Sweet Obsession: Ruthless Games #1

by Rose, Callie

Turning on her heel, she walks quickly back to the guy she’s with and wraps her arms around him again, nestling into his embrace.

  Hiding in it.

  Her gaze lands on something behind me at the same instant I feel it—the prickle of awareness moving down my spine as I catch the scent of soap and leather.

  Marcus.

  He steps up beside me, and a tingle of heat brushes over my back. Without even looking, I’m almost positive Theo and Ryland are here too, flanking me. I can practically feel the tension radiating from all three of them.

  How did they all get here? Why are they all here? I left Marcus outside just a few minutes ago, so he probably never even left. But where did the others come from? Did he call them in? Or were they already here?

  “What the hell is this, Carson?”

  Marcus’s voice is flat and controlled, but anger pulses beneath it. My head whips to the side as my eyes widen. I don’t think he was here when Natalie said the guy’s name. And even if he had been, the way he just spoke didn’t make it sound like he was talking to a stranger.

  Does he know this man?

  “Nothin’ at all.” The man named Carson gives an easy smile, grinning down at Natalie as he drops his hand to rest just above the swell of her ass. “Just taking care of my girl here. Don’t worry about it.”

  He shifts his gaze back toward us, and Ryland shoves past me, stalking down the hall toward them. “You son of a—”

  Carson lifts a hand just as Marcus moves forward to grab Ryland’s arm. The two friends are almost the same size, but Ryland seems bigger right now, puffed up with a rage I can’t quite understand.

  “Ah ah ah.” The gap between Carson’s teeth flashes again as he chuckles, shaking a finger at Ryland as if he’s a naughty little kid. “You don’t really want to do that, do you?”

  “You have no fucking idea what I want,” Ryland growls.

  Carson’s gaze flicks from the man in front of him to me and back so fast that I’m almost sure I imagined it. “Oh, I think I do.”

  Ryland’s body jerks again, like he’s about to haul off and punch Carson. But Marcus tightens his grip, hauling him back and muttering something in his ear. Natalie is still draped around her new boyfriend, clinging to him like a barnacle on a rock. She’s cowering slightly, shielding herself with his body, but she also seems pleased, as if she likes seeing her new sugar daddy stand up to the three men who once threatened her.

  Theo steps up beside me, his face a mask of anger too. “You’re making a big fucking mistake.”

  Carson chuckles. “Chill, dudes. I told you, it’s nothing.” He cocks an eyebrow. “You really want to start some shit right now? Is it really worth it? You’ll get your chance soon enough.”

  Ryland still looks like he’s about to fly off the handle completely, and even as Marcus holds his friend back, rage fills his posture too.

  I have no idea what the hell is going on here, but it’s impossible to mistake the tension that fills the cramped hallway.

  It feels thick and heavy. Old.

  Incrementally, Ryland’s taut muscles relax. He shakes off Marcus’s grip and crosses his arms over his chest, still glaring at Carson. “This isn’t over, Purcell. You know it’s not.”

  The new man laughs, holding up one hand innocently as he shakes his head. “Hey, it’s just an apartment, guys. Calm the fuck down.”

  Two men I don’t recognize come through the fire escape door carrying a glass-topped coffee table, and at the sight of all of us gathered in the hallway, they stop, seeming to sense the tension crackling in the air.

  “Oh, hey. Babe, where do you want that?” Carson gives Natalie a little pat on the ass, then waves his hand at the men. “Bring it in and set it down. We’ll be right there.”

  He gives her a little push toward the apartment door, and she follows the movers inside. With the same easy stride he had when he emerged, he heads down the hallway after her, looking back over his shoulder at the three men. “We’ll catch up again soon, yeah?”

  He grins, then disappears into the apartment and closes the door.

  For a moment, the hallway is utterly still. I can hear the murmur of voices from inside as Natalie tells the movers where to put her coffee table, but it barely seems to penetrate the silence that’s fallen around me.

