Marked

by Charisse Spiers

  I disconnect the call and toss my phone down beside my head, before turning over once more. As soon as my eyes start rolling back in my head a banging starts to occur on my apartment door, causing me to jump. "Come on! This has got to be a fucking joke."

  Grabbing the edge of the comforter in my hand I sling it back, off of my body. I stand in a hurry and start walking toward my bedroom door, losing my footing on the other corner of my comforter hanging in a heap on the floor beside my bed. I break the fall with my palms, missing the footboard by a few inches. "Dammit! I'm about to have someone's ass."

  The banging gets louder. "I'm coming," I yell, trying to upright myself. My left wrist feels like I slightly jarred it. Walking through my apartment I attempt to wake up by rubbing the heels of my hands over my eyes with no success. I just want to crawl back in bed and sleep. I can't even see in front of me because my eyes are heavy. I'm only navigating by memory of my apartment layout. I grab the door and jerk it open. "What? Is sleep too much for a girl to ask for? There are reasons why I live alone."

  "Holy fuck. No you aren't going to be getting any more sleep for a while."

  The deepness of that voice sends chills down my body. I'm suddenly very much awake. The cloudy haze has cleared. What remains in its absence is one sexy as hell man standing before me. He roughly grabs the top of the doorframe in his hands, his biceps flexed as if he's squeezing the life out it. I love the muscular structure of his arms. Finally able to speak, I ask, "What?"

  "Do you always answer the door like that?"

  I blink a few times to comprehend what he's asking. It dawns on me. I got out of bed to answer the door. I look down at my body. The red, oversized and worn cutoff Braves tee shirt stops just below my boobs, and my nipples are hard, therefore showing through the thin material. My navy panties only cover the front and the center of my ass, revealing half of each butt cheek, but that he can't see.

  I look back up at him. "My clothes?"

  "Or lack thereof."

  "These are my pajamas. You woke me up, so what's the problem? You are not entitled to bitch about how I answer the door when I told you I was sleeping, whether you're fucking me or not."

  He steps inside the door, eying me like I'm now his prey. His eyes are glazed over as if I'm a piece of meat dangling in front of his face and he's seconds away from devouring me. I'm no longer cold, but my nipples are so hard that each time the fabric of my shirt rubs against them they hurt. I step backwards as he basically invites himself inside, slamming the door behind him. "The problem is that I was coming over here with every intention of being...tame, and then you answer the door looking like a fucking erotic dream just before a teenage boy comes all over himself in the middle of the night.

  He stalks toward me, grabbing me by the bare waist. I look him in the eyes, unsure of what the hell he expects me to say. This is how I sleep. I can't stand a lot of material getting twisted up in the middle of the night. The less clothing the better. Sometimes I go completely nude. I'm a wild sleeper, hence me tripping over half of my comforter. I shrug my shoulders. "I'm not modest. At least I wasn't completely naked. I guess you caught me on a clothing kind of day."

  "Fucking hell. I came over here in hopes of pussy and sleep, and in that exact order. Give an orgasm, get an orgasm, and sleep. I'm tired, I've been up all night, I have jet lag, and I have a lot of shit that I need to be doing at work, but instead of going home to rest the second I land I end up here, unable to bypass your pussy because it consumes my fucking mind. I can't get you out of my damn head."

  He roughly rubs his callused hands up my sides, pushing my shirt over my breasts. I raise my arms over my head, giving my permission for him to remove it. "You better be glad you can fuck like a porn star or I'd tell you to get the hell out of my apartment. I can't remember a time when a dick was worth bypassing sleep, but for yours I may make an exception..."

  He outwardly moans his aggression, and then removes my shirt over my head, returning his hands to my messy hair after dropping it to the floor. "I've never been wound so tight over a woman. Congratufuckinglations. If I didn't know any better I would think you laced your pussy with heroine, because after one night I need another fix. You're about to get fucked. Sleep can go to Hell."

