Losing Control in All the Right Ways

His lips crashed into mine, and I felt it—the raw hunger, the barely controlled desperation.

Marcus lifted me effortlessly from the counter, his grip firm but careful, carrying me with ease as if I weighed nothing. And then—we were moving.

Through the kitchen. Down the hallway. Into his bedroom.

He set me down on the edge of his bed, standing between my legs, his hands resting firmly on my thighs. His eyes burned into mine.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, voice deep, husky, dangerously restrained.

I swallowed, my pulse pounding in my ears. "Yes."

Because there was no one else. There had never been anyone else.

Marcus didn’t rush. His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my skirt up inch by inch, his fingers trailing along my skin, sending shivers through me.

"You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this," he muttered, his breath hot against my lips.

I swallowed hard, feeling my body respond to his touch, his words. His mouth met mine again, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against mine, coaxing, teasing, claiming.

I moaned softly into his mouth, gripping his shoulders. He chuckled, pulling back just enough to brush his lips along my jaw.

"Already making those pretty little sounds for me?" His voice was pure sin, dark and filled with heat.

I bit my lip, my cheeks burning.

"Don't be shy, baby," he murmured, trailing kisses down my throat, sucking lightly just below my ear. "I want to hear everything."

His hands skimmed over my waist, then up, reaching for the hem of my shirt.

"Lift your arms," he ordered, his tone deep, firm. I obeyed without thinking.

He pulled the fabric along with the bra over my head, tossing it somewhere behind him. His eyes darkened as they roamed over me—my bare skin, the soft curves of my body.

"Fuck," he breathed. I squirmed slightly under his gaze, suddenly feeling so exposed.

Marcus noticed. His fingers tilted my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his.

"Don’t hide from me," he said, voice low, possessive. "I want to see every inch of you."

Then—his lips trailed lower. Down the valley between my breasts.

"You’re so fucking perfect," he murmured against my skin. "I don’t know why would ever doubt it."

I shivered at his words, at the sheer reverence in his voice. Then his hands slid lower—hooking into the waistband of my underwear. He paused, looking up.

"Last chance to stop me." I shook my head. "Good girl."

And then—he slid them down. Marcus pressed my thighs apart, his breath hot and teasing against my inner thighs.

"You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this," he groaned, his fingers tracing along the sensitive flesh.

"Marcus—" I gasped as his mouth followed, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the insides of my thighs.

"So soft," he murmured, biting lightly. "So god damn amazing."

My head fell back against the pillows, my fingers gripping the sheets. "Please," I whimpered.

"Please, what?" His voice was smug, teasing.

"Marcus…" I whined, desperate, my body trembling.

He smirked. "I love hearing you beg, baby." Then—he finally tasted me.

I cried out, my back arching, my legs trying to squeeze around him, but his hands held me wide open.

"You’re so fucking wet for me," he groaned, his tongue moving in slow, torturous strokes. I moaned, gripping his hair, feeling myself lose control completely.

He flicked his tongue against my most sensitive spot, sucking lightly, and my entire body shuddered.

"That’s it, baby," he murmured, his voice husky, possessive. "Let me hear you."

My breathing was erratic, my hips moving involuntarily against his mouth.

"Marcus— Oh my God—"

He chuckled against me, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through my body.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he groaned, his grip on my thighs tightening. "I could stay down here all night."

And he didn’t stop. Not until I was a shaking, gasping mess beneath him. Not until I was crying out his name, my entire body pulsing with release.

Marcus moved up my body, his mouth trailing hot, open kisses along my stomach, my chest, my throat.

When he reached my lips, he kissed me deeply—and I tasted myself on his tongue.

"You ready for me, baby?" he murmured, his voice hoarse with need.

I nodded, my body still trembling.

He lined himself up, his gaze locking onto mine.

"This might hurt a little," he whispered. "But I promise I’ll make it good for you."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding.

Then—he pushed inside. A sharp stretch, a slight burn, my body adjusting to him. Marcus groaned, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

"Fuck, you’re so tight," he growled, his voice strained. He didn’t move—not yet. He waited.

Waited until I relaxed. Until the pain faded. Until I nodded. Then—he moved.

Slow. Deep. Dragging pleasure through every inch of me.

"That’s it, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. "You’re taking me so fucking well."

I moaned, wrapping my legs around him, pulling him closer, deeper. Marcus hovered over me, his gaze dark and predatory, his body tense with restraint.

His cock was buried inside me, stretching me, filling me completely. It was too much, yet not enough.

His forehead pressed against mine, his breathing heavy, uneven, like he was holding himself back from absolutely wrecking me.

"You okay?" he rasped, his fingers digging into my hips, his voice so husky it sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

I swallowed hard, adjusting to the pressure, the aching fullness of him inside me. It was foreign. Overwhelming. So, so good.

"Y-Yeah," I whispered breathlessly, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist, bringing him even deeper.

Marcus let out a deep, guttural groan, his head falling into the crook of my neck.

"Fuck, baby," he panted, his fingers twitching against my skin. "You’re so fucking tight. I can barely move."

He pulled back just an inch, teasing me with a slow, shallow thrust, making me whimper at the pressure.

Marcus smirked against my skin.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" His voice was silk and sin, thick with arrogance and lust.