of Elvis. It was wicked.”
She sighs. “If only it was the real Elvis.”
“Right?” I murmur. “That would have been hot. We could have had an Elvis threesome.”
“Not sure Marcus would be okay with that. By the way, why aren’t you fucking his brains out right now?”
“He’s gambling.” I laugh.
“On your wedding night,” she gasps. “How could he?”
I snort. “It wasn’t supposed to be our wedding night. We came to Vegas for work, one thing led to another, we had too many drinks and . . .”
“You got hitched in front of Elvis.”
“Precisely.” I grin. “Now he’s gambling, and I’m cool with that because I’m drunk and I got married to a fuckin’ gorgeous man.”
“You are lucky.” Candy sighs. “I never thought you’d marry him.”
“Katia.”
I turn to see Marcus exiting the room he was in. His face is light, his smile easy. He’s as drunk as I am. It’s the first time in nearly a year I’ve seen him smile true, right to his eyes. It’s like he’s won a major battle, or found something he lost and had been looking for. He looks divine. Beautiful. Carefree.
“I’m just telling Candy we got married,” I chirp.
“And I want to take you back to the hotel and fuck you.”
Oh. Yes.
“Ummmmmm,” Candy says. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
I giggle. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Go get ’em, tiger.”
I hang up the phone with a smile, and turn to Marcus. My husband. Oh man, this shit is good. No, it’s awesome. Amazing. Perfect. I step up to him and curl my fingers around his suit jacket and pull him close, pressing my lips to his neck. He smells like smoke, and mint, and cologne. Fuck. Me.
“Keep kissin’ my neck,” he rasps, “and I’ll find an alley and make you scream my name for the world to hear.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” I purr, nipping his earlobe.
“Jesus.” He groans when I reach down and wrap my fingers around his cock.
“Let’s make this official, shall we Mr. Tandem?”
“Right on it, Mrs. Tandem.”
Happiest night of my life. Without a doubt.
~*~*~*~
MARCUS
It’s done.
I married her.
While she thought I was gambling, I called Walter and my lawyer and informed them of the happy news. To say Walter lost his shit, would be an understatement. I had to call security on my house to make sure he doesn’t try and barge in when I get home to try and interfere with Katia. It’s finally official. She’s mine.
Everything I’ve worked for is in my hands as of Monday morning, when I’ll sign the papers to transfer the business into my name.
It’s the happiest I’ve been in the past ten years. Even being around Katia is light and fun. Especially when I lie her down on the bed that night and fuck her so deep and hard she screams my name in minutes, then again not long after. Fuck, the way she is when I’m inside her is hot. It certainly won’t be hard having her in my bed frequently.
She is the right choice; I know that.
And even though she doesn’t know what she means to me, or what she doesn’t mean to me, I know that I’m the right choice for her.
At least, that’s what she thinks.
CHAPTER 21
NOW
Marcus
I lay her body down on the bed. She’s out of it—fuck, I’m ready to get out of it after the way I just fucked her in that car. She never ceases to amaze me; she’s so damned beautiful. The way she is when I’m inside her is fuckin’ sweet. The way she lost control with me . . . fuck. Katia Tandem is a sweet, sweet fuckin’ woman.
I roll her to her side and she doesn’t groan. Not even a little bit. Something strange flickers in my chest. It’s a feeling I’ve never had before. I reach down and tap her cheeks. No movement. My heartbeat kicks up and I roll her to her back, pressing my hand to her mouth. Her breathing is shallow. Fuck. Has she had a reaction to the drugs?
“Katia?” I call, lifting her shoulders and shaking her slightly. “Wake up.”
Her head drops back and her mouth hangs open.
That feeling in my chest intensifies to the point where I can feel my own heart pounding in my head. I slap her cheeks again. Nothing. Zip. Fuck. I lift her into my arms and carry her into the bathroom. She doesn’t move in my embrace, and the feeling in my chest grows to the point where my breathing becomes ragged. What the fuck is happening here?
To her . . . and me?
“Katia, wake up.”
I drop to my knees and lay her on the floor, then I turn her to her side. She makes a strange sound deep in her throat, almost like gagging. I tilt her head back and open her mouth. She begins to gasp. Her skin is going a strange shade of blue. Fuck.
