Chapter 17 Cass

Even on this cool night, my neck was somehow heating under the thin material of my chiffon blouse. I slid off my stool and scooted it back towards the table, as Marcus did the same. Briefly, we stared at each other. His eyes were bright under the canopy of patio lights that illuminated the small crowd as night set in. The expression on his face was certain and focused—the same that he wore when he was fixated on his work. I had grown to appreciate that expression over the past few weeks, as the gravity of his responsibilities had come to light. But tonight, I was the singular object of his focus. The thought radiated through me, inciting tingles of anticipation.

We headed towards the front of the restaurant, his hand resting on the small of my back as he gently guided me. He probably had no idea the impact the small contact had on me. My body lit up, starting from the base of my spine and wandering up into my arms. Goosebumps began to prickle my skin. I pursed my lips, pressing them together over my teeth to keep from smiling. I loved this part: the minutes that passed when two people knew they were about to touch. Time became electric—pulsing and animated.

We didn't exchange a word as we waited for the elevator. We stood in silence, side by side. I kept my eyes on the floor, staring at the stretch of his shadow next to mine. He shifted, moving an inch closer to me. His hand drifted off my back and went to his side, where it hanged comfortably between us.

After a few seconds, I felt the soft graze of his fingertips against the back of my hand. My breath hitched at once. I didn't dare look over at him. I was worried that if I did, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him. Instead, I extended my hand, inviting his touch. When his hand circled mine, I couldn't help but exhale indulgently. As he heard me breathe out, he looked over at me.

"Do you want to take the stairs?" he asked. His voice was low and heavy, laden with desire. I recognized it from Friday night—from those filthy things he rattled off in my ear without pause. My stomach contracted sharply, forcing me to inhale. The sensation rushed through me, elevating into my shoulders like the anticipation was struggling to find an escape from my body.

Finally, I looked back at him and found his gaze ravenous. His green eyes flickered over my lips and traveled up to meet my eyes. He blinked once, just before he ticked his eyebrows upwards. The gesture was slight, almost undetectable, but his intentions had been laid bare.

He didn't want to wait—and he wanted to know if I felt the same way.

"It's twelve flights," I reminded him.

"Good."

I paused, reciting the stakes in my head: the deal, his contract, my job—and now the risk of getting caught in the stairwell. I was on the verge of saying no when he took a small step towards me. His face moved in and our noses grazed together. Marcus tilted his head and brought his lips to mine, dragging them softly over my waiting mouth. It was barely a kiss; the contact was nearly ephemeral. But it was like striking a match—and I was immediately left wanting more.

I nodded, staring up into his eyes. He looked down at me and a gentle smile of confirmation crossed his face.

Expectation flipped over in my stomach as Marcus turned towards the door to the stairwell. It was a few feet away from the elevator, but the distance seemed vast. We really couldn't get there fast enough. He pulled me along with him, his hand firm around mine. When we reached the heavy door, he pushed it open and held it so I could enter before him. As soon as the door closed, the sound of the top forty music playing outside became muffled. We were alone, standing in the sterile white stairwell and staring at each other.

The space was industrial and cold, but somehow safe. The walls looked impenetrable, with glossy white painted over hefty bricks that shone under panel lights. Marcus nodded his head to the side, motioning for me to follow him. We walked down one flight of stairs layered with rubber tread, absorbing the sounds of our footsteps. We hurried, nearly jogging down them until we turned at the landing and continued down another set so we were on the eleventh floor. He slowed there, leading me past the door and towards the plain white wall lining the landing. As soon as we were close to it, he pressed me against the wall, flattening my back. I dropped my tote and the sound echoed in the empty stairwell.

Marcus leaned forward and let his body relax against mine. His scent consumed me every time he did this—that mix of fresh cologne and citrusy shampoo. I inhaled, indulging in it. I let it recall memories of the other times he had caged me with his body like this. The nightclub. His office. On both of those occasions, he had me beside myself with lust. Tonight would be no exception; I could already tell.

