by Emerson Rose
When I’ve got the perfect rhythm of suck, slide, and tongue rolling over his head, I slide my hands around to his rock hard ass and that tiny electric charge hits me like a bomb in my core when I feel his muscles clench with every forward thrust of his hips. As always, in the throes of passion, I feel as if the world falls away, no one exists but the two of us in this moment, right here, right now. I’m under his spell and I’d do anything he asked of me, abso-fucking-lutely anything. His fingers begin to claw at my head and I feel him swell inside the warm walls of my mouth and I know he’s close.
“Look at me, Imani, let me look at you when I come!” I raise my eyes to meet his and what I see could quite possibly stop my heart. A storm of adoration, love, passion and devotion clouds his eyes, and at the exact moment, I take more of him than I thought I could. He releases with a roar, pulsing while I finish him off with one last long draw until there is no more to take and his hands relax in my hair.
“Fuuuuck… you are amazing.” I smile and roll my eyes. “Are you OK? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Um, no, quite the opposite really.”
“Hmmm.” He tilts his head to the side, regarding me thoughtfully. “So, what do we do now?” He teases and I smack his thigh at the same time he pushes me gently back against the couch, kneeling between my legs, spreading them wide open. I brace myself for heaven and grip the edge of the cushions. I’m so wound up I think I may come the second his tongue touches my sensitive, ready folds. He has Olympic skills in this art. However, I’m kept on edge for what seems like eternity while he licks and strokes my clit, circling until I’m surely going to explode. Then reining it in, he blows warm puffs of breath over my sex, teasing me with kisses everywhere but where I desperately need them to be.
“Ahh… Marcus, please. God, don’t make me wait anymore!” I cry. He knows he’s given me all I can take and he ends it with one last long torturous lick from back to front before circling my hungry bundle of nerves and sucking it between his lips. My body arches off of the edge of the couch, his hands support me as I burst open and release with an unintelligible scream.
My pulse is the only sound I hear rushing in my ears, one hundred and ten beats per minute of pure unadulterated bliss until my sated body melts into the soft cushions I’ve probably just permanently wrinkled with my death grip. When I open my eyes and stare at the chandelier hanging above, he pops the bubble of rapture with his gruff sexy voice. “Still bored?”
“HA! No, that was definitely the complete opposite of bored, I retract my statement!”
“I knew you would.”
“Mmmhmm, so did I.”
One Hundred Seven
Saturday evening I stand in front of the full length mirror in our walk-in closet turning to look at my profile, nope, nothing yet. No bump, but my clothes are certainly starting to get a little snug and uncomfortable. Thankfully, this dress has some stretch to it. Smoothing my hands over the deep plum colored garment, I rest my hands on my hips, turning a little bit to the left and then the right. Man, our wedding can’t come soon enough. I’d like to fit into my dress without looking pregnant, if at all possible.
“Mmmmm,” Marcus is standing just inside the door, moaning his appreciation for my dress, or me, or both.
“You like?”
“I love.” He moves behind me, propping his chin on my shoulder, pulling me flush to his exquisitely suited body. Casual everyday Marcus is difficult enough to resist, but Marcus in a black suit and deep purple tie is criminal, nobody should be allowed to look this fucking good.
“You look pretty good yourself, sir.”
“Only next to you, baby.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I snort, he doesn’t need me to look stunning.
“You just need one more thing, don’t move.” I stand where he’s left me, tapping my hands against my thighs nervously, wondering what he’s doing. Shit, he had better not be getting a pen, the last time we dressed up for dinner I ended up with his signature covering every inch of my body!
“Close your eyes.”
“Oh no, no way. I’d like my skin to stay clean tonight, thanks.”
“I am not going to write on you, Imani. Close your eyes.” I sag in defeat and pout, closing my eyes to wait for whatever it is he’s about to do.
“Lift your hair.” Oh… well, okay then. I lift the heavy ringlets away from my skin and his hands skim my throat before I feel the cool metal of a choker tighten and hear the click of a clasp closing. I drop my hair and instinctively bring my hands to try and stop the constriction but he holds them back and I open my eyes.
“What’s this?” The panic of having something around my neck shows on my face and his grip loosens immediately. I slide my fingers across rows of diamonds that circle my neck, he turns me by the shoulders to face the mirror again and I gasp at the beauty of it. Ten rows of diamonds form a thick band all the way around my throat. It’s exquisite and over the top, as is everything Marcus does.
“Do you like it?”
“Wow,” I breathe and continue to brush my fingers over the extravagant piece of jewelry. “It’s so… sparkly,” I say but I want to say tight. It fits so closely I won’t be able to move a muscle without thinking about it being there. He kisses my skin below the choker.
“You’ll get used to it, it’s supposed to be snug.
“Can it be loosened?” I try to slide a finger under it and find that I can’t.
“It fits perfectly. I promise you will forget about it in a couple of hours.”
“This seems important to you, what’s going on?”
“I bought my wife a necklace. There is no ulterior motive. If you don’t like it we can exchange it for something different.”