“Katia,” I call.
Her body jerks and she seems to be gasping for air? Is something stuck in her throat? Her skin is turning a deeper
shade of blue and I don’t have time to process. Something is blocking her airway. I flip her to her stomach and hold her body against mine, hand around her chest. Then I put my fingers in her mouth and slide them into her throat. She gags, and gags, and gags. Then she is vomiting all over herself and the floor.
She heaves and heaves. Then she flops in my arms. My heart is pounding and my hands are shaking as I see the color slowly come back into her face. She groans softly, fingers raising up to clutch mine. “Marcus?” she calls.
“Here,” I rasp.
My head is spinning, my mind going far and beyond as I process what the fuck just happened.
It’s not that Katia choked on her own vomit, or food, or whatever the fuck was in her throat.
It’s not that she threw up all over herself, the floor, and me.
No.
It’s more.
It’s the fact that for the first time in my life, I felt fear for another human being.
Fear.
For her.
Fuck.
~*~*~*~
KATIA
My head pounds as I run my fingers through my hair in the shower that morning. God, I feel like death. I don’t remember a lot. I get right to the point where Marcus fucked me deep and good in the car—and boy, was that an erotic experience—and then everything after that is blank. I woke up alone in my bed, having no clue how I got there.
I’m also wearing Marcus’s shirt.
How did that shit happen?
I’ve washed my hair twice, because when I opened my eyes I swear I could smell vomit. I didn’t see any on me, or the floor, or my bed, so I must have been imagining it.
I finish up in the shower and get out, throwing on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank. Then I make my way, very slowly, out to the kitchen. Empty. Pursing my lips, I check the house.
No Marcus.
I walk into the office and stop at reception, where Judy is sitting, scowling at the computer.
“Hey Judy,” I say. God, is my voice that loud or is it just me?
“Hey Katia,” she mumbles.
“Where’s Marcus?”
She blinks up at me. She looks . . . confused?
“You don’t know?”
“Ah,” I say, my eyes darting around. “Know what?”
“He’s gone away for two days.”
Huh?
“Did he have a business meeting?”
She shrugs. “I think so. He said this morning he had to go urgently.”
My heart sinks. Why wouldn’t he leave a note? Or call? Last night . . . in the car . . . I thought something had changed. He was different with me. Something was there. Something I’ve not felt from him. I force a smile and thank Judy, then I rush outside, pulling out my phone.
I dial Marcus.
He doesn’t answer.
I text Marcus.
He doesn’t answer.
What the hell is going on?
~*~*~*~
MARCUS
Fuck.
I stare down at my phone, seeing her missed calls, seeing her messages.
I shove it into my jacket and take another shot of whiskey. My eyes skid around the bar I’m sitting in, and I’m glad I made the choice to get away for a few days. There are people surrounding me, couples, singles, the lot, but I don’t notice any of them. Not the women who approach me. Not the bar attendant who talks to me. None of it.
All I can think about is the feeling I have in my chest.
I don’t like it.
I fuckin’ hate it.
For a moment, just a moment, I let my guard down. I let myself open up and when I did, I felt fear. For her. For my wife. I felt a genuine fear something had happened to her. It’s not an emotion I’ve experienced in my life, and it’s nothing I want to experience again. I can’t let her in. This isn’t how it’s meant to go.
I’m an asshole.
She’s a contract.
When I get back from this break, I have no choice but to take it back to that.
I have to.
CHAPTER 22
NOW
Katia
It’s been two days.
I’ve heard nothing.
Not a damned thing.
It’s the morning of the third day and I’m confused. I don’t understand what happened. I’ve tried to go over the events of that night but nothing comes to mind. I remember an amazing time in the car, but nothing to send him running with no contact. He might be away on business, but he always answers my texts. Even if it’s a simple, asshole answer.
I’m stirring my coffee. I’ve been doing this for the past twenty minutes and have yet to take a sip. It’s probably cold. I’m so deep in thought it takes me a moment to realize the front door has slammed. Shoes squeak down the hall and my head jerks up. I leap out of my chair, rushing out into the hall to see Marcus striding towards the office. His face is blank.
Scarily blank.
“Marcus, where have you been?” I cry, rushing over.
“Busy, Katia.”