He kept one hand on my waist and the other hovered over my shoulder. He pressed it against the wall, flexing his fingers once in an act of restraint. His gaze met mine. Those striking green eyes of his traveled from my own eyes, down to my mouth, and back up again.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he commented. His voice was rough as he whispered to me. A grin formed at the corner of his mouth. "What the fuck are you doing to me?"

He really had no clue just how much I wanted to do to him. I would never tell him. Instead, I weaved my hands up and placed them on his shoulders. His skin was warm through his white button-down shirt, and I lamented how little of his body I'd had a chance to see. I had imagined it countless times. I imagined smooth skin and firm muscles that had teased me, hidden under his clothes. I knew tonight wouldn't be the night though. No, I could tell by the way he was feasting his gaze on me, ravenously, that tonight was going to be fast and efficient. I didn't want it any other way.

Marcus lowered his face to my neck and nuzzled it with his nose. He homed right in on the spot that always made me shiver, like he had a radar for it. I closed my eyes, parting my lips as I exhaled.

"I would tell you that you're so fucking gorgeous I can't think straight, but I know you don't like it when I compliment you," he murmured. He slowly drew his face away from my neck and ran the edge of his chin along mine. "So what should I say about you tonight, Cass?"

I brought my lips up to kiss his. He responded tenderly, languidly. His tongue probed gently between my lips, leaving me wanting so much more.

"Should I tell you how hard it makes me when I think about how easy you are?" he asked—the depravity of his words contrasting with his soothing tone. "Should I tell you how much it turns me on to think about you fucking desperately—whoever, wherever, and whenever you please? Like a little slut, Cass?"

Any other time, I would have him by the balls for speaking to me that way. But I found myself nodding at his words as I pulled him closer, working desperately to deepen our kiss.

He placated me for a moment, sucking deliciously on my tongue in a way that made my nipples bead under my blouse. But seconds later, he broke the kiss. "Well, now we're getting somewhere," he declared, contentment detectible in every syllable he uttered. "My girl doesn't like it when I'm sweet to her."

"We both know you're not really sweet," I responded, gasping suddenly as his hand moved from the wall to my neck. He wrapped his hand around it, his thumb on one side and his fingers spanning the other side. He tightened his grip, not so hard that I couldn't breathe, but hard enough for me to understand his point: He was possessive; I was his.

Marcus moved in to kiss me again, his hand still fixed on my neck. The touch was searing. My body was on fire, burning for him to grab more of me. My flesh yearned for him. I removed my hands from his shoulders and brought them to my blouse, where I began to undo the buttons. I started at the top one, unhooking it from the delicate chiffon of this atrocious blouse I bought at a consignment store three years ago. I detested this blouse—and wanted nothing more than to take it off.

Seeing this, Marcus smiled darkly. "You're that desperate for me, Cass? You're going to take off your clothes, right here in this stairwell?"

I nodded, unable to come up with words. My fingers kept working, finishing the second button, and moving on to the third.

"Fuck yes," he murmured, his eyes fixated on my motions. He groaned slowly, never once breaking his gaze. Against me, I could feel his hardness growing. It pressed on my hipbone, previewing what was to come.

I finished with the buttons and tugged my blouse out from my tight skirt. My bra was showing now, leaving my breasts visible. Marcus's eyes went there and stayed there. For a moment, I watched as his gaze perused them. He glanced up at my face once, but quickly fixed his attention back on my luscious breasts.

"Be honest," he said, wetting his lips with his tongue. "You know you have the most incredible pair of breasts I've ever seen, right?" As he spoke, his free hand came up to my right side. He wrapped his hand around it, cupping as much of it as he could. He squeezed and his fingertips pressed into my generous flesh, drawing a soft groan from me.

Marcus looked down at my face, watching as I pulled back my lip to bite it. My chest heaved with unsteady breaths, my thirst for him now coursing through my body. "You're just so stacked, Cass," he murmured. "And these piercings?" He moved in and kissed me hard , with one hand gripping my breast and the other still holding my neck. "I'm wild for them. Obsessed."

"Do whatever you want with them," I managed to say. "Play with them. Suck them. Bite them. Anything you want. They're yours, Marcus."

