23. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Leighton

T he thick molasses that's holding me under clears by a fraction.

The change doesn't happen on its own. It happens because Marcus has allowed it.

Over the last few minutes, he'd been putting me in a trance somehow. I sensed how my muscles gave in first, my mind second. He hadn't planned on it.

By the tentative look in Marcus's gaze and this different approach, I could tell it took him by surprise as well.

He didn't force me. I could've stopped him at any moment.

Yet I didn't.

"Leighton?" His black eyes aren't any less dark here, under the sun. "What do you want? "

I'm still under, that much is clear. He's induced me into a state of trance enough times that I recognize it.

But there's one conscious thought that won't leave me.

One thing to soothe me in this terrifying pool.

"Sit," I blurt out.

Marcus cocks an eyebrow. "Both of us?"

Beneath his harsh, inquisitive glare, an emotion glimmers. Something that looks dangerously like hope. Like he really meant everything he said about family and our future.

"Yes." The word comes out shrill.

Marcus doesn't smile or laugh. He only leads me down to sit on the first step of the pool. The first one before many others. Or just a few. They end up in the water. Not too deep, but still. Uncomfortable. Where I'm not safe.

Where I'll drown.

No air. No air. No…

"Leighton."

My ass is seated inside the water. Two strong hands grip my shoulders. My body is made of rags. It twists easily and moves around for Marcus.

"Calm down."

I'm seated on his lap, facing the pool. My back is to him.

The trance I'm in isn't as deep as it was the last time. Maybe because we started it differently. Maybe because we didn't start it, really.

Maybe it's because he ordered me to speak. Gave me a slice of freedom.

Whatever it was, I'm able to move now. Kinda .

I lean in, my back melting into the firm wall that is Marcus's chest.

"There you are." A soft welcome is spoken in a hoarse voice.

His hands run through my hair, brushing it to my front. I'm finding more comfort as his fingertips slide to my nipples, pinching them, twisting them, hardening them.

Knowing Marcus, I understand where this is coming from. Why he's holding off on the questions of, "What's next?" and "Tell me."

He's using this silence to crawl into my mind. Asking his questions outright would intimidate me. He's not intimidating me today. He promised.

"My good girl." Deft hands map the softness of my stomach. They pause at my needy sex, and a moan escapes me. "My beautiful brat. My sweet whore. My perfect little doll. You're mine."

I hear his crudeness. I recognize his beauty in it.

"You're beautiful like this. In the sun. Do you feel how beautiful you are? How mine you are?"

His erection pokes my ass, but Marcus doesn't rush anything. He talks and talks so my mind would drift somewhere it can find itself again.

"Yes," I peep out.

"I love you." Marcus kisses my temple, his stubble delightfully itchy.

"Love…" I sigh .

The low rumble of his chuckle reverberates through his chest. My bones shiver in response. I had no idea they could do that.

"Yes. Love." He flattens his hand on my heart center. "I. Love. You."

I don't see him gathering water from the low level of the pool. I feel it. Drop after drop, water trickles on my sticky thighs. On my stomach. Soaking through my hair.

Time and space are strange concepts when I'm in a trance. Seconds stretch and contract. The leaves of the plants outside move slowly, then rush forward. The water in the pool seems deep, then shallow. Safe and scary.

"You wanted something from me." Marcus plays with my clit between two fingers. The other hand closes around my throat. "You let me have my way. Let me get you inside the pool. It's your turn to tell me what you want."

What I want isn't clear-cut. The vague notion doesn't have a face or a body. He did it to me before, this thing I want. But for the life of me, I can't place my finger on it.

This not-knowing frustrates me. A sudden wave of agitation courses through my body. My mouth snaps shut. My eyes narrow in the slightest.

What's wrong with me?

"Shh." His hand on my throat squeezes and loosens its grip. He's doing it at the same pace he grabs and lets go of my pussy, lulling me into a state of peacefulness. "I have you. You're safe. Your subconscious struggles to ask for what it needs. You're scared. And that's okay. "

"Yes." I almost cry when he says what I'm too numb to describe. "Yes."

"We could try another approach." Marcus's cock swells behind me.

Heat pools at my core. There's pressure between my thighs. In my lower abdomen. In my other, tighter hole. I'm not even bothered when Marcus parts his legs and my ass slides to the mosaic tiles on the floor.

