Saturdays With Marcy

by Mary Winter

  He complied. Pulling his sweatshirt over his head, he moved slowly to give her tantalizing glimpses of his tanned, muscular chest. When he dropped the sweatshirt behind him, he noticed her lips had parted. He kicked off his shoes.

  “Your jeans,” Marcy whispered, her voice rough from arousal.

  He reached for his jeans. Her eyes seemed glued to his movements, and he moved slowly, opening the button, then gently sliding down the zipper. He thought he would burst, but kept his control, sliding the jeans down his hips and kicking them away. He stood there in his briefs.

  “These too?” he asked. He watched as Marcy’s gaze traveled the length of his body, pausing on the noticeable bulge in his briefs, before continuing down his legs. Her breathing grew ragged, and he watched, fascinated, as the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

  Controlling his smile of masculine pride, Kyle bent and pulled down his briefs. He paused, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of his bare skin, until he let the material drop around his ankles. With slow movements of his legs, he stepped out of them, and kicked the garment towards Marcy.

  His erection jutted before him. Veins wound around the solid shaft, and he watched as Marcy clenched her hand. Inwardly, he smiled. “Well,” he said, working hard to keep his voice nonchalant. “You have me naked, now what are you going to do with me?”

  Marcy stepped forward. “I’m going to make you watch me,” she said, reaching for the hem of her shirt. “You stand there, and don’t move.” Her harsh voice excited Kyle even further. His cock bobbed, and he swallowed hard.

  He watched as Marcy cupped her fingers around the hem of her shirt. Lifting slightly, she revealed a sliver of tanned skin. As she slowly lifted it skyward, Kyle suppressed a groan. Her white bra contrasted with her tanned skin, and when she finally threw her shirt aside and cupped her breasts through her bra, he suppressed a groan. Watching her thumbs massage her nipples aroused him even further, but he remained rooted in place.

  Marcy reached behind her. Kyle’s mouth went dry as she unhooked her bra and let it fall forward, freeing her breasts. She slid the straps from her arms, then dropped the scrap of lace to the floor in front of her. Reaching for her breasts, she focused her gaze on his erection.

  “You like my breasts, don’t you, Kyle?” She said, pinching her nipples into turgid peaks. “You love to suck on my nipples.” With her words, she raised a hand to her lips and sucked on her index finger.

  As he watched the slender digit disappear into her mouth, he thought of those same lips on his cock, and he closed his eyes against a spasm of pleasure.

  Marcy pulled her finger from her lips and ran it around her nipple. Her skin glistened. She slid her hand across her flat abdomen until she touched the waist band of her jeans.

  Kyle watched, smiling, as her hands shook as she unfastened her jeans. Slowly, she lowered the zipper, revealing her plain, pink cotton bikini underwear. Marcy shimmied the jeans from her hips and tossed them aside. Standing in front of him, with just a scrap of fabric covering her pussy, he fought against the urge to cross the space between them and pull her into his arms. Then, Marcy slid her fingers over her underwear.

  She caressed herself through the thin barrier, her finger sliding into her pussy. Closing her eyes, Marcy sighed as she worked her fingers against her underwear. “I’m wet,” she said, her gaze focused on Kyle’s. She reached for her underwear and stepped out of it. “Do you want to know how wet?”

  Kyle nodded, his throat too dry to speak.

  Marcy spread her legs. Her scent drifted to him, the musky scent of a woman aroused, and this time, Kyle couldn’t suppress his groan of pure masculine pleasure. “I want you,” he growled. “Let me come over there and fuck you.”

  “No.” Marcy stroked her finger along her outer lips, sliding inside. She circled her clit with her finger, pressing harder.

  Kyle watched as Marcy closed her eyes. Her ragged breathing told him she was as aroused as he, yet she continued to massage her pussy as if he weren’t even watching. After long moments, she pulled her fingers away. Her juices glistened on them, and without pausing, she brought them to her lips. Very deliberately, she reached out her tongue and licked her fingers.

  “Do you want to taste me?” She asked, pointing those same fingers at him.

  “You know I do,” Kyle replied. Without thinking, he stepped forward.

  Marcy stepped back. She shook her head. “You moved, honey. That’s against the rules.” She walked towards the night stand where the handcuffs lay in wait. “You know what comes next now.”

  Kyle nodded, though not without a smile on his face. He loved pressing the limits of Marcy’s rules, and the punishments were so delicious. He watched as she pulled open the drawer and removed the pair of handcuffs she had worn earlier that morning. With a slow, seductive walk that made her hips glide and her breasts sway, she strode over to him. She paused dramatically, then clicked the handcuff around his wrist. Using it as a leash, she pulled him over to the bed.

  “Lay down,” she ordered.

  Kyle complied, laying down on the bed. He raised his arm above his head, letting Marcy clasp the handcuff to the wrought-iron headboard. She straddled him and reached for the drawer on the other night stand.