I had never seen a man's face light up in a way that was so sexy yet so adorable at the same time. A dangerous smile crossed his lips and he let out a near-delirious chuckle—almost like he wasn't sure if he heard me correctly. I nodded, assuring him I meant it—that I was his for the taking.

As Marcus bent down, he released my neck, leaving my skin feeling bare without his touch. I let out a soft, disappointed hum, which made him pause with both hands now holding onto my breasts.

"You don't like it when I let go of your neck?" he asked. His lips came back to mine and pressed a firm kiss against my mouth.

"No," I admitted, heart pounding at the thought. "It felt so good."

"So filthy. I'll do it again," he promised. Another kiss. "I'll do it every day. Whenever you want. I'll treat you like the filthy girl you are, Cass. But for now, I have to suck these tits." He didn't hesitate to deliver. In a matter of seconds, he had tugged down both of my bra cups and had fixed his lips around my left nipple. His soft tongue coated my hard peak in warmth, and pleasure immediately burst from the spot. My piercing knocked against his teeth as he sucked on it roughly, bordering on painful—just the way I liked.

His left hand remained on my right side, pinching my nipple between his index finger and his thumb. My breath stalled as he released my peak from his fingers and pressed his palm against my breast. He hefted it, caressing gently before his grip tightened around the lush flesh of my curves.

Marcus released my left nipple from his lips and leaned back, taking a moment to admire them both. I looked down at my breasts, which were so attentive they almost looked vulgar. They were swollen from his touch, the left side wet and glistening from his lips and the right side pink and engorged from his fingers.

He straightened his spine and wrapped his right arm around my lower back. The move pulled my back away from the wall and brought the left side of my body flush against his. His hand moved upwards, stilling against my ribcage and just below my right breast. We stood in an intimate side hug, with my breasts spilling lewdly and bare over the tops of my bra cups.

His left hand came up to my face and he traced a path with his index finger. My body quaked in response. He started with the spot right below my earlobe, ran it along the line of my jaw, and paused at my chin. He crooked my face up by nudging the bottom of my chin gently, and his lips lowered to mine.

We kissed again, deep and exploratory. Nobody kissed better than Marcus—end of story. As we breathed each other in, his left hand departed from my chin and lowered to my neck. I felt his hand wrap around it once more and excitement darted right to my core. Heat consumed me, wetting my pussy in anticipation. But to my disappointment, he didn't linger there. He continued on this agonizingly decadent tour of my body and moved his hand over my collarbone.

"Fuck you," I murmured, my voice shaking as I spoke. I was tremoring with want, certain I would combust if he didn't shove into me soon. I wanted him to take control of me—to experience me fully. I was so needy for him, so desperate for him to fill me up. I wanted his cock. His hands. His cum. I wanted it all.

Marcus grinned against my lips. "You're not in charge, Cass," he informed me, glee in his voice.

"Jerk," I said, even though his response was exactly what I wanted to hear.

His hand reached my breast again and he began to roll my nipple in his fingers. His touch felt practiced, and an inexplicable feeling of jealousy washed over me— Whose nipples has he been practicing on? But I couldn't dwell on that thought for long. He broke away from our kiss and bowed down to bring my nipple into his mouth. It tightened under his lips, beading against the warm wetness of his tongue.

"So good," I whispered.

"You pierced them for me," he murmured, his lips still wrapped around the puckered bud. "I know you probably thought it was to pleasure yourself, but no." He gave me a soft nibble. "You were waiting for me, Cass. Deep down, you knew that one day I was going to make them feel so fucking good—so much better than anyone ever has."

I gasped as he released my breast, holding back all temptation to tell him, YES —to tell him that when I got them pierced, I was imagining some freakishly skilled guy would take them in his mouth and make me mindless. I hated that he was right—I hated that he was so much better with them than any guy had ever been—by an absurd degree.

Marcus rose and fixed his mouth back on mine. His lips were hot and wet and I had to marvel at his self-control. I had lost all of mine, but he was still composed and collected. Marcus fucking Fitz. The COO of my body.

"Make me yours," I found myself saying as we kissed. "Take everything from me. Own me."

