26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Leighton

R eading Marcus's expressions is a skill I've mastered during our stay here.

Back home, I could tell when he was happy. That was an easy one. He'd smile softly at Rylan whenever she beat him in one of their swimming competitions. He'd offer me a tiny, grateful smile, if at all, for helping around the kitchen.

Other than that, I was pretty clueless. I chalked up his seriousness to, well, him being serious. That there was nothing more to it.

In hindsight, I realize how wrong I'd been.

A range of emotions plays on Marcus's face every minute of every hour. For those who look close enough.

His lips twitch in the slightest when a sinister thought runs through his deviant mind.

His jaw tics this one ominous time when his temper rises .

The corners of his eyes crinkle just a tiny bit when he's about to pounce on me.

And now, with his forehead creased and his fingers tapping the arm of the chair he's occupying, I see the nerves eating at him.

Silence permeates his study. Yesterday, after we got out of the pool, was one of the best days of my life. He soaped me up, put me in a trance, and fucked my helpless body like it was the last thing he'd ever do.

Today's air just feels…tense.

We face each other. I'm on the therapy couch, wearing a teal-colored maxi summer dress. He's in his psychiatrist attire, donning a pair of gray slacks and a dark gray button-down shirt.

His full manly lips are pressed together. His fingers tapping.

He's looking at me without really looking. He's staring past my eyes to somewhere far away.

I'm sitting cross-legged, exposed to him, and he doesn't look at me.

I don't like it. I hate it.

When Marcus is anything other than self-assured, I'm terrified.

"Hey, Marcus?" My fingers scrape the cushions.

I'm waiting for him to reply.

His gaze remains unfocused. The creases in his forehead don't smooth over.

I wait some more.

One .

Two.

Three.

"Marcus."

The metaphorical ice melts. His gaze crashes into mine. Heated. Focused. He's here. "Little doll."

Our roles reverse, and I ask him the question he'd normally ask, "Where were you?"

His lips quirk to the side, acknowledging I've taken his place. "Nowhere in particular."

I dip my chin, pinning him with a don't bullshit me look.

"You won't let this go." His voice is husky. He seems…tired. No. Marcus is never tired. He's preoccupied. Has to be.

"Never."

He drags his chair closer to me, his hand cupping my cheek. "There's nothing I can hide from you anymore, is there?"

My skin tingles. My heart beats faster at the feel of his possessive palm. I instantly feel safer. It's these simple gestures that eviscerate the bad thoughts in my head. He holds power over them.

Only him.

"Nope." I lean into his touch. "Tell me."

"I tried calling Dr. Hatchett while you've been sleeping." He sucks in a deep breath. "I couldn't get a hold of her."

Shit.

"Was it today?"

"I've been calling her for the last two days." His frustration shows as he rakes his hand through his hair and slumps back into his chair. "First, she didn't pick up. I tried again this morning, and it was turned off. Her secretary said she'd texted her, explaining she had to go away due to a family emergency."

"You think she's lying?" A foreboding feeling clings to my pores. I don't want to hear the answer. I have to.

"Dr. Hatchett doesn't have a family," he growls, leaning forward.

Marcus never moves this much unless he's fucking me. This too, freaks me the fuck out. His elbows are on his knees, fingers steepled as he lets the information sink in.

My pulse thrums inside my head, loud and ominous. "Do you think Ry got to her?"

"I did. I do. What I still don't get is how." Determination slips into his features, his mouth pressing into a tight line. "Rylan's home. Milo dropped by at dawn. He sat by her side and babbled on and on about the weather for ten minutes straight before he went to grab something from the fridge. She got up right after and they ate in the kitchen. Didn't exhibit any of the signs predicting her violent outbursts. It could be a code, the weather nonsense. I couldn't tell."

"But she's still looking for us."

"Yes. I have no idea what she's searching on her laptop, though. What leads she had." His eyes pinch shut, and he rubs his temples. "Maybe she doesn't have a single fucking lead. Other than kidnapping my therapist. I… Fuck. I have to get over there."

No. No, no, no , I shout inside my head. He can't leave me. Can't put himself in harm's way for no one .

My mouth doesn't cooperate. My inner screams are followed by a shot of panic coursing through my blood. Alarm bells are ringing loudly in my ears.

"Please, Leigh." As if Marcus hears them, his head whips up. "I can't have another person killed. Because of me."

"What about me? If you go over there, I'll be the one hurting, Marcus."

Tears prickle in my eyes, and I blink them away. I hate that he opened the dam to my tears. Hate how easy it is to cry instead of sitting up straight and demanding he stay.

"I'll die if something happens to you." I cling to his shirt. "I finally have you, and I can't afford to lose you. I won't."

"I'll be fine, Leighton. That's a promise." He grabs both my hands, squeezes them, and rubs his thumbs over my pulse points. "Rylan won't kill me. She'll kill Milo before she'll hurt me. I'm safe. Dr. Hatchett, on the other hand, might be in danger. Do you understand?"

"I hate…" Milo, Dr. Hatchett. Rylan. All of them. Even Marcus for making me love him so much that I don't care if someone dies in his place. "This situation. This isn't fair. Please don't go. Please."

"Leigh, I have to."

I could let more tears fall. Could turn on the waterworks and guilt him into staying. Here. Safe. With me.

I do something better instead.

Dropping to my knees, I don't hesitate when I push on Marcus's chest. I catch him off guard, and his back hits the back of the chair. His eyes are feral as he watches me lowering his fly, his cock throbbing in his briefs .

He's hard when I take him out, a salty drop of precum dampening the blunt head. I'm aching for him, willing to do anything that'd make him stay. Burning to have him in my mouth.

Where he belongs.