  Kyle seized the moment. Marcy’s movement positioned her breast directly in front of his mouth, and he leaned up and captured her nipple with his lips. He sucked, nipping slightly, and swirling his tongue around the peak. Reaching around her, he cupped her ass, sliding his fingers down between her thighs.

  Marcy gasped, but didn’t restrain him any further. He heard the drawer shaking as she pulled it out, and he took the opportunity to press his fingers against her outer lips. He found her slick to the touch, and he worked his fingers along her pussy. She arched against him, burying his fingers even more deeply into her cunt.

  He heard the snick of the metal handcuff being opened, and suddenly, she reached behind him and captured his wrist. He allowed her to pull his hand away.

  “As much as I hate doing this,” she said, and fastened the cuffs to the headboard. “I have much better plans for you.”

  Marcy lowered her body so that he barely touched her. Kyle looked up at her, loving it when Marcy took control. Each time, she rediscovered his body with an intensity that left them both breathless. Marcy rocked against the tip of his cock inside her.

  “It...seems...to...me,” she said, thrusting against his cock to punctuate each word. Still, only the tip of him touched her. Reaching between them, she wrapped her hand around his shaft, stroking in counterpoint to her thrusts.

  Dance classes are good for something, Kyle thought to himself. She’s got great rhythm. He struggled to keep his body still.

  “That...I’ve...got...you...right...where...I...want...you.” With the last word, she released her grip on his cock and thrust down on him. Marcy moaned, leaning forward.

  Kyle rattled the handcuffs against the headboard in an attempt to reach for her breasts. For a moment, he’d forgotten she had restrained him, and he growled low in his throat. Stretching his neck, he tried to capture one of Marcy’s nipples in his mouth, but he couldn’t. She swayed, keeping those luscious buds just scant inches away from his lips. Marcy placed her hands on his chest, effectively holding him down. “You are not in control here,” she said. She twisted her hips, working herself around his cock, and Kyle groaned on frustration.

  His body thrummed with a need for release. His cock felt so hard it hurt, and he bucked his hips, thrusting deeper inside Marcy. She gasped, then squeezed him with her inner muscles. Kyle wanted her. Reaching behind his head, he gripped the pillow in his fists, struggling against the sensations. Marcy leaned forward and dragged her fingernails over his chest, scraping her nails over his sensitive nipples. He cried out.

  The best sex always happened like this, one body struggling for dominion over the other. Clenching his buttocks, Kyle thrust
deep into Marcy. She cried out, the sound echoing in the room. Kyle’s world narrowed down to the pussy sheathed over his cock and the sensation of Marcy’s hands on his flesh. He pumped into her, his hips moving with a rhythm that soon had Marcy leaning back.

  With her eyes closed, breasts pointing towards the sky, one hand sliding down to stroke her clit, Kyle thought Marcy was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her fingers brushed him as he surged into her body, and Kyle shuddered. His balls tightened, and Kyle sucked in a breath. Too soon. It’s too soon.

  Marcy cried out. He watched her shudder, her orgasm racing through her body, and Kyle couldn’t control himself. With a growl, he came. Slamming his cock deep inside her, he groaned. Her vaginal muscles clamped around him, pumping him dry, and Marcy sagged on top of him, her breathing ragged.

  Kyle sank into the bedding. He lay there, his shaft still buried inside Marcy. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her to his chest, but the handcuffs prevented him from doing so. Instead, he watched her lay her cheek against his chest, her breath warm against his skin. Moments like these, he thought, were what kept him going when he couldn’t see her.

  Marcy raised her head. She blinked sleepily. “Your cell phone hasn’t rang. How did you get so lucky?” She asked.

  Kyle thought of his partner. With a wry twist of his lips, he wondered if he should tell her that Sage had the job of interviewing dancers who worked at a club that Lu–Marc, the French spy they were tracking down, was reputed to own. Sage had told Kyle that since he had Marcy, and Sage had no one, that it might be best if Kyle didn’t participate in this part of the investigation. “Apparently he doesn’t need me,” Kyle said, not wanting to divulge more to Marcy. The less she knew about his job with the FBI the better.

  “That’s not any fun. How come you didn’t have to go into the office?” Marcy asked. She rolled to the side and tangled her legs with his. With her hand, she lightly traced his hip.

  “Got lucky I guess.” He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want to talk about work right now.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Nothing,” Kyle replied. “I want to lay here and enjoy this time with you. God only knows when my cell phone is going to ring, and I’ll have to leave again.”

  “Okay,” Marcy said, then drifted into silence. After long moments, she reached for the keys to the handcuffs. She uncuffed him from the bed, then settled her cheek against his chest once more.

  Kyle brought his arms around her, holding Marcy close. He heard her breathing slow, and knew she had drifted off to sleep. He should rest too, he thought. His shaft ached from their many bouts of lovemaking, but worry kept him awake. Words swarmed through his mind, Lu-Marc’s words of a week ago. Kyle had tried to banish them from his memory, tried to forget the temptation the Frenchman offered, but failed. Lying here in bed, with Marcy in his arms, here he was at his weakest.

