Page 93 of Wicked Ends
Marcus studied me and then tilted his masked head to the side. “Why’s that?”
I swallowed the truth, which would serve no one and would only make me sound like a victim, and shrugged. “I don’t like the sight of blood, never have.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You’re lying to me, birthday girl. There’s a reason, but you don’t want to tell me. That hurts my feelings, but don’t worry, there’s a way you can make it up to me.”
“There is?” I wondered.
He nodded, the white circle of his mask taunting me.
“There is. Instead of kissing my hand better, you can kiss somewhere else… if you’re game. Staying away from you is torture. Ease my fucking suffering if you’re sorry.”
He stepped back and glanced down. Heat hit me hard, right in the belly, burning hot and languid. I glanced down and took in his dick, already hard and thick in his jeans.
“You want me to kiss your dick?” I asked, my cheeks growing hot.
Fucking hell, I wasn’t a blushing virgin, but Marcus made me feel like one. His confidence was unmatched, in and out of the bedroom. He could make me squirm with one knowing look.
He cocked his masked head. “I want you to get down on your knees for me and make up for lying to me right now by choking down as much of my cock as you can, then drink up my cum like you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.”
He moved beside me to lean his hips against the pool table, leaving me free to stand before him. I licked my lips, my mouth going dry at the thought of taking all of him. He was huge. I’d never manage more than half, but, for some reason, I wanted to try.
Wanted to make him beg and pant, like he did me. I wanted him to be desperate for my touch, needy and powerless, like I always was around him.
“Hold on then,” I said, my voice throaty and low.
I reached out and unbuckled his belt. He went very still. I undid his button and fly and tugged his pants down, then reached into his boxers. I partially closed my hand around his raging hard-on and pulled him free of his clothes.
“I’m going to drink you dry,” I said, immediately embarrassed at my first attempt at dirty talk.
But it faded when Marcus groaned and cupped my face with one hand and pushed his mask back with the other.
“No cheating, baby… No trying to make me come in your fucking hand with just words, it’s not allowed. I want to fill your belly with my cum and live inside you—like you’ve taken up residence inside me,” he murmured, his hand tight on my chin, tilting my head back so I was staring right up into his eyes.
Finally seeing his face was like a homecoming of some kind. A feeling of safety, of belonging, that I’d never felt anywhere. I’d heard people say before that home could be a person, not a place, but I’d always thought that sentiment was reserved for emotionally stable, fully functioning humans who didn’t try to hide from every other living creature on the planet; who didn’t try to be invisible in every room they were in. Not me. Never me.
Until him.
He kissed me hard, until I was panting. I pushed away and tightened my grip on his leaking cock.
“Hey, I’m running the show this time, remember?” I said in a breathy whisper.
A twitch of a grin hit his lips.
“So, be good, Mr. Bailey, or I’ll be seeing you in detention all week,” I continued and leaned into the wicked way he smiled when I reprimanded him.
“Looking forward to it, Professor,” he groaned. “Holy shit, you have no idea how hot you are, beautiful.”
I hummed low in my throat and pumped his cock a few times, and then sank slowly to my knees, gazing up at him.
He stared down at me, his attention riveted to my face.
“Put the mask on… I like it,” I admitted quietly.
Fuck, that was embarrassing, wasn’t it? It had just slipped out, unbidden. First, I was breaking school rules by sleeping with one of my students, and now, I was revealing my darkest fantasies, ones I’d never even had before meeting Marcus. But then he smirked, and my embarrassment dissipated like smoke at his obvious approval.
“Yes, Professor. Whatever you say,” he said, wicked delight in his eyes at my request.
Marcus Bailey liked to play games, and fuck, if it wasn’t fun to be the one he wanted to play with.