I like this new approach already.

"Yes," I hum.

Manhandling my pliant body, he flips me to face him. He curses low and dangerous as he arranges my legs to straddle him. His hips strain, pushing against me as he settles my hands around his neck.

"I'm going to give you what you want." After Marcus fastens his hold on my waist, he levels our gazes. "Going to put my cock in your mouth."

The water , a voice screams inside my head.

"Help."

Marcus shows one of his rare signs of emotion while I'm in a trance. One that isn't anger or tenacity. The corners of his eyes crinkle, his lips press tight together. He's concerned.

Instead of freaking me out, his apprehension soothes my frayed nerves. He's considering how to approach this without hurting me.

Eventually, his features morph into those of Dr. Kingston. The impenetrable mask of the detached psychiatrist is back in place.

Sharp jaw clenched. Gaze detached .

"Little doll."

When I don't respond, he takes charge of me. His doll.

Marcus shoves me back on his legs, in the direction of his knees. Once I'm there, he cups the back of my neck, guiding my head down to his groin.

The outline of his erection is visible through his briefs. The thick head, the girth, his length. I feel the smooth and rough strokes of his thumb on my scalp. How he controls me and loves me on the way down.

A part moan, part sigh passes past my lips.

Only then does he speak. "Does my cock look like it's underwater to you?"

My vision sharpens at his question. Beyond the veil of panic, my mind makes sense of what my eyes grasp. I'm able to see the shape of his cock. It's not blurred.

The water level here reaches the middle of his thigh. Safe.

"No," I whisper.

Marcus tilts my head up, and my eyes meet his. "Good girl. Now, how do you feel about having my cock in your mouth?"

While he talks, Marcus moves one hand to my wrist. He curls his fingers lightly around it and places the heel of my hand on top of his briefs. On his cock. My fingertips touch the taut skin of his stomach.

He throbs for me.

He relaxes me.

"Want." I feel my lips curling up. "That's what I wanted."

My elusive need. What I thought would be fun playtime but also what would bathe me in warmth. Until he decides it's time to tell me about Rylan—although I'm pretty sure I know by now—I don't crave the truth. I crave him . Only him.

The pacifying feeling of being full of him without roughness or coercion.

A sense of peace.

My mind couldn't tell me what I needed. Marcus did. A slippery tear of gratitude streaks down my cheek.

And there he is, my hero dragging me to him by my neck, licking the salty trail from my cheek. Kissing me.

"There's no one else who'd know you as well as I do." His hand covers mine where I hold his cock. His fingers move mine lower, placing my fingertips on his boxers' waistline. "No one would love and take care of you like I do."

Our foreheads press together. My lips tingle with each of his breaths.

"My beautiful doll." He releases my hand, and now both of his grab both sides of my face possessively. "You can have what you want. Take my cock out. Touch me however you need. Wrap your lips around me. I'm. All. Yours."

Our eyes are locked as I lower his boxers down his cock. My knuckles caress his thickness on the way down. His veins pulse for me.

My breaths are laden, but I'm not panicking. It's the lust that curls around my lungs. The sweet desire that makes struggling for breath so fucking worth it.

"Use me," he commands.

For a beat, I'm not sure what that means.

Where I'm hesitating, Marcus doesn't. He eviscerates the inch of space that separates us, crushing his mouth to mine. Swallowing my breath. Owning me with every swipe of his tongue on mine.

We kiss like we're famished. Our fingers dig and search over skin and flesh and beating hearts.

"No." He stops when I whimper into his mouth and grind on his legs, desperate for friction. "You'll come later. You'll come so many times, you won't remember your fucking name."

The things he says and his devious glare have me rocking my hips again. I pout in resentment, frowning at him. "Now."

"Brats get punishments, Leighton."

"Now."

"You asked for it." His hands are firm and demanding when they find my hips. "This orgasm you're after? I'm giving you a trigger word for it now."

My insides swoop. Heat pummels through me. Excitement lights my nerve endings one by one.

Marcus's eyes drill into mine. "Whenever I say the word, cloud , you'll come. Do you understand?"

"Yes." This doesn't sound like a punishment. I stroke his cock. Desperate, eager, needy for him. For all the orgasms he can give me. "Please."