  He closes in to kiss me and the back of my hand goes over my mouth, stopping him. "Hold up, killer," I mumble against it. He leans back slightly, giving me space, his eyes narrowing as if I've slapped him. I move my hand. Heaven help me I'm so turned on right now. I'm almost worried that I should have worn more covering underwear with the way I feel between my legs. This is totally a temporary mood kill, and I may not give a shit about a lot of things, but hygiene is not one of them. "I have to brush my teeth. That's just nasty."

  He smirks and releases me. "By all means go ahead, because once I start on that sexy little body I'm not stopping."

  Oh my hell. On that note I turn and walk away, awkwardly walking from the wetness saturating my panties. I hear a slight growl and then his footsteps on my heels. His stride never changes from the living space to my bathroom sink. I grab my toothbrush and look at him standing behind me through the mirror. I raise my brow as I spread toothpaste on the bristles. "Are you seriously going to stand there and watch me? I can't go anywhere with you standing behind me like that. Plus, I'm pretty sure you could catch me anyway.”

  I turn on the water. “Hell why even try? It's not like I could hide. You'd find me I'm sure. You're crazy like that. Privacy is a non-existent thing with you. You standing in my apartment is the perfect example." I point my toothbrush at the mirror. "I've never given you my address or the name of my complex, yet here you are, just like beef boy mysteriously showed up last night. Why is that?"

  I run the head of the toothbrush under the stream of water and place it in my mouth, starting with my back bottom teeth and brushing in the same way that I do twice a day, but never taking my eyes off of his. He dips his hands under the narrow waistband of my panties on each hip, before pushing them down my legs far enough for them to fall in a pile at my feet, baring me completely. He doesn't act like he's going to say anything as he stares at me in the mirror, studying my face. "I own a PI company, a very successful one, because my father was the best in private investigations. He taught me everything over the years. I'm good at what I do, Lux. Knowing details is who I am. Missing a single one can make or break a case."

  I lean forward and spit, then resume brushing, interested in him revealing something useful about himself for the first time. He brushes my hair over my right shoulder, revealing my left. "Attention to detail is imperative for a man like me. I never miss one. Whether client or mark, I know everything about a person, like this," he says, placing his lips on the beauty mark that resides between my shoulder and neck. It's so light in color that most people don't even know it's there. Even if it were darker, my hair usually covers it.

  He reaches around and grabs the back of my left hand, pulling it to his mouth, connecting my palm to his lips. "Or this." He kisses my scar on the palm of my hand where I burned myself in one of my genius ideas to teach myself how to cook as a kid. I obviously didn't have enough brain capacity at the time to realize the pot is hot when heated. Ingredients were scarce. It took creativity, only a kid doesn't know what things taste and don't taste well together. Don't ask what all was in the concoction, but it wasn't edible.

  With his opposite hand, he places the tips of his index and middle fingers at the skeletal knot between my shoulders and draws down the length of my spine, stopping at the level of the sacrum, before splitting the two to hover over my dimples. He presses inward, exerting a slight pressure. "But these are my favorite. A woman’s back is one of the most sensual body parts; because of the curves, the sensitivity when touched just right, the way it reacts to pleasure, and the way it sets the character for all other body parts proves it to be beautiful. It's also a vital part for the rest of the body to be physically attractive as well as structurally symmetrical. Those are the things that m
ake it remarkable. These, just like dimples in the cheeks, are beauty marks. Many people want them but the gene that forms them seems to be more recessive than dominant."

  Toothpaste is starting to spill over my bottom lip from brushing the same area of teeth during that whole spill. I spit and quickly rinse my mouth out, followed by my toothbrush, and then return it to the holder not saying a word. I grab the hand towel off of the ring and wipe my mouth clean. "What the hell was all that? Are you possessed by a writer?"

