Hollywood Bad Boys Club: Book 3: Marcus

by Alexis Adaire

  In my wine and lust-fueled haze, I realize I have only a few seconds to decide how far I’m going to let this go. For me, it’s either all or nothing; I’m not going to call a halt at some arbitrary point in between.

  Think, Rashida. What do you want?

  When I feel an unmistakable hardness pressing into the small of my back, I get cold feet. I can’t do this, at least not yet. I barely know this man, and much of what I do know, I don’t even like.

  I wriggle my shoulder and pull away, turning to face him as I do. My eyes line up below the knot of his necktie.

  “Marcus, I don’t think we should…”

  I’m silenced when I see a vulnerability in his eyes that was never there before. It’s as if he’s crying, only there are no tears. But they must be there, just under the surface, waiting to come out, because I can feel them.

  “Don’t think we should what?”

  He says it softly in that deep voice, and I swear I can feel the sound waves vibrating between my legs. What is it about this man? Apart from his physical perfection, that is. As we continue to stare into each other’s eyes, I place a hand against his chest and even through his vest and shirt I can feel how absurdly ripped he is.

  “We can just talk if that’s what you want,” he says.

  This may sound ridiculous, but the instant I realize Marcus is honestly okay with just talking, that’s it. I know I’m going to fuck him.

  Tonight, right here in my condo, in my bed.

  If we can make it there.

  “Kiss me, Marcus.”

  I tiptoe as he bends toward me. When our lips meet, I’m shocked by how erotic the sensation is, as if these two pairs of lips were designed to be placed together. His tongue slides inside, looking for mine. My knees grow weak the instant he finds it. I’m almost swooning, like women do in old movies. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck to steady myself, then pull him into me, kissing him harder. He tastes delicious, like wine and sin. For the moment, I forget all about sex because this kiss is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  Marcus’s arms envelope me and pull me against him, my breasts pressing on his upper abdomen. I’m feeling light-headed but don’t dare stop. A hardness pushes against my belly and it takes me a second to realize that’s his erection way up there. I force myself to breathe because this is all too much. When I do, I take in his clean, manly smell and it further fuels my desire for him. I don’t know what cologne he wears, but it’s subtle and not too masculine, a perfect scent for him because he already exudes masculinity.

  I pull back and engage his eyes again. He’s such a man-child emotionally, especially so soon after his recent tragedy. It occurs to me how much Marcus needs a physical release after what he’s been through. In a split second, I decide to take him to the bedroom and be his distraction, and I’m ready to take the lead. I slide one hand into his, interlocking our fingers.

  “Come with me,” I say in my sexiest voice.

  I take a step toward the bedroom, but Marcus doesn’t budge. When I turn to entice him into following me, I see him looking at me with pure, raw lust.

  “No.”

  That one syllable is the last thing I hear before he pulls me back toward him and we’re locked into another heavenly kiss. A few seconds later, he abruptly spins me around against the sink and reaches to the front to unzip my pants. I think about resisting, but no part of me wants to. Maybe we’ll go as far as we can right here, then move to the bed when we need to.

  Done with my zipper, he opens my pants and roughly slides a hand down inside the front of my panties. I can’t believe this is happening right here, with this man, this famous athlete. There’s no doubt it’s happening, though, because his long finger moves lower and lower, eventually sliding across my nicely trimmed landing strip and between my already wet lips. I suck in a breath when he finds my clit and deftly strokes it.

  At the same time, Marcus presses against my butt and I feel his unmistakable hard-on. I tell myself that we’ll have to move to the bedroom soon, then reach behind me and grab that big bulge, wrapping my fingers around it. His free hand pushes mine away, then works furiously to undo his pants. I look straight ahead at the tile backsplash and listen as he desperately frees himself while his finger continues stroking my clit. I grope around again until I feel it, that combination of warm, soft skin on the outside covering a very hard erection. My fingers can’t wrap all the way around it, and without looking, I can tell it’s even bigger than it was when I saw it in the hotel suite.