"Leighton," he hisses. "I'll start counting backward. Then you'll be fully awake for what I'm about to do to you. Five… Four…"

Marcus doesn't add flowery descriptions between the numbers. Regardless, I sense his pull, how he's dragging me out from under .

"Three… Two…One…" A vicious glint sparks on his face. "Zero."

I inhale sharply.

Marcus doesn't wait for me to be done with that breath. "Cloud."

A violent orgasm slashes through me. I cling onto his firm body as mine quivers and rocks from the swift, surprising pleasure.

It's as strong as if Marcus had his cock duplicated and it's fucking both my pussy and ass while his mouth is eating me out.

Impossible.

Still, I feel it.

"Oh my God." I grab onto his shoulders for dear life. Water sloshes around me, my knees scraping on the pool's mosaic floor. "Oh, my fucking God, what is that?"

Marcus doesn't hesitate. "Cloud."

This time, when I orgasm, I scream. The pleasure remains just as sweet, except I'm incredibly sensitive down there. Swollen as I'm riding the waves of my first orgasm.

His lips part ever so slightly.

"No, please." One of my hands flies to his mouth, shutting him up.

He cocks an eyebrow. Keeps a firm grip on my hips.

Rips my hand from his mouth.

"Cloud."

My climax tears my pussy in half. My ass. My fucking nipples orgasm as far as my brain is concerned. They're pointed, taut, aching. Even my mouth comes. I don't know how that happens, it just does. It just fucking does.

"Fuck," I scream. "Stop, I can't. I can't."

"Little doll, you should be thanking me instead of crying."

When I cover his mouth again, Marcus makes work of gripping both my wrists. He fastens my hands to his chest, locking them there.

"Thank you?" My lungs burn with the need to breathe. My pussy is sore, as if Marcus pounded into it for a whole week straight. "You're a fucking sadist."

"I am." His smirk scares me. "A caring one. I could've forced you to come again and again while you were in a trance. Can you imagine the emotional distress?"

"You wouldn't have," I gasp.

"You're right." He chuckles, and it's dark. So dark that goosebumps prickle my skin. "I would never fuck with your mind like that. Which is why you should be thanking me."

"For not being a total asshole?" I love his games. I love putting him in place too. "Never, you psy—"

His grip on my wrists is bruising. His free hand dives between my pussy lips. I feel his fingers rubbing and stroking my swollen clit. The pleasure and pain mix together, overwhelming me.

"You were saying?" The poison in his voice can't mean anything good.

I should crawl to him on my hands and knees. Take his cock in my mouth. Find peace within this madness.

I should shut up.

I don't .

To every sadist, there's their masochist.

"I'll never thank you for this," I hiss, raising an eyebrow in defiance. "Cruel, motherfucking sadist."

"Cloud."

"No," I whine as the heat of my orgasm pulsates through me. The sensations intensify when he rubs me the way he does. "No."

"Yes." Marcus shoves three fingers inside me, his thumb torturing my clit. "Cloud."

I'm being torn to pieces. Shredded from the inside out. He curls his fingers inside me mercilessly as he strokes my G-spot. Trying to destroy me with his touch.

"Please." My tears ripple down my cheeks. "My body… I'm too small. It's too much. You're too much. I can't. Stop."

"You know damn well I'm a man of my word, Leighton." He picks me up effortlessly and slides me onto his hard cock. Marcus sits against the edge of the pool, thrusting into me from the bottom. "You tried me. This is where it's gotten you."

His voice is hoarse as he fucks me. With each stroke, he's burrowing deeper into me. I'm blinded by the insidious pleasure. I'm seconds from fainting. I'm crashing and burning within my own body.

Somehow, though, when Marcus opens his mouth, I manage to find the strength to place a shaky hand on it.

Not like my hand is an obstacle for him. Marcus tilts his head to the side, licking between my fingers. This deviant man continues by sliding his lips up to my fingertip. I don't resist him when he swallows my middle finger into his mouth.

"Cloud," he murmurs past my finger .

I'm not even close to being ready for this orgasm.

His cock is actually inside me. This isn't my imagination.

This time, it's his dick stretching my walls.

It's too good. Too bad. Too everything.

This must be what it feels like to die.

"Stop," I cry, riding him anyway. Or maybe it's him using my body to fuck his cock. "Please, Jesus. Please, stop."