I run my tongue up his length, flicking in on the underside of the crown. Swirling it on the crown, flattening my tongue on his arousal. The salty taste makes me groan, and that makes him groan in return.

"Fucking tease." Marcus has his hand in my hair, holding me in place.

He slaps my mouth with his dick. Like the possessed man he is, he forgets about everything else. He drags my head to where he wants me. Lips over the pulsing tip, ready to impale my mouth with his cock.

My lips part for him. My eyes round, breaths shallow.

Exactly the way he loves me.

His doll.

"Fuck, Leigh." His grip tightens on my hair. "My filthy little whore. Take my cock, baby."

Marcus pushes my head down, and I grip his thighs, choking. Deliriously happy because it's his hand on me. It's him forcing me.

I have him. He's here to stay.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

"Leighton, I have to get that."

This isn't Hazel trying to reach him. Neither of us has to see the name on the screen to know who's calling Marcus on his burner .

I suck him harder than I have before, gagging on him. Drooling on him.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

The stupid phone doesn't stop vibrating on Marcus's desk.

"Baby." His strong hand on my cheek draws my attention from his dick to his face.

My watery eyes beg him to stay. His determination tells me we have our whole future ahead of us.

What if we don't?

"I have to—" He groans when I shove him deeper down my throat and choke. Slobber running down my chin. My coughs are louder than the buzzing phone. "Jesus."

I wish I could care about other people too. I don't. He's the only man for me, and I'll defend what we have until the day I die.

If it means I'll have to stay here, sucking him and having his cum for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, that's exactly what I'll do.

"After that—Oh, fuck ." His thighs flex at the touch of my hand on his balls. "I'll put my cock inside your mouth, your pussy, your ass. You'll wake up with my cum on your eyelids, inside your fucking nose, pretty girl. I won't ever stop until your face is painted in white and each one of your holes is dripping." With his hands on either side of my face, he pulls my head up. "Right now, though, I have to answer. So you're going to be a good girl and let me take that call."

His order does things to me, the same as it always does. He doesn't use hypnosis to make me, but he might just as well. Refusing him isn't an option .

"Stay." I sigh as he picks me off the floor and into a hug. "Please. Don't leave. No one's worth something happening to you. No one."

We look into each other's eyes. He reads the underlying meaning of what I said.

That means Rylan too.

Marcus doesn't use words to answer me. His hand slides to the back of my neck, hauling me to him for a kiss that has me weak at the knees.

"You trust me." He's stating a fact, not a question. I nod, regardless. "I'll never betray that trust. I'm yours and you're mine. Forever."

My chin wobbles with the effort to hold back my sobs.

"Such a good girl." Marcus helps me to the couch, then tucks himself in. He pats my hair, his love for me rolling off him in waves. "Let's see what she wants. Maybe she just used a family emergency as an excuse to elope to a fuck-fest. I could be paranoid."

He found two dead bodies in his garden. We aren't na?ve enough to think it's the truth.

Still, while I think that's a damn good reason to be paranoid, I don't say it. The more pressure he feels, the more likely he'll drive off to face Rylan.

I'm. Not. Ready.

"Dr. Hatchett?" Marcus says, putting her on speaker. He beckons me to come closer, pointing at the floor next to his chair. Kneel , he mouths.

A small, hopeful smile tugs at my lips. She must've sounded okay. He's staying .

She answers him, proving me right. "Hi, Marcus. My secretary forwarded me a message from you. Is everything okay?"

I climb off the couch, crawling to him.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." He refers to himself. Doesn't mention me.

Rylan might be listening.

Marcus fires up his laptop, tapping on a few keys. Videos of various areas of his home in Santa Barbara pop up on the screen. I was right. He suspects Ry has taken his therapist hostage.

From my place on the floor, I see both her and Milo on the couch in the living room, watching television. The sight eases the tension in his jaw.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" his psychiatrist offers, her voice professional. A woman who's been held captive can't possibly keep her tone level like this.

I've been there. When panic clutches at your throat and you feel threatened, you do not sound so peaceful.

"No." There's nothing sexual about the way he positions my cheek on his thigh. My pussy clenches just the same. "Your secretary mentioned a family emergency?"

The fact that Rylan's home doesn't make Marcus any less cautious. He speaks in code. Testing his psychiatrist. I gaze up at him, holding my breath. I told myself I didn't care, but now that I hear her, I do.

I still don't want Marcus to leave. I also wish really fucking hard that she's okay .

"Nothing to worry about." Dr. Hatchett clears her throat. "I'm struggling with the concept of vacation. Saying family emergency lessens the guilt somehow."

Marcus scratches his scruff, considering her explanation. His other hand clenches and unclenches into a fist in my hair. It soothes him. Me too. The pain brings a strange sense of comfort to my heart.

"I see," he says eventually. "It wasn't easy for me to take some time off, either."

"Of course." She pauses. "When can I expect you to return?"

I twist my head to look at him, mouthing the word, Never .

He shakes his head at me. "Soon."

"Do you have everything you need there? Please, don't hesitate to ask anything."

His eyebrows dip down, his mouth twisting in a scowl. "What could I possibly need?"

"I was only making a suggestion." Dr. Hatchett is quick to correct herself. "No need to get defensive."

"Listen, it's been nice catching up." Marcus ignores her, his voice cold. "I have to go."

He ends the call before she can answer.

"Marcus?"

"She's fine," he growls.

Then he throws me over his shoulder like a ragdoll. We're both quiet, the conversation seeming lightyears away as he carries me to the bedroom. Without a word, he honors his promise, taking his time as he gives me his cock in every hole for hours .

Whatever happens, I trust him. I have to. Otherwise, I'll be numbed by fear. Completely paralyzed.

And I won't let fear freeze me in place.

The only person I'm getting dollified for is Marcus.

Fear can go fuck itself.