  Marcus again removes my hand, then firmly pushes between my shoulder blades and bends me forward over the sink. When he reaches down with both hands and pulls my pants down to my knees, I realize his intentions. I should stop him, make him put on a condom. I can only imagine how many women he’s been with. That thought evaporates when I feel his finger sliding into me, probing my wetness. I can barely think I’m so insane with need for this man.

  A soft moan escapes from my lips as Marcus extracts the finger and what is unmistakably the head of that cock presses against me. He pauses, as if waiting for permission to proceed. My brain turns off and my body takes over, pressing back against his hard-on to let him know it’s okay.

  “Yes. Please.”

  I hear the words float from my mouth, needy and hungry, and it feels like someone else is voicing them. Marcus grabs my hips with both hands and pushes in, slowly and steadily. I feel him opening me up and it hurts in the most blissfully painful way imaginable. My butt writhes back against him again, my body imploring him not to stop. He obliges, pushing further in until I feel like I’m being split open, my pussy involuntarily clenching and pulsing around his hardness. He’s so incredibly rock-hard, and I’d forgotten how delicious it feels like to have sex without a condom. I’ll worry about the consequences later; I’m on the pill so at least that’s not an issue. For now, I’m going to enjoy this.

  I moan again as Marcus begins to fuck me, slowly thrusting in, then pulling out just as slowly. He doesn’t exit all the way, but he’s so long that it almost feels like it. His hands leave my hips and slide up under my sweater, playing with my breasts through my lace bra. My knees get wobbly again when he pinches my nipples, gently at first, then harder when I respond with another moan. That hard-on of his feels unimaginably big and my pussy opens to take everything he gives me.

  “Oh, fuck yes.” I’m rarely vocal during sex, but the words spill out before I realize it.

  I hear Marcus moan for the first time. It’s a deep, guttural sound that further pushes my desire. I don’t ever want him to stop. My hands grasp the edge of the counter, then reach back and feel his muscular bare hips, grabbing them and pulling him toward me. He moans again, louder and more insistent, and my own return moan is almost animalistic. His cock is thrusting in and out more rapidly, his body pounding against my butt with each stroke. I sense that he’s about to come and crazily, I want him to.

  “Don’t stop,” I say with urgency as his pace increases. He hammers away at me another few seconds, then his hands disappear from my sweater and I feel a sudden pain as he withdraws, pulling out entirely. My pussy walls spasm and my brain finally catches up, realizing that Marcus is no longer inside of me.

  I turn to see what’s wrong and find myself looking at this gorgeous man, large in every way. His pants are piled up at the ankles of his long sinewy legs and that huge dark cock is pointing right at me, nearly as big and as thick as my forearm. I look up to his face to see a pained expression.

  “Why’d you stop?” I ask breathlessly.

  “I almost came in you,” he replied, equally out of breath. I’m stunned that Marcus is being more cautious and considerate than I am.

  I reach for his hard-on, wrapping my hands around its slick girth. I can feel the blood pulsing in his veins and see a tiny drop of white cum ooze from the tip, contrasting sharply with the dark brown skin. Damn, he was close. I begin to slowly stroke him with both hands.

  “Don’t,” he says.
<
br />   I grin. “Why not?” I’m suddenly aware that my pants and panties are around my knees when he sneaks a quick look at my pussy. I feel exposed in such a sexy way.

  “Stop,” he pleads.

  “Stop what?” I continue moving my hands back and forth on his shaft.

  He’s holding his breath and his mouth is a tight line. The poor guy is trying hard not to come.

  “You mean stop this?” I ask, tightening my grip and increasing the motion.

  “Yes,” he mumbles.

  “But it feels so good in my hands,” I respond.

  Marcus grabs my forearms and tries to hold me steady.

  “Stop.”

  Doesn’t matter. I continue to stroke him.

  “Rashida…”

  I feel his cock swell and look down to see a stream of cum spray out, hitting my thigh.