  He runs his hand down to the top of my butt cheek, his thumb tracing along the seam of my crack as he continues downward. He squeezes and mirrors one hand with the other, pulling my ass cheeks apart. Before I can think he presses his denim covered erection into the crack of my ass. "Just stating a fact. What are you trying to say? That guys can’t be deep or philosophical in nature… We probably notice more and think deeper than you realize. Before another week has time to pass this will be fucked for the first time. I've marked your pussy and this is next. I will go where no other man has gone before."

  I quickly retort.

  "Why do you think I've never had anal sex," I ask, swallowing. My muscles reflexively tighten at the thought of his dick going there, knowing the size. I've done many things, experimented to no end, but that is not something that has ever interested me. I wasn't against it. I just was never into it either.

  He presses his body into mine, lining his front to my back, placing his lips outside of my ear. "Never underestimate my ability to pick up on details, big or small. That is a skill I was taught all of my life. It’s no longer a talent but an instinct. I leave nothing messy, no loose ends, and everything is calculated ahead of time. As long as you are mine, it is my job to know every fucking detail about you and where you are at all times. Get used to it. Otherwise, I can’t protect you."

  I turn in his grasp and he allows me to with ease, placing his hands to each side of me on the bathroom counter, blocking me from moving as his eyes scan mine. "What if there are things about myself I don't want you to know, or anyone for that matter?" I pull on the hole-punched end of his belt, sliding it through the leather loop to unfasten it. "Everyone is entitled to their privacy, Kaston. You can't just barge in to someone's personal life and open their closet door, digging through their skeletons. They are usually skeletons for a reason, no longer alive, and things that a person wants to leave hidden in the dark behind closed doors."

  Once his belt is hanging loosely from opposite sides, I grab the buckle and jerk it through his belt loops, dropping it to the floor as the end falls from the final belt loop. "If you want to know something about me, then ask. It is my fucking right to decide if I want to tell you. Follow the rules of society. I don't go plundering in your shit."

  He grabs me by the waist and lifts me roughly onto the counter. On instinct I place my hands to each side of me, and then lean my head back against the mirror. I just want him to touch me. He straightens his posture and begins unfastening his jeans, starting with the button. The man radiates so much controlled power that I can't focus. "The most important thing you need to remember about me is that I don't abide by fucking rules; if you haven’t already noticed. I am like no other man you've ever met before. Every person is built with a totally different makeup, individual to the person like a fingerprint. There will never be another quite like me, baby. Fuck society. I play my way."

  He pushes his jeans and briefs down his legs before stepping out of them. He doesn't let more than a few seconds pass before grabbing the backside neck of his shirt and pulling it over his head. There isn't an ounce of fat on his body. His stomach ripples when he exhales, contracting to form a human sculpture. "Fuck you're hot," I say in a whisper, not meaning to verbalize it.

  He steps forward, grabbing ahold of my waist. His height is perfect to align his dick between my legs with the height of the counter. "I will know every fucking detail I can know about you, because I want to. There is something about you that I can't let go of. Maybe it's the mere fact that you can tolerate my fucked up lifestyle as if it's just a normal day job. That also means there's the strong possibility that you're just as fucked up as I am, allowing us to complement one another. I don't really give a shit what the reason is. With you I don't have to hide and I like it. You are mine, Lux. I will own you emotionally and physically within a matter of time. If you don't like it tough shit. You'll get there. It's not my fault you walked into Kross' shop that night. I didn't lead you to that alley for you to witness what you did. I sure as hell didn't ask you to show up at Chevy's club, so call it what you want, but either way something led you to me time and time again. Now, you know too much. It's either kill you or keep you forever."

  He pulls me to the edge of the sink so that he's pressed firmly between my legs, his rock hard dick brushing against my pussy. I wrap my legs around his waist at the same time he places one hand on my cheek, his thumb rubbing the outline of my bottom lip. "You, beautiful, are far too perfect to return to dust."

  My heart starts pounding in my chest, no doubt from the hormones raging through my body, multiplying profusely. I grab his hair in my hands, pulling him closer to my face. "Don't say that fucking shit to me," I say in a breathy tone. "I can't fucking think when you say that shit to me. You're a damn lunatic. Forever, my ass. That term doesn't exist in my vocabulary. Nothing lasts forever."