  A dozen questions sit on the tip of my tongue, but before I can utter a single one of them, Marcus turns and stalks back toward me and Theo. He barely breaks stride as he grabs my hand, pulling me along after him.

  “Come with me.”

  Chapter 15

  Marcus’s grip on my hand is firm. Unrelenting.

  My feet patter down the stairs, barely keeping up with his quick steps as he tugs me after him. Ryland and Theo are right behind us, our combined footsteps pounding out a discordant rhythm on the stairs until we reach the small entryway.

  Marcus shoves the door open and drags me down the walk, and when he opens the car door for me this time, there’s something a lot less gentlemanly and a lot more caveman-like about it as he practically tosses me inside.

  Theo and Ryland slide into the back seat. Marcus stalks around the front before sitting behind the wheel and cranking the ignition. The car roars to life, and he peels away from the curb with a screech.

  There’s so much tension thrumming in the car that I can barely breathe, and my mind races over what just happened, trying to fit the pieces together.

  Natalie is back. She’s a bigger bitch than ever, and she’s still manipulating people into giving her what she wants, into taking care of her.

  And that guy. Carson.

  She either can’t see it or doesn’t care, but he didn’t get her those two apartment units because he just wants to “take care of his girl.” He did it to fuck with the three men in the car with me, although I have no idea why or how.

  Marcus takes a turn so fast I slide across the seat, and I grab on to the center console to brace myself. He puts a large hand on my leg, squeezing my thigh as he steadies me, and the heat of his palm burns through the denim of my jeans. His grip is hot and possessive, and it sends a jolt of awareness through my entire body, as if all my nerve endings are concentrated directly underneath his palm.

  It’s like a switch has been flipped inside him, turning him from gentle to hard.

  “What the fuck was that about?” I ask, speaking over the rapid thrum of my pulse.

  He doesn’t answer, just takes another turn at high speed and accelerates again.

  It occurs to me that I have no idea where we’re going, and a ripple of fear passes through me. Given the sudden shift in all three men’s demeanor, I’m not sure I want to find out.

  But fifteen minutes later, we slow down suddenly in front of Marcus’s house.

  The garage door slides open, and he revs the engine one more time as he pulls inside. Automatic lights flicker on around us, illuminating the large, clean space. Two other cars are parked in the garage, both as sleek and expensive-looking as this one—but I barely have time to notice them before Marcus is out of the car, crossing around the front to yank open my door.

  I unclip the seatbelt a half-second before he hauls me out. Then he kicks the door shut and pushes me up against the side of the car, pinning me with his large body.

  His cock grinds against my stomach when he shoves a leg between my thighs, as hard and overwhelming as everything else about him. Then his hands plunge into my hair, angling my head as his lips crash against mine.

  Marcus’s kiss is fierce and demanding, and my body responds like a star exploding, adrenaline and arousal pulsing through me.

  My hand clutches at his back, fingernails raking over the soft fabric of his sweater.

  He’s rocking his hips against mine, and I’m panting into his mouth with every stroke of his tongue, wild desire eclipsing every rational thought I’ve ever had.

  When he breaks away from my lips to bite and suck at the curve of my jaw, trailing his hungry mouth down my neck, I tilt my head back, trying
to suck a full breath into my overworked lungs.

  Then I freeze.

  Both Theo and Ryland have gotten out of the car too.

  And both of their gazes are trained on us.

  Heat burns bright in Theo’s eyes, and Ryland’s nostrils flare as his jaw clenches. My entire body shivers with awareness under their scrutiny, and I can’t seem to look away.

  Marcus’s mouth is devouring the skin of my neck and shoulder. He doesn’t seem to notice or care that his two friends are watching him practically fuck me up against his car. His hand slips beneath my shirt, shoving the fabric up as his greedy fingers skate over my skin, grabbing my breast through my bra and squeezing it roughly, pinching my nipple.

  A shock of pain and pleasure shoots through me, and a flood of wetness soaks my panties.

  A strangled noise pours from my throat, and that sound breaks the stasis holding me. Wedging my hand between us, I shove against Marcus’s chest, trying to stop this runaway train before he literally does fuck me against the car.