His voice comes out . . . dead.
I don’t understand. What did I do?
“Marcus,” I whisper. “What’s going on?”
He turns his dark gaze to mine and I flinch. “I said,” he growls, leaning in close, “I’m busy.”
Swallowing, I watch with a breaking heart as he steps past me and walks off down the hall. Tears burn under my eyelids, and my heart aches. A deep, soul-crushing ache that hurts to the point of no return. When he disappears, I let a single tear go. It slides down my cheek and my bottom lip trembles.
When did things turn so bad?
I don’t understand.
~*~*~*~
MARCUS
Piece of shit.
Monster.
Asshole.
All this shit goes through my head as I leave her, broken.
I had to do it. You don’t understand.
I had to.
~*~*~*~
KATIA
He’s gone out again.
He said it was for a business dinner. He always takes me to those, but tonight he didn’t. He just walked past me without a word.
Something is wrong. Something has happened. I have no idea what it is, but it’s breaking me to pieces inside. He’s closed down, forced himself back more than usual.
Two days, he hasn’t spoken to me.
Two days, he hasn’t come into my bed and made love to me.
Hell, he hasn’t even fucked me.
It’s like I don’t exist.
Bit by bit, I’m slowly breaking to pieces. I’ve tried to ask him, tried to talk to him, tried to understand why he’s so shut off. He gives me nothing. Not a damned thing. So, once again, I’m sitting at home alone. Even the pint of ice cream that’s freezing my lap is not enough to ease the pain in my heart.
Bang, bang, bang.
I lift my head from my position on the lounge, and set the ice cream aside as there is more pounding on the front door. I get up, and with shaky legs I go over and open it to face . . . my Mom. She’s got a tear-streaked face and behind her is Ellie. My mom came out here? Why would she come out here?
“Mom,” I whisper. “I don’t . . .”
“He came here.”
I blink.
“Pierre. He came here.”
Oh shit.
“Momma . . .”
“He came here, he found out about you, and he made you cry!” she shrieks.
Shit.
“I was coming to see you tomorrow, things have been rough, and—”
“How dare he?” she cries. “Katia, honey, I’m so sorry.”
Dammit.
“Come in, Mom.”
They follow me in and I lead them to the kitchen where I begin preparing tea. While it’s boiling, I turn to her. “I’m okay, Mom.”
“I never wanted this for you. I wanted to protect you from him.”
“Protect me?” I ask, confused.
“He’s a bad man, Katia.”
/> “I figured that out.”
“He deals deep with bad people. Criminals.”
My body flinches.
“To the point where he’s well-known on the east coast. To the point where he has contacts in numerous countries. To the point where I ran when I was pregnant because I found out.”
I take hold of the counter. I’ve never heard this before.
“Mom,” I whisper, my voice too shaky to work properly.
“Your daddy is a bad man, baby.”
My legs begin to tremble.
“He’s also involved with Marcus somehow.”
I have to sit down. Of course I expected that he had involvement with Marcus that went a lot further than I knew about, but I also never believed my husband would deal with people like him.
“You’re wrong,” I whisper. “Marcus isn’t like him.”
“Honey,” she says softly.
“No, Momma. He can’t be. He’d tell me. Marcus works here; he goes away for business and keeps to himself. That’s it.”
Her eyes soften. “Well, he knows your father somehow, which means your father now has access to your life.”
“Marcus won’t let him get to me if I don’t want him to.”
She nods. “I don’t know what Pierre is like now, so I can’t judge completely, but I do know he’s very into his family and now he knows about you, there’s a good chance he won’t stop trying to see you.”
God.
“Maybe he’s not interested.”
That’s a lie. I know he is. I saw it in his eyes.
“Honey,” she coos softly. “How could he not be?”
“Is this going to be a problem?” I whisper.
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me about him, Momma. Please.”
And so she sits down, and she tells me about him. She tells me how they met late in college and how she fell madly in love with him. She also tells me how she knew he was dangerous, but loved him anyway. When she figured out just how dangerous he was, she ran. She didn’t realize she was pregnant right away, but decided even when she did that it would be safer for me if he didn’t know.
“Do you still love him?” I whisper.
She looks away. Something in her eyes flashes. “He’s a bad man.”