Page 67 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“You ready for me, baby?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

“This”—I thrust into her—“belongs to me. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“Y-you,” she stutters as I thrust in again.

“That’s right.”

We pick up speed, each needing so much more.

She clenches down as she’s sent over the edge, and her orgasm pulls me right along with her.

I collapse on top of her, and she squeezes my ass almost as a tap out. I roll off her and toss my condom into the nearby wastebasket. Then I pull her to my chest.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” I speak to the top of her head. “We’re both searching for Daddy’s approval. At least you have a chance at winning yours. Mine’s been long gone.”

She rests her chin on my chest. “You are worthy of love.” Her words shake me. I know she believes them; I don’t know that I do.

“You’re an amazing storyteller, and you will make it in opera. I feel it in my bones.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Then she lays her head down, and we both drift off.

My alarm wakes us. It’s almost time to start gate duty. She’s sleeping so peacefully; I don’t want to wake her, but I’m sure as hell not leaving her naked in Crash’s bed.

So I reach across and rub my knuckles lightly down her cheek.

“Mmm.” She smiles.

“I’ve got gate duty tonight. Let me walk you to your truck before I start.”

***

I push Brandy against the truck and kiss her one last time, then open the door for her. She slips inside, and I lean in the open space. “Call and let me know you made it home.”

“I will.”

“Drive safe.”

She gives me a wink. “Get some sleep.”

After I watch Brandy’s taillights fade into the distance, I stretch and head to the clubhouse. As soon as I walk through the doors, I’m bombarded with hoots and hollers. Pats on the back overwhelm me as I push through the crowd. I can’t help but grin like an idiot.

“Hey, prospect,” Crash calls from across the room. “Change my sheets.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – MAKING AN IMPRESSION

Marcus—

I stand at the gate, leaning against the post. The crunching of gravel has me glancing back to see Crash making his way to me.

“All good out here? Anything out of order?”

“Not particularly,” I answer, straightening. Both our eyes follow the squad car that slowly drives by the gate. “That’s the third time they’ve driven by.”

“Lookin’ for an excuse to come bust up our party,” Crash muses.

“Noise complaint?”

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