  For a second, he doesn’t budge. Doesn’t stop.

  His lips are wrapped around the junction of my neck and my shoulder, and he’s sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. The feel of it draws another low noise from me, and that, finally, seems to penetrate the singular focus that drives him.

  He wrenches his head away from my neck, pulling back slightly. His blue and brown eyes are glazed, his lips slightly parted.

  He glances over at his two friends, who stand just a few feet away, and I see him realize they’ve been watching us. I see him take in the expressions on their faces.

  For a moment… he hesitates.

  A new kind of tension saturates the air, and time itself seems to pause as he meets his friends’ eyes.

  Then Ryland presses his lips together and turns away.

  Theo’s gaze lingers for a second longer, moving over my body like liquid fire. But then he turns away too.

  I barely have time to process the flicker of disappointment that flutters through my belly before Marcus turns his attention back to me. His hands skate over my ass and down my thighs, parting my legs to wrap them around his waist as he heaves me into his arms.

  He carries me into the house, his path erratic since he’s barely watching where he’s going. His lips keep touching every part of me they can reach, and his heavy breaths are hot against my skin. We reach the second floor, and he makes it down the hall to his bedroom in a few long strides.

  As soon as the bedroom door shuts behind us, he presses me up against it. His hands release my hips as he tears at my jacket, shoving it down over my shoulders. He can’t get it off, though. There’s no room. I’m sandwiched between the door and his large body, and my jacket is pinned to me.

  He keeps tugging at it, yanking at the worn fabric in his desperation to get it off me, but unwilling to break his hold on me for even a second to make that possible.

  The prosthesis on my other arm is controlled by movement in my shoulders, and the silicone hand is flailing erratically, but Marcus doesn’t even seem to notice. He growls into my mouth as he tries to shove my jacket down once again.

  “Wait!” I gasp, pushing at him with my good arm. “Let me. I’ll do it.”

  He’s breathing so hard that I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my own. His eyes are glassy, his pupils blown out with desire, but he nods. Stepping away from me, he slowly unpins me from the door, setting me back on my feet.

  My legs are shaky, and I realize as my feet touch the floor that I lost a shoe somewhere between the garage and the bedroom.

  Marcus takes a step back, leaving hardly more than a foot of space between us. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he jerks his chin at me. “Take it off.”

  Barely breathing, I shrug the jacket off my whole arm and then pull the sleeve off my prosthesis. A momentary flash of self-consciousness moves through me as the fake silicone arm is exposed. This thing is literally a replacement limb, but somehow it makes me feel more broken, more damaged, to have people see me wearing this than without it.

  With long sleeves, it’s hardly noticeable. But bared like this? I feel like it’s all anyone can see.

  The harness that attaches across my shoulders sits over my tank top, and I shift a little under Marcus’s stare. But he’s not looking at me with disgust, or even pity. The same fierce heat still burns in his eyes, and as I watch, he reaches down to cup himself through his pants, squeezing and rubbing the hard outline of his cock.

  Like he can’t help himself.

  Like he can’t fucking wait.

  Like he needs some kind of relief right now or he’ll die.

  “More,” he rasps. “Take off more.”

  The sound of his voice and the sight of him stroking himself like that makes my thighs clench. My clit aches as I reach up to unclasp the shoulder harness of my prosthesis. I tug it off and pull the fake arm away from my amputated limb, dropping it gently to the floor. As I roll down the sleeve I wear over the stump to keep the prosthesis from chafing, Marcus’s gaze tracks the movement, devouring every new centimeter of my skin as it’s revealed.

  The blood-red flowers and dark shadows of my tattoo come into view, and Marcus groans as I toss away the sleeve.

  “Beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful. More.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t give Theo and Ryland so much shit for jumping when this man says “jump.” Because I’m no damn better. My mind is still spinning, a riot of unanswered questions, but I don’t hesitate when Marcus gives the command. My hand reaches down to the hem of my tank, and I pull it over my head, letting it drop away.