“No, it’s beautiful, just… tight. I don’t have to wear it all the time like the bracelet, do I?” I ask holding out my arm that always sports the gorgeous, albeit ridiculously expensive quarter million dollar cuff, at his insistence. He cocks his head back surprised by my question.
“Of course not, baby, you don’t have to wear anything if you really don’t want to.”
“You made it pretty clear I wasn’t to take this off.” I hang my limp wrist out to him.
“I just wanted you to know how much it means to me that you wear it. I was under the impression that you liked it.”
“I do like it, it’s just not… I dunno… appropriate sometimes. It’s so expensive I’m afraid someone will cut my arm off to take it, that’s all.”
“No one is going to hurt you, Imani, or steal your bracelet.”
“Are you sure?” Shit, I didn’t mean to say that, my suspicions about Mr. Black are showing and the puzzled look on his face tells me he’s never even considered the fact that Black might not be one of the good guys.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I’m suddenly witnessing a side of my husband I’m not familiar with, his controlled calm tone wavers. “Nothing, forget I said anything. It’s fine. I wasn’t planning on taking the bracelet off anyway. I love it, I’ve always loved it.” I stretch up on my toes and kiss him chastely on the cheek.
“No, you mean something else. I know you do, tell me.”
It’s ‘do or die’ here, and I’m going for it. “Have you noticed that a lot of security breaches have occurred over the past few months?” This is probably a really bad idea. Marcus has lost so many people in his life that were important to him, and Mr. Black has been with him forever, but the nagging gut feeling I’ve been having isn’t going to go away unless I just ask and put it to rest. Deep frown lines form between his eyes and I’m concerned that I’ve stepped over an imaginary line.
“Imani, if you have something specific to tell me, say it now.” His words are steady and his tone familiar, but there’s an underlining vibration of danger, of warning, of menace. Without thinking, I take a step away from him. I’ve always been comfortable talking about anything with Marcus with the exception of his previous personality changing moments before his surgery
. This is unfamiliar territory, though, and I’m not sure what to expect. He reaches for me but hesitates, dropping his hand to his side before he makes contact.
“Are you… are you afraid of me, Imani?” His voice is strangled with a mixture of disbelief and anger, my head spins trying to interpret his state of mind.
“No, well, a little maybe. I just don’t want to overstep my boundaries.”
“Overstep. Now,” he barks and I inhale deeply before I begin to relay my theory.
“Well, I was thinking the other day at Serena’s house that it was strange that Mr. Black has been your head of security for, I don’t even know how long.”
“He has been with me since I was a child,” he interrupts, and I rearrange my thoughts to go about this more carefully.
“Okay, yes, of course, he’s been like a father figure to you. I understand, and please don’t think I’m pointing fingers or laying blame. This is purely observation.” I raise my eyebrows, tipping my chin down asking for confirmation to go on.
“Yes, I see, continue.”
“Like I was saying, he has been with you a long time and sometimes when you get comfortable with someone it’s difficult to see the forest for the trees, for lack of a better description.” He looks like he’s going to stop me again, but I hold out my hand to signal I’m not through yet and he closes his mouth, crossing his arms over his chest in a show of disapproval.
“When I met you, when I first stepped foot into this beautiful house, it felt like an impenetrable fortress, but only weeks later, I was nearly attacked by a woman with a hunting knife in my own bed. Doesn’t that seem strange?” Before he answers, I continue, “And then we had another close call at Dominus with an attacker, and an iPad is delivered to you without being examined. It only held a threatening message, but what if it had some sort of explosive in it? I mean, did anyone even look at it before giving it to you? And Maria is dead, and now I find out an old employee of yours was attacked and paralyzed by a client years ago. How many other incidents have there been? Shouldn’t the head of security be catching these things?” So much for going easy and gentle. Once I started, it avalanched, and now I’m standing in a pile of accusations I have no way to prove. I search his face for something, anything that might tell me how he’s going to react but there is absolutely nothing, complete flat, and that’s more terrifying than any angry expression I’ve ever seen cross his face. He turns to leave me standing alone in the closet wringing my hands, wondering if I’ve done the right thing.
I pace in front of the mirror in my beautiful gown, dripping with diamonds and teetering on heels that no one in their right mind would subject their feet to. This is supposed to be a night of announcements and celebration, and I’ve just single handedly fucked it up.
“Imani,” he calls, I halt my pacing and go to the bedroom where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing the back of his neck with his eyes closed. “You may be right.”
“Really? I mean, I’ve thought it, but that doesn’t mean it's fact. I just thought it was worth mentioning. I don’t want to cause trouble or conflict…”
“No, I’m glad you said something. It has crossed my mind before as well. There are just some things that can’t be explained away. The things you have noticed are only the tip of the iceberg. I have been in denial. I didn’t want to believe the only person who has been by my side for all of these years could be dirty.” He’s looking at me now, all the anger and tension from his voice gone, replaced with disappointment, disillusion and sadness.
“I could be wrong, Marcus. It was only an observation.”
“An accurate one, though, I am afraid.” He crooks his finger at me to come closer and I step between his legs, his arms wrap around my waist and he presses his cheek against my chest. The need for comfort seeps from his body and my desire to provide it is overwhelming. I drop a kiss on his head right next to the wide scar that is now mostly covered by his thick dark hair and stroke his back up and down while he holds me.