My words ignited him. We were kissing frantically now; the slow tour of Cass was officially over. His left hand latched onto the hem of my skirt and he shoved it upwards, exposing my thighs. I helped him, peeling up my tight skirt until it sat around my waist. We had been here before—we were pros at it now.

Finally, his hand dipped down into my pussy, exploring the soft folds. "Mm," he hummed out. I knew what that sound meant; I was drenched. He would face absolutely no resistance shoving his cock into me—and the anticipation was more than I could handle.

"Am I wet?"

"You know the answer to that," he gritted.

He brought his hand up to my lips and pressed his fingers into my mouth. I inhaled sharply before I began to suck on his fingers. I savored them, just like I planned to do with his cock one day. Marcus's eyes were hooded as he watched me, and a smile formed. It was like everything I did fascinated and enchanted him—and fuck, I loved that about him.

"You're ready," he told me, before he planted a kiss right on my temple. The kiss was affectionate—borderline proud. I nodded, pulsating with lust. Together, we moved over to the stairs, where he took a seat right there on the steps. When he was in place, he beckoned me towards him by holding out his hand and crooking back his index and middle fingers—the same fingers that were still wet from my mouth.

I climbed over his lap, making my skirt rise even higher. As I got into place, Marcus leaned back with his elbows on the steps. He was content to watch me, his face handsome and expectant as I straddled him half-naked. He was fully clothed, looking sharp as usual in his button-down and navy slacks. He was a stark contrast to me—hastily exposed with my flesh pink and flushed from foreplay.

"Are you ready?" I asked when I finally spread over his lap.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Cass, I'm always ready for you," he said as he leaned forward and kissed me.

He took my hand and guided it down to the front of his slacks, where I could feel his hard member straining against the fabric. He placed my hand there and released it—a tacit instruction: Your turn. I couldn't get started fast enough. I undid his belt with swift, deliberate motions, excitement radiating through me like I was opening a present on Christmas morning. I had been dying to see this cock—nearly obsessed with it for days.

I lowered his zipper and pulled apart the sides of his pants, revealing the shape of his erection through his navy boxer briefs. Momentarily, I took note of the fact that he matched his boxer briefs to his slacks, which might have been the sweetest thing I had ever seen. But then I was quickly back to unwrapping my present. No hesitation, I pulled down the waistband and reached in to take out his penis.

When I touched his bare cock, I looked up at Marcus to see his reaction. His eyebrows were tight with restraint and his lower lip was tucked under his teeth as he watched me. To my left, I noticed his right hand was gripping one of the vertical slats in the stair railing, holding it so tightly that the veins in his arm were enunciated. His eyes rose to meet mine and he nodded once. He remained uncharacteristically quiet—like he knew he absolutely didn't need to tell me what to do with his cock.

It was warm in my hand, hardening as I stroked him. I started my hand at the base and traveled his impressive length, bringing my hand up and over the smooth crown where I cupped him. A bead of precum wet my palm. I brought my hand up to my mouth and let my tongue flicker out to lap up his taste from my skin. His eyes widened and that hand tightened even harder on the railing.

"Marcus."

"Yeah, Cass?"

I smiled. "I'm so excited for this," I said—and I wasn't even sure why I was telling him. But I didn't regret it when he lunged forward, pulled me towards him, and kissed my lips. He showered the skin around my mouth with urgent kisses, tangling his hands in my long hair as he embraced me.

"Me too," he replied when he paused, panting. "I've wanted to fuck you like this since the first time I saw you."

"Ten years ago?"

"Absolutely. I wanted to fuck you until you belonged to me."

His words washed over me in the form of sweet pleasure. I kissed him. "Take it now," I whispered. "Let me give myself to you."

I didn't need to tell him twice. Marcus released me and shifted his hips, keeping one hand on my back to stabilize me. I held on to him, hands tight on his shoulders as he fished into his back pocket. When he settled back into his spot, he handed me a condom. I couldn't help but give him a look.

"What?" he questioned, eyeing me innocently.

"Did you plan this?"

"Of course. I plan everything," was his response.

For the rest of my life, forward-thinking would be at the top of my list of must-haves in a man.