  Marcus groans and releases my arms. “Oh, my god,” He exclaims once, then twice as several more jets spew forth. They land on my thigh, my pants, the floor. He grabs my shoulders to steady himself and I repeatedly feel his cock spasm as I milk every drop out of him.

  The contrast of the thick white liquid on my medium-brown thigh is sexy and as I watch it drip down my thigh, I realize I’m desperately craving my own release. I’m still holding him and for the moment, at least, he’s still very hard. Looking up into his grateful eyes as I slide out of my heels, I let him go long enough to slide my pants off, then slip my sweater over my head and drop it. As Marcus stares, I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, which quickly follows the sweater to the kitchen floor.

  I take his cock in my hands again and gently squeeze it. It’s impressive how hard he’s remained after his orgasm.

  “Damn, Marcus,” I say in admiration, then turn my back to him and place my hands on the counter, bending forward slightly. “Now finish what you started.”

  In no time, I again feel his cock poised at my opening. When he pushes in, my brain once more shuts down as my pussy is blissfully filled.

  Marcus resumes fucking me, his hands on my hips. His cock feels amazing, but I need more from him. I take his right hand off my hip and guide it between my legs. His finger quickly finds my clit and begins to trace over it in tiny slippery circles.

  There’s so much stimulation that it’s almost overkill, and I remain on the verge of coming, unable to quite get to that point of no return. That is, until Marcus leans forward and kisses the ridge between my shoulder and neck, then tenderly bites me. I moan as I start to breathe more rapidly, feeling the intensity building inside, between my legs, and even in my head. His lips move to my neck, then he’s nuzzling the side of my ear. That giant cock keeps moving in and out of me, faster and faster, as the finger on my clit keeps pace. I’m close. So damn close.

  “Come for me, Rashida,” he whispers.

  Those four simple words, spoken to me by Marcus Jennings in that deep voice, trigger a tremendous orgasm.

  I moan loudly as what seems like every muscle in my body contracts in wave after glorious wave. My butt instinctively pushes backward, driving Marcus even farther into me, which just makes me come harder.

  The intensity of the orgasm is staggering, and before it begins to ease up, Marcus’s other hand cups my breast and pinches my nipple hard. “Give me more,” he whispers into my ear, and I quickly feel myself falling over a second waterfall, unable to stop it even if I wanted to. My knees almost buckle and I grab the edge of the counter for support as I come a second time. This orgasm isn’t as strong as the first, but my God—two orgasms back-to-back! I ride the feeling as long as I can, and the experience leaves my entire body tingling as if I were touching a live wire.

  As I slow my involuntary bucking, Marcus slows with me.

  “That’s my girl,” he whispers and his warm breath on my ear is almost too much to bear.

  His finger is barely even touching me now, just hovering over my clit, and he tenderly massages the soft flesh of my breast. His cock has stopped moving but remains parked inside of me. I realize I’m panting, with beads of sweat covering my entire body.

  Am I? Am I his girl? What is going on here?

  That was among the most intense sexual experiences of my life, with a man who, up until an hour ago, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to sleep with. Marcus Jennings has just fucked the hell out of me in my own kitchen.

  He gently slides out of me and my pussy aches—not from pain, but from the void he leaves behind. I turn to face him and see a confusing array of emotions written on his face; pain, happiness, fear, lust. It’s all there, but when Marcus speaks again, it’s the man-boy I hear.

  “Shit, girl. I never expected you…”

  His inability to finish the sentence is a compliment. I unbutton his vest and remove it, then quickly dispense with the tie and the shirt. As I slide the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms, he lets it fall to the floor. Suddenly, I am stupefied, rendered speechless by the body I see in front of me. Marcus is naked except for his socks and shoes, and the pants still bunched up at his ankles.