“I’m sorry, this isn’t how I wanted tonight to be, I should have waited for another time to say something.”
“No. I want you to always tell me what is on your mind, no secrets. I need one person in my life to always be forthright with me and that person is you.”
I gently push him away by his shoulders and capture his eyes. “Always,” I say pressing my lips gently against his, driving the message home that I am always on his side and I will always be here for him.
“Thank you.” Those two words, spoken while he is looking up through his long thick eyelashes, are packed with meaning and requisite, and if it’s at all possible, they make me love him more.
“We need to go.” He speaks the words but his hands are wandering over my ass and his eyes are darkening.
“Yes, we do.” I remove his roaming hands and take ahold of his tie, pulling him from the edge of the bed.
He hisses and cocks his head. “You keep doing things like that and the party tonight will be cancelled.” His eyes follow the trail from my hand holding his tie back up to my face, lifting his brows suggestively. I drop the tie and take a step backwards.
“Oh no, this is all planned, my family is probably already at the restaurant, we can’t back out now!”
He sweeps his arm toward the door in a grand gesture, “Lead the way then, Mrs. Castillo.”
When we arrive at Dominus, it’s dark, snowing and cold as hell. I’m grateful to have a driver that drops us off at the front door instead of walking from the parking lot. There are only five steps to take through the weather and I’m wrapped in Marcus’s warm embrace, where I would never know that it is February in Seattle. Inside, we are greeted by the always perky and perfectly dressed ‘hostess with the mostess.’ Marcus acknowledges her presence but breezes past her into the main dining room and up the curving staircase in the center, guiding me with his hand at the small of my back.
The heat from his hand spreads through my body, and as always, it stirs the simmering passion brewing just below the surface, waiting to boil over. A time and place, Imani, this is neither the time nor the place. Hormones, sheesh! All eyes in the place are on us, well, Marcus probably; the women drooling with forks and drinks paused halfway to their mouths and the men with either envy or irritation that he has stolen their dates’ attention.
Marcus is oblivious of his effects, though, or that’s how he lets on, just striding along, paying all of his attention to me and I fucking love it. We haven’t had much public exposure, so I’ve not had to share him with anyone or anything while he’s been sick and recovering, but all that is going to change. I’m going to have to learn to be separated from him when he goes back to work full-time here at Dominus and when he travels to check on other locations.
“You are very beautiful tonight. I want you to know that, alright?”
“Okay… everything OK?” We stop in the hall outside the door to our reserved room and I slide my fingers up his angular clean shaven jaw to cup his cheek in my hand. We are out of the line of sight of any customers now and his hands slide around my waist.
“Yes, I just don’t like sharing you with other people in public. I hate how their eyes roam. I don’t tell you enough how lovely you are.” His eyes sparkle in the reflective lights of the chandelier above us; the sharp green irises with their lilac ring along with his compliments make me swoon. At least I think that’s what is causing the fuzzy feeling in my head and a moment of cloudy vision. I blink until I can see him clearly again, but he’s seen the disturbance and read my reaction.
“You aren’t feeling well.”
“No, I mean, yes, I am. Just a little dizzy for a second and look at these shoes, wouldn’t you be a little wobbly?” He peeks down at my shoes and lifts his eyebrows.
“Why would you wear those? I love them but you could snap your ankle and then where would we be? Take them off.”
“What? I can’t go around barefoot in this gorgeous dress and all of this jewelry!”
; “Why not, it’s our restaurant and we have a private room, you are taking those death trap stilts off, end of conversation.” He pushes open the door and guides me in the same way he did downstairs but with a stronger hold now. The first person I see as we cross the large private dining room is, of course, my mother. She is dressed differently than I’ve ever seen her in a grey floor length formal gown. She’s up and out of her seat at warp speed, hugging me and then Marcus, with Latoya and dad a few steps behind dressed similarly in formal dinner attire.
“Oh, I am so happy you two are home and look at you! Your hair has all grown back and your color is so good. How are you feeling?” She briefly lays her hand on Marcus’s cheek when she speaks of his coloring and then turns to me. “When did you two get in? You look so beautiful, that dress is… oh my, that choker!” She’s breathless from her constant string of questions and compliments. I slip my hand into hers and squeeze.
“We are both fine, Mom. Marcus is recovering well, and thank you for the compliment. We have been home almost a week now.”
“A week?” She glances to Marcus and back to me frowning. I should have lied; it would have been easier, but we are here to tell them everything so I may as well start with this.
“There were some sudden reasons to return home, Jade. Why don’t we sit down and get comfortable and discuss it.” My dad reaches an appreciative hand to Marcus and they greet each other the way men do.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Jefferson.”
“Nero, please call me Nero. You’re my son-in-law now and nobody calls me Mr. Jefferson.”
“Alright then, good to see you, Nero.”
“This is quite the place you’ve got; we have never been here before.” Dad takes mom’s hand to lead her back to the table while Latoya embraces me quietly, and when she pulls away, she looks at me as if she knows my secret but I’m not spilling the beans just yet.