"Typical," I murmured as I ripped open the foil package. I rolled the condom over his length, adjusting it so it covered him. When it was on, I gave his thick cock one last squeeze before I elevated myself over him.

Marcus hooked my thong with his finger and pulled it to the side. "How nice are these?" he asked, tugging gently on the wet fabric. The way he gritted out the words was telling.

"Don't," I warned, noting the mischievous look on his face. "You rip these, I kill you."

"I'll buy you new ones," he promised, his gaze burning as the idea took over. "I'll buy you a new one for every day of the year."

"Marcus, don't," I repeated as I settled myself over his crown. "I like these."

"Fine," he said, feigning disappointment and moving his hands up to my waist. "I'm still buying you more lingerie."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," I said. "You have no idea if I ever plan to fuck you again." The head of his cock pushed into me and I let out a gasp as I stretched around him. His hands ran over my bare skin, stroking my sides as he eased into me.

There it was. Marcus. Me. We were finally doing it—finally fucking each other. I rotated on his tip, groaning as he began to fill me. Each stroke was pure pressure, his size hitting me in all the right spots. I would do anything for him—anything for this man who made me feel like I was floating fifty feet above the earth.

"Fucking hell," he grunted, shutting his eyes tight. "You feel so good, Cass. So…so damn good." His hands tightened around my hipbones. He let out a breathy chuckle. "Don't kid yourself. You're definitely going to fuck me again."

He was right. He was always right. As I lowered slowly, enjoying the decadent sensation of his thick cock working into me, I knew there was no way I would have the resolve to stay away from this man and his absolutely mind-blowing cock again. When he thrusted upwards into me, I could tell he just knew how to wield it. There was an unspoken confidence in the way he worked into me. It was an ineffable competence almost—and I realized how much that competence turned me on.

Marcus's cock was all the way inside of me now, and I allowed myself a moment to adjust to his size. My hands tightened on his shoulders and I closed my eyes, rotating my hips just the tiniest amount. Patiently, he leaned forward and his lips touched my neck.

"I want to compliment you," he whispered. "I have so many— so many —praises I could shower on you right now." But he nipped my skin, drawing a gasp from me. Involuntarily, I contracted my muscles around his dick and I could feel him smile against my skin. "I know you don't want that though. And I'm very much in the business of giving you what you want—what you need, Cass."

He drew his hands to lift me by my waist, coaxing me to move on him. "Do you like being fucked in public?" he asked. "Do you like me using you here, where anyone could see you?"

"I love it," I uttered as his length hit my cervix, and sharp pain melted into delicious pressure.

"You want someone to walk in right now, don't you?" he continued, his hands tightening on my small waist. "That's what you're into. You want someone to use these stairs and to catch me shoving my cock in this sweet, wet pussy."

I was nodding and I couldn't stop. His dirty words sounded as good as his cock felt. I began to raise and lower myself on him, meeting his thrusts. We were grinding harder now, heat building between us as we gathered momentum.

"You couldn't even wait to get home," he continued, gritting out the words as he shoved more deliberately into me. "You needed it now. You needed a big dick in you because you want to be fucked like a slut, Cass."

"Yes," I managed to say, the word practically choking out. Marcus loved that; he wrapped his arm around me and dragged his lips lower to bring my nipple into his mouth. After a long, hard suck, he released it with a pop and said, "Do you let all your friends fuck you like this?"

"Just you," I responded. "Just you, Marcus."

My hands moved from his shoulders to grip his strong back. I was pulsating with pleasure now, losing my mind with it. I scratched him through his shirt, wishing I could feel his bare skin. I would leave nail marks on him—would add that to the hickeys and other traces I had left on his body. As much as I wanted him to take me, I wanted him to be mine. I didn't want to share him. I wanted him to be captivated by me and me alone.

"That's it," he murmured. "God, you know how to move." He lifted a hand from my waist and brought it up to my breast to clutch it. He gave it a squeeze, gripping my tingling flesh before he brought his hand up to my neck. It felt so good, I could thank him. But before I could speak, he ran his thumb along the side of the column of my neck and said, "You're so fucking bad, Cass. I can't get enough of it. Think of everything we could do together."

