Page 19 of A Sinner's Virtue
“This isn’t your fault, Zoe. I walked into a club I had no business being in,” he says.
“You were looking for me. That kinda feels like it’s my fault.”
“Trust me, it was no one’s fault but my own. I’m curious, though. Why were you in a Bratva strip club?” he asks. “I know you’re not a stripper, so why else would you be there?”
“What makes you so sure I’m not a stripper?” I mean, I’m not. But how is he so certain I’m not moonlighting as one?
“Because my dick has never gotten hard for a stripper, and I’ve seen a lot of 'em. But you, Zoe, you make my dick harder than it’s ever been before.” He doesn’t break eye contact as he tells me this. “That’s how I know.”
“Sooo, you’re going off the hardness of your dick? Seems like a reasonable thing to do,” I counter, allowing the sarcasm to drip from my words.
“It’s never let me down before.” Marcel shrugs.
“Right, well, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. I just really needed to tell you that I didn’t know.” I push up from the bench.
Marcel stands with me. “What are you doing right now?”
“I need to get back to the office.”
“I know your boss. She’ll be fine if you take some time off. Come with me.” Marcel reaches for my hand and starts leading me back towards the building.
“Wait! Where are we going?” I ask, struggling to keep up with his long strides.
Turning his head, he looks at me and slows his pace a bit. “I already told you. When I see you, my dick gets hard.”
My entire body heats up. He can’t be serious right now. We’re in the middle of a college campus. I don’t say a single word, though, as I follow him into the building. And I don’t protest a single bit when he opens a door and pulls me through it before closing it behind us.
It’s not until my back is pressed up against that door, Marcel’s hands cupping my face and his lips descending onto mine that I finally speak up.
“Wait.” I rest a palm on his chest.
Marcel’s hands drop and he takes two steps backwards. His eyes flicker across my face. I know what he’s looking for. He’s wondering if I’m freaking out again. I’m not. The fact that he instantly stepped back doesn’t escape me, though.
“You can’t seriously want to do this here?”
“Why not?” he asks.
“There are millions of people around, Marcel. What if someone walks in?”
“Millions is an overstatement, babe. And no one is walking in. We can lock the door if it makes you feel better?”
“What if they hear?” I whisper.
“Let 'em.” He shrugs. “I want the fucking world to hear you scream my name when I make you come.” His eyes travel up and down my body. “You want me to do that, don’t you? You want my cock pressing into that tight little cunt of yours? You want to wrap your legs around my waist as I fuck you up against this door?”
I do want that. Damn it. Am I that transparent? I cast my gaze to the floor. Until Marcel’s voice has me looking back up.
“Zoe. Take off your panties.”
My eyes widen and I look around. My hands have a mind of their own, though, and they start lifting my skirt. Then I reach underneath and pull my panties down my legs, kicking them off from around my ankles.
Marcel bends down and picks them up, before tucking them in the back pocket of his jeans. “Tell me you want this, Zoe. I need to hear the words.”
“I want this.”
“What exactly do you want?” He takes one step towards me.
“I want you to fuck me,” I tell him and can feel my cheeks heating up.