My hands drop to his broad chest as he releases them. Clawing. Grasping. Scratching. I leave red marks on his skin and I don't care. He's mine. The devil who got us into this mess in the first place is mine.

I hate and love him as if the two aren't mutually exclusive.

"When I have my seed deep in your womb, plaything," Marcus grits out, his cock swells inside me. "That's when I'll stop."

"Fuck babies into me, do it." Tears trickle into my mouth, tasting of salt and desperation. "Just no more orgasms, please."

The possessiveness in Marcus's eyes is an undeniable force. He leans forward, licking my tears. Owning every piece of me. Branding his mouth on mine.

"You're going to be good?" he rasps between one vicious kiss after the other. "No more sulking?"

"I'll try," I tell him the truth. I'm such a mess, I couldn't have lied to him even if I wanted to.

"Good enough." His teeth tug at my bottom lip. "I'm going to come now."

It's bliss. It's heaven. And I don't fight him. I won't ever fight him again. I slump in his arms, letting him impale me on his cock. One, two, three more times. Then he's pumping his seed inside me, marking my insides with his cum.

There's no cuddling or hugging once he's done. Marcus pulls me off him, spreading his legs, and positions me so I'm kneeling before him.

"Come here." Marcus's cock is still hard, still leaking cum. Still insanely beautiful.

I don't have a spare moment to realize I'm on all fours. He winds his fingers in my hair, applying the slightest pressure to direct me to his groin.

My eyes flit to his. This isn't about sucking him, no. This is the softness of the after . About what I wanted before.

"You've been so good," he praises. "Take you what you want, baby. Open up and use my cock as a pacifier."

Giving himself to me is such an intimate gesture. I love it when he demands that I suck or gag on him. I love when he fists my hair and fucks my mouth.

But as I'm guided lower, I find that I love this just the same. I wrap my lips around his head first and slide down his silky length, filling my mouth with him. He presses my head down. Gentle yet with an air of authority, telling me he's there.

Loving me.

I reach the base of his cock, my lips touching his pubis. He groans, stroking my hair in the most reverent, gentlest caresses. I'm so weak from all the orgasms, I start to tremble from being on my hands and knees.

Marcus's second groan is frustrated .

"I don't want you to hurt," he reassures me quickly, bending his knees and pinning them to me. He's holding me up. "I've got you, Leigh. I've got you."

One after the other, he helps me until my hands are flat on his stomach and my elbows open to the sides.

He lets me rest on top of him. He's easing me into him. Into this peaceful state only he can give me.

Maybe I have died when one of my orgasms stopped and the other one started. I'm in heaven. This is heaven.

"How are you?" He cups my cheek.

How am I?

I have his cock as a pacifier. His legs as hedges. His eyes as the dark orbs that tell me this depravity isn't bad.

That we aren't sick.

That I'm good. That what we're doing is good.

This is everything I need. This world finally makes sense.

Although what he asked wasn't a yes or no question, I blink once. Marcus smiles in understanding, pulling me closer to him. With my forehead on his stomach, Marcus keeps running his hands through my hair for long minutes.

He's the best thing I've ever had in my mouth. Every once in a while, I lick him, dragging my tongue on his hard length, then return to my sleepy state.

On that last long, delicious lick, Marcus tenses.

"Jesus, I'm going to come again." His growl and the soft tug on my hair wake me from my half-sleep.

I whimper and signal no with my finger. No, as in, don't hold back .

His cum is mine. He is mine .

I close my lips. Swirl my tongue on his length. Hollow my cheeks and suck on his hard length.

"Fuck, Leighton. Oh, Jesus. Oh, fuck," Marcus hisses, his body jerking beneath me. "This isn't how"—his cum spurts in my mouth—"this was supposed to be."

I'm quiet when he releases his hold on me, peeking at him from beneath my lashes. Swallowing some of his seed, the rest drips down my chin and to his stomach.

I'm showing him it's okay. That this too, soothes me.

He might be rough. He might be controlling. He switches from being sweet and caring to insane in the blink of an eye.

I've been telling myself I hate these traits in a man. This volatility. This burning intensity.

Truth is, I don't.

Truth is, when the right person comes along, all of these so-called wrongs are the exact things that make him so, so, so right.