  I press my heels into his ass, trying to hint for him to do it already. He has barely touched me and I feel like I'm about to come apart. I'm starting to think this moved faster when we had both obviously been drinking. "Are you on birth control?"

  His sudden outburst catches me off guard. His hand leaves my cheek. Everything is in such a haze. I never get like this. My core body temp is rising, heating to abnormal temperatures, and my skin is flushed, turning a hue of pink. I find myself wanting to look between my legs to make sure I'm not getting the counter wet, as stupid as that seems. I’ve never gotten wet to those extremes before. Each time I speak my voice comes out exasperated and fucking needy. I don't do needy. "What? Yes. Would you just shove your dick in already? Damn!"

  He slams into me hard, filling me completely. My arm rises above my head and my palm hits the mirror to stop me when my body begins scooting backwards from his thrust. My eyes close reflexively and a moan escapes my lips. It's like my hands have been tied back with an itch so intense that I want to scream, and after being tortured for a long period of time someone finally scratches the itch for you. It's a relief. It feels so good; too good. Wait a minute.

  My eyes open. "Where is the fucking condom?"

  A smirk spreads across the lower half of his face. "Don't ask for things you aren't sure that you want. You said shove it in and I did. Ask and you shall receive."

  "I didn't say fuck me without protection!"

  He pulls out very slowly, teasing me with his dick, making it harder to rationalize this situation. "Oh, God."

  My breathing becomes uneven. He bucks forward and looks at me so hard it's as if he could cut straight through me with his stare. "What can I say? I'm an asshole. I told you I do what I want and this is what I wanted. Next time you'll think before you speak. Never question me. I know you're clean and I need you to trust that I am."

  "Trust," I shout, or try to anyway. I'm not very convincing at the moment. I guess that's what happens when someone with the perfect size cock is taunting you with it. "I barely even know you. Why should I trust you? I don't know where your dick has been. People lie. I don't fuck without condoms...ever."

  "I've never fucked a woman without a rubber and I've never had one break. I'm even the guy that buys the same brand so I know they aren't faulty. I get tested every six months tops. Last time was when I came back to Atlanta the week prior to meeting you. Clean bill of health according to the doctor and I haven't fucked anyone other than you since. Let me fill you in on a secret.”

  He’s still fucking me as he speaks. “Contrary to what you may think, I don't just fuck anything that walks and has a pussy be
tween her legs. I have standards. I told you attention to detail is a must, every fucking time. This is something I want to try, and I want to try it with you. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Trust me with your body."

  A man that can sound like that while saying shit like that should be banned from being anywhere near a woman. I don't care who you are, that is not easy to say no to. He has a way with words that’s dangerous.

  He pulls out again, never letting the tip exit before ramming his cock into me again. It's a slow torture. "Okay," I say against my will. I'm no longer controlling my own body parts. It's weird, as if someone has taken possession of my body, and muting my soul to use my body like a host, controlling me like a puppet. I will break through. I don't care how good it feels. "If you give me some bullshit you won't have to worry about killing me, because I'll fucking slit your throat. Got it? I don't play about that shit. I take care of myself. Sex is fun until you have something you can't get rid of. Protected sex is better than no sex."

  He smiles. Seriously? This is not a fucking time to be smiling. I'm serious. I’m not even sure how we’re both turned on still as we have this conversation. Everything between us is backwards. When I should be creeped out I'm turned on and when he should think I'm crazy he smiles. What the hell is wrong with this picture?

  He runs his hand up the length of my back, grabbing the middle of my hair in his hand, jerking it. The muscles between my legs clench as my head is pulled back roughly. "Fuck yeah," he says in a deepened voice.

  His thrusts become faster and shallower than before. He presses all the way inside and stops, grinding his hips in a circular motion. "What kind of birth control are you on?"