Page 19 of A Father's Bliss

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. The visual of Marcus Debois between my thighs has, up until this moment, only been a fantasy. A wish on a shooting star. The rub of a genie's lamp. To hear him say it now and feel his soft lips peppering kissing to the center of my chest has me vibrating with need.

Arching my back as he reaches the top of my cami, I push out a soft breath. “Who knew you’d be such a tease?”

He huffs, his hands moving from the island to slowly slide under my skirt. “You have no idea, Miss Porter.”

I stick out a playful tongue. “I was just ‘baby girl’ a minute ago. Now I’m Miss Porter? I don’t think that’s a step in the right direction.”

He shakes his head, before gliding one of his hands from my skirt toward my breast. He traces the neckline with featherlight pressure, smirking when my skin pebbles. “Are you this responsive everywhere?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Marcus scoffs, hooking a finger under the strap of my cami and slowly drawing it off my shoulder. “That mouth of yours.”

“Oh, but a moment ago you were just saying how much you enjoyed it.” I apply the best smuggest smile possible.

“I do.” He returns his hand to my thighs, lifting my skirt up to expose my lace underwear. “And I can’t wait to hear the sounds it makes when my tongue is on your cunt.”

My jaw slackens, a fresh dose of arousal whisking through my core.

As long as I’ve worked with Marcus, he’s been a reserved man, only speaking when he needed to or was asked a direct question. So each time he slips out a dirty phrase, it ignites my libido like the first touch of a fully charged vibrator.

“Hate to tell you this,” I say, my voice growing quieter as I watch him slip his fingers under the straps of my lace. “But I’m not much of a talker in bed.”

“Is that so?” He taps my hips and juts his chin. “Lift.”

Bracing my hands on the counter, I hoist myself up the inch needed so he can slip the fabric down my legs. The cool air immediately chills my flesh and I shiver. “Yes, that’s so.”

His lips form a hard line as he pockets my underwear before straightening to his full height. “I don’t anticipate you’ll be able to say much.”

“Cocky.” My brows furrow. “So was your son, but he never even got me off.”

I regret the words as soon as I say them, but it’s too late to suck them back in. Marcus’s face smooths, his expression unreadable. The only indicator that he even heard me is the tick in his jaw and the tight fists that form on my thighs.

Why the fuck would I bring Harrison up when his dad is two seconds away from eating me out?

“Sor—”

Before I can finish my sentence, Marcus’s strong hand is pressed to the base of my throat, pushing me back enough that I have to prop myself on my elbows. I suck in a breath as he towers over me, his other hand skirting up my thigh.

“I,” he starts, running the tip of his nose up my jaw “am not my son.”

He stops at the shell of my ear and then nips at the flesh. I jerk against him, a small whimper slipping free. I should tell him how very different he is from his son, or maybe apologize for the earlier comment, but I don’t. Why? Well, because for somereason, having experienced this whole other side of Marcus, has me incredibly curious about the rest. I want to know if there’s any merit behind that devious smirk he has. The one where his dimple is deep and his eyes grow dark.

I want to know if there’s a darker side of him. A rougher side.

Blame it on that stalker romance with the fish pole.

“I mean, you talk a big game like him. Who’s to say you won’t fuck like him?”

A nerve in Marcus’s neck pulses, but impressively, his face remains impassive. After another beat of silence, though, he gives me that smirk I love so much and straightens, shifting in between my legs.

He places his hands on each of my knees and pushes them apart. I don’t even get time to process that I’m on top of this man’s kitchen island, fully exposed and at his mercy before he drops down.

His breath is hot against my entrance. “Your safe word is Red, baby girl. Don’t fucking forget it.”

My mouth pops open, a response at the ready, but then the flat of his tongue glides up my pussy, effectively shutting me up.

The muscles in my thighs immediately try to clench together against the overwhelming sensations, but he tightens his grip on my knees and repeats the act, this time with more force.

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