  “You can help me, and I can make you rich.” Lu-Marc’s simple statement floated through his memory. Ten words, ten simple words, yet those same words would change his destiny. Marcy worried about him when he went out on missions, and he didn’t blame her. Love made a man think, and right now, he knew he never wanted to be parted from her again. If he were rich, it would solve all their problems. He tried not to believe the traitor’s words, yet in his heart, knew that they were true. He held Marcy tighter and drifted into sleep.

  #

  Kyle woke to darkness. The bed felt strangely empty, and when he reached across it, he encountered only empty mattress. In the kitchen, he heard the rattle of pots and pans, and the aroma of Marcy’s delicious spaghetti sauce drifted to his nose. He blinked sleepily and glanced at her alarm clock. The dial read nearly eight o’clock at night, and he yawned. Rolling over, he grabbed his cell phone and the display lit up. He hadn’t missed any calls. For once, he thought, he could have a normal Saturday with Marcy without being interrupted by his job. He grinned and rose from the bed. Dressing in his jeans, he padded barefoot and bare-chested into the kitchen.

  Marcy stood by the stove stirring a pot. Behind it, he saw spaghetti boiling in a larger pot, and the smells of a rich tomato sauce and garlic bread filled the kitchen. His stomach rumbled, giving him away.

  Marcy turned from the stove. She grinned when she saw him. Setting her spoon down on a paper towel, she walked over to him and hugged him. “You’re awake,” she said. She ran her fingers through his hair, taming it somewhat, and Kyle smiled at the gesture.

  “Yeah, I guess you wore me out.” He chuckled. “Making your famous spaghetti? What’s the occasion?”

  “You’re here,” she replied. “Do I need a ‘special occasion’?”

  Kyle shook his head. “Guess not. It smells heavenly. What can I do to help?”

  Marcy pointed to the kitchen chair. “Sit down. Everything should be finished in a few moments.”

  Kyle followed orders, pulling out the kitchen chair and sitting. He thought about asking if he could set the table, but a quick glance told him that two place settings, including wine glasses, already sat waiting for their dinner. He watched Marcy move around the kitchen, orchestrating this dinner with an ease he envied. Most nights, he ate take out at the office, or if he were home, microwaved a dinner that tasted like the cardboard box in which it came.

  He wanted to tell Marcy about the choice Lu-Marc had placed in front of him, but fear made him keep his lips sealed. She wouldn’t understand; he’d told her so little about his work. To know that if he accepted Lu-Marc’s proposal, it meant turning against Sage, Allen, really all the guys he’d worked with for years. He sighed. Perhaps it wasn’t worth it, then Marcy turned around and smiled at him as she carried a huge bowl full of spaghetti to the table, and Kyle knew that he’d go to the ends of the Earth if Marcy asked.

  The ringing of his cell phone jarred him from the moment. Kyle instinctively reached for it at his hip, but his hand met with only empty air. Realizing that he had left the phone in the bedroom, he ignored Marcy’s grimace and darted into the other room.

  “Agent Denison speaking,” he said in a curt voice.

  “Kyle. Hate to interrupt, but I have some information and we need to talk about it down at headquarters. How soon can you be there?” Sage, his partner said.

  Kyle thought of Marcy in the kitchen working on a spaghetti supper that would be delicious, and the afternoon spent making love to her. He wanted to say give him a day, two days, hell give him two weeks before he had to go back to the crush of his investigative work where he didn’t know how long it would be again before he had a free moment with Marcy, but he didn’t. “I’ll be there in half an hour,” Kyle said. He’d have to find a way to explain this to Marcy. He knew it.

  If Sage heard the reluctance in his voice, he gave no indication. “See you then.” The phone went dead, and Kyle knew he had been summoned.

  Kyle stared at the cellular phone in his hand, then clipped it to his belt. He patted his back pocket to be sure his badge and his wallet where safely tucked away, then quickly threw his clothing into his duffle bag sitting in the corner of the room. Hefting it over his shoulder, he walked into the kitchen.

  Marcy looked at the duffel bag, then turned back to the counter. “You have to go, don’t you?” she said softly.

  Kyle set the bag on the floor, then stepped forward. He caressed her chin with his finger, tilting her head up so she could meet his gaze. “I do. I’m sorry.”

  “I know,” Marcy said. “At least let me send you off with some of this food.” She quickly scooped up generous portions of spaghetti and sauce. “There should be enough here for Sage, too.”

  “Thanks.” Kyle brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Someday, I won’t leave you like this.”

  “I know,” Marcy replied. She kissed his cheek. “Be safe.”

  “I always am.” He turned and gathered his duffle bag, then walked out to his car. Sitting behind the wheel, staring back at the apartment building, he thought of the offer, and sud
denly, he knew what his answer would be.