  “More.” His voice is gravel.

  My heart beats out a fast rhythm in my chest as I reach around behind me and unclasp my bra.

  It hasn’t even fallen from my shoulders when Marcus moves. He’s on me again, pressing me back against the door as he yanks the bra off and throws it away. Then he drops his head to my chest and feasts like a starving man, grabbing both of my breasts in his large, calloused hands, kneading and massaging them, pressing them together so his tongue can lap first at one nipple, then the other.

  When he draws one into his mouth and sucks, my back arches off the door, pressing my chest harder against his warm mouth, urging him to devour me. “Fuck! Oh, fuck. Marcus!”

  The sound of his name on my lips seems to ignite something inside him. He releases my breast with a wet pop and lifts his head to claim a punishing kiss. I reach for him, wanting to get his shirt off too, wanting to feel his hot, smooth skin pressed against mine.

  But before I do anything, he breaks our kiss and spins me around, tugging my hips back with a jerk. I bend at the waist and catch the door with one hand, the elbow of my other arm rising up to brace against the wood too.

  “Fuck. I have to taste you again. See if you taste as sweet as I remember.”

  Marcus’s muttered words come at the same time his hands find my waistband, pulling the zipper down before shoving my pants and panties down my legs. He doesn’t even bother taking them all the way off, leaving them pooled around my ankles as he slides his hands back up my legs.

  They settle on my hips, and he pulls them backward again, making me arch my back even more.

  A predatory hum resonates in his throat.

  Then he buries his face between my legs.

  I yelp, almost losing my balance again as my knees threaten to give out. I’ve never felt anything quite like this before. The angle is so unexpected that I can’t tell where the next stroke of his tongue will come from, and when he palms my ass cheeks and spreads them apart to give him better access to my pussy, I groan.

  I feel helpless like this. My legs are trapped by the fabric of my jeans, and I can’t move because I need both arms to hold me up against the door. I can’t even see Marcus. But I can feel him. I can feel every forceful stroke of his tongue, and when my body starts to quiver, shuddering from head to toe, I can hear him mutter, “Come for me, angel.”

  S
o I do.

  My eyes squeeze shut as sensation explodes inside me like a bomb, shock-wave after shock-wave of pleasure detonating inside me. My knees really do buckle this time, and Marcus surges to his feet and catches me as I stumble forward, wrapping one arm around my waist to hold me upright while the other moves to my clit, rubbing fast circles to ride me through the last waves of my orgasm.

  I’m pinned between him and the door again, my back molded to his front. I can feel the hard pressure of his cock against my ass, and I grind back against it, shifting my hips forward and backward to simultaneously ride his hand and his cock.

  “Step out.” He nudges one of my legs with his, and I lift my foot, finally freeing it of my jeans and panties. “Other one.”

  I repeat the gesture, and he kicks the clothes away before turning me around to face him. It’s not dark in the room like it was last time he carried me in here, so I can see every line of his face this time.

  I can see the way his lips are swollen and red from worshipping me. I can see the way his dark brown hair is messier than usual, tousled pieces of it falling over his forehead. I can see the way his nostrils flare with each sharp inhale.

  He’s beautiful.

  Feral and wild.

  I want to see more of him.

  Fire flashing in his eyes, he moves to kiss me again, but I pull back.

  “Wait,” I murmur. “Let me.”

  His brows pull together a little, but he pauses, obeying my command for once. When I grab the bottom of his shirt and tug it up with one hand, he raises his arms to help me but lets me be the one to pull it over his head.

  The broad, sculpted muscles of his torso come into view, and I let myself stare with impunity, dropping his shirt and running my fingertips down the cut ridges of his stomach. The muscles tense under my touch, and he makes a guttural noise.

  I find the button of his pants and pop it open with a quick flick of my fingers, then drag his zipper down. He doesn’t help me with this either, instead resting both hands on the door on either side of my head. I can feel his gaze on my face, soaking up my expression, but I can’t look away from the place where my fingers work his pants and boxers down over his hips, letting his thick cock spring free.