  I stare at his body shamelessly as he slips off his shoes, then bends down to remove his socks. This is it, the same body I saw in that ESPN magazine, without an ounce of fat anywhere. No hair, either, for that matter—he’s perfectly smooth. Although he looks a little thin on the court, Marcus is surprisingly muscular, with large shoulders, a chiseled chest, and a belly so ridiculously ripped it makes me feel self-conscious about my own slight pooch. Only this time there’s no basketball to block my view of that beautiful penis. I like to think I’m not a size queen, but DAMN.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his head down to me for another kiss. Our sweaty bodies are slick against each other and for the first time I feel his hard-on beginning to soften. I also realize we’re both standing stark naked in my kitchen and his come is dripping down my thigh.

  “I bought caramel crème brûlée for dessert,” I say after the kiss, absentmindedly reaching for his cock. Even as he grows flaccid, it’s still impressive. I’ve only seen one that was larger, and its owner was seriously lacking as a lover. Marcus doesn’t seem to have that problem. His hands send sparks as he touches my body, one tracing circles around my nipple while the other strokes my lower belly.

  “We should eat it in bed while we take a break,” he says, not really a suggestion so much as a statement of intention.

  “A break? I take it you have more in mind?”

  I feel an electric jolt as his roaming finger finds my nipple and it stiffens at his touch.

  “Before I leave tonight, I’m going to ravish you until I have every square inch of your beautiful body memorized,” he says, slowly looking me up and down. “And I mean every square inch. Then when I’m away from you, I can get myself off while remembering how insanely fucking sexy you are.”

  I don’t know which part of the compliment is better, but together they’re enough to make me blush all over. I’ve never thought of my body as being all that, but hearing those words come from Marcus’s mouth makes me feel like Cleopatra.

  “I could certainly use a thorough ravishing.” I tiptoe to plant a kiss on his lips. “And we have all night.”

  Finally releasing his cock, I grab a clean dish cloth. I look down to find his cum now runs from my thigh to my shin.

  “You really made a mess of me, Marcus.”

  He grins as I wipe up the evidence. “It’s that body of yours,” he says.

  If he keeps complimenting me like that, I may end up believing it myself. I set the towel aside and walk to the refrigerator, taking out two ramekins and handing them to him.

  “Follow me,” I say as I get a couple of spoons from the drawer. I gesture to his cock, now hanging limp. “And bring that thing with you. We’re gonna need it.”

  I walk out of the kitchen toward the bedroom, knowing that Marcus Jennings is right behind me in all his delicious naked glory.

  After finishing the crème brûlée, we fuck our way through the standard positions: missionary, dog
gie style, and me on top. Although I don’t come when he’s on top of me, it’s utter bliss having a man that tall and muscular and gorgeous looking down on me as he expertly pounds my pussy.

  Doggie style ends up being a bit painful, but it’s a different story when I’m on top of him. Lowering myself onto his hard-on is as exquisite a sexual feeling as I can remember, and the sensation of being filled like that leads me to a third orgasm.

  Afterward, we lie in bed and talk for a while. I’ve got cream-colored sheets draped over me, while Marcus doesn’t bother covering up, his entire body exposed to my view.

  “I want you to know something,” he says. “I always use condoms. Always.”

  Hmm… I’m not sure whether to feel special or not. “You didn’t tonight.”

  “I know, I know. I just got caught up in the moment in your kitchen, and when you didn’t resist, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been wanting you since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

  He smiles and I feel my heart quiver. Then I remember that first time.

  “You mean right after you’d just fucked those two groupies?”

  I don’t say it harshly, but I’m not returning his smile, either.

  “To be honest, yeah,” he says. “But when I saw how sexy you looked in that dress at the gala, it got real.”

  Marcus evidently remembers his behavior that night as well, because he suddenly looks contrite.

  “Look, I know I can be an arrogant asshole. But that’s just how I am with people I don’t know. Once I began to realize how different you are from those other women, I knew I needed to change my approach.”

  I don’t know how sincere he is, and have no idea how to respond. Instead I return to the subject of safe sex.

  “Anyway, I’m usually the same about insisting on condoms, but I got carried away earlier, too. After we’d done it once, it didn’t seem to matter if we did it again. After tonight, though, we should probably rethink that.”

  Marcus nods. “After tonight. So, enjoy it while we can, right?”