I did. I thought about all the ways he could make me come and how wrong it would be every single time. It left me breathless, wanting more. Needing more. I rolled my hips on him, ignoring the dull ache in my knees where they pressed into the hard stairs. The pain was nothing. It couldn't stop me, not when every other part of my body felt alive and rich with my oncoming orgasm.

"Yes," he hissed. He thrusted harder, feeding me relentlessly. "Come on, Cass. Come. Do it with me. Do it for me. Show me how good it feels when you have a big cock in you."

I was on the edge, chasing release. We were moving together, totally in sync. I moaned, maybe saying his name, or maybe just making incoherent sounds—I honestly couldn't tell. I threw my head back, stretching my neck in his grasp. My pussy flared, spasming around him. I began to ride him frantically, letting the pleasure build up in a cresting wave.

"Don't stop," he grunted. "Don't you fucking stop now, Cass. That's it. Soak my cock. Give me everything. Let go—"

Bliss . I came spectacularly around his cock, whimpering as he continued to thrust into me, spurred by my orgasm. I clutched his face close to my chest and his lips wrapped around a nipple. He didn't release it. Even when I was thrumming and moving from the force of my climax, his mouth stayed on me. I cried out, the sound echoing in the empty stairwell.

He groaned, his motions stilling briefly as his own orgasm hit. We were coming together, the wave of sweet release cascading over us both. His hands were tight on me, squeezing curves and sensitive skin with the comfortable possessiveness of a man who had touched me hundreds of times before.

When I finally stopped coming and the waves of my orgasm had petered into small flashes of pleasure, Marcus began to kiss me. He laid a scattering of kisses up from my breasts, along my collarbone, and over my neck until he reached my mouth. His hand came up and weaved into my hair, holding my head in place. He kissed my lips, languid and measured now that the sex—the incredible, mind-blowing sex—was out of the way.

"That was worth millions," he said, speaking against my mouth. His voice was scratchy now. "You're a fucking revelation."

I returned my hands to his shoulders, grounding myself in their stability. I worked to steady my lungs, keeping my eyes closed for several seconds. Calm washed over me; it was nice to be in his arms. I usually didn't linger after I came. I usually didn't stick around for the cuddling and the petting. But tonight, I didn't feel like moving. To my surprise, the thought of leaving his arms felt almost unbearable.

"Marcus," I said when I finally trusted my lungs to keep my breaths even. "I'm so sorry."

He frowned and leaned back to stare at me. His cheeks were flushed pink and his brown hair was askew. Seldom did Marcus ever look unpolished. I decided I liked him this way—and wouldn't mind seeing him like that more often. "What the hell for?"

"If I hadn't been such a jerk in college, we probably could have been screwing like that for the last ten years," I explained.

He let out a laugh and kept smiling. It was the first time I ever really saw him laugh. His face was brighter, almost boyish. "Maybe," he said. "Looks like you're going to have to make it up to me."

"Really?" I inquired, playing along. "I'm in your debt?"

Gamely, he nodded. "Oh yeah, big time. Massive debts owed to me. Hell, I'm probably going to have to ask the engineers to code sexual debts into Libra, so you can keep track of how much you owe me. It's going to take years—maybe more."

"You're so obnoxious," I chided, slapping him lightly on the arm.

Still smiling, Marcus leaned forward and kissed me. "But you like me," he responded after a moment. "And that's all I've wanted for ten years."

I brought my hand up to push his hair away from his forehead. "Same," I said, even though the admission felt weighty when it escaped my lips. With post-orgasm clarity, it dawned on me: to be with Marcus would be final. He would never just be a quick fuck or a passing phase. No, he was so much more than that.

At one point in my life, I thought I had committed to final. I flipped my world on its head for a guy I thought was final. That had burned into cinders. I didn't know if I could do that again.

I contended with both feelings for a moment: satisfaction and trepidation. In the end, I decided to enjoy the feeling of his hands on me. His eyes on me. The whispers in my ear. I memorized him, vowing to savor these memories more than all the others.

Trepidation could wait until tomorrow. This moment was for him.