Page 26 of Love by Design (Club Rapture: Risk Aware #1)

SILAS

I woke up on my stomach, the smell of coffee in my nose and the press of Marshall’s strong hands against the small of my back.

He was a heavy weight on top of me, nose dragging up the back of my neck, trailed by his mouth leaving a blistering trail of kisses along my hairline.

Beneath him I groaned, lifting myself off the bed to meet the hard length of his cock against my ass.

He was naked and warm, his body substantial and his cock pressing against me like my favorite kind of invitation.

“You’re awake?” he murmured, rubbing against me like a cat.

I spread my legs as much as his weight would allow to make room for him there.

“I’m awake. What time is it?”

“Too early for you to worry about what time it is,” he said, nipping at my earlobe. Above me, Marshall shifted his hand between our bodies, pointing his cock—which was slick with lube—against my hole.

Taking him at his word, I closed my eyes and breathed in deep.

I was awake, but my head ached from the embarrassing volume of crying I’d done the night before.

After Marshall made me handwrite my article, he fed me veggies and fruit and made out with me until I was near tears again, desperate to get off.

Instead, he tucked me into bed, and I fell asleep wrapped in the safe cocoon of his arms.

The slick, blunt tip of his dick brushed across my hole, but Marshall denied me.

He entered me with two slippery fingers, thrusting with his whole body to get in.

I buried my face in the pillow and groaned, trying to deepen the arch in my back to make access easier for him, but whenever I tried to shift or move, he stopped.

“If I want your help, I’ll tell you,” he warned, easing his fingers out of me.

I forced myself to stillness, and Marshall rewarded me with the thick stretch of his cock.

He cursed under his breath, sinking every inch of his dick into me with one agonizingly slow and slippery thrust. Staying still was work, every muscle in my body waking up hungry to respond. This was what I’d wanted the night before, and this was what he’d deprived me of.

“You feel…” Marshall trailed off, sucking a sloppy kiss against the sensitive spot behind my ear. He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. Feeling him bare was like heaven. The stretch, the friction, the veins of his cock…

Marshall grabbed my arms out from under me and pinned my wrists behind me, and my eyes rolled.

“God, I wanted to wake you up and slow fuck you, but when I get inside of you, I turn into an animal.” He growled in my ear, pressing his weight down onto my wrists and slamming into me with enough force to knock the breath out of my lungs.

It was the best way to wake up.

My dick was hard as a rock, twisted in the sheets, and the tension only tightened with every pump of Marshall’s hips.

It was like being choked down there, the pressure an unexpected burst of pleasure.

With a low grunt, he released my wrists and grabbed my hips, yanking me up so my chest pressed against the bed.

The sheets unfurled from around my dick, and he thrust into me even harder than before.

With my ass up in the air, he had a better angle and with the blood flow returning to my erection, I found myself lightheaded and gasping.

“Come,” he told me, low and rough, and I didn’t even have to try.

Within seconds, cum shot out of my cock.

My body seized, muscles spasming, and above me, Marshall let out a low and rumbling roar.

His cock thickened inside of me, his hot cum shooting deep into my body.

There was no condom to keep us apart, and I struggled for air before throwing my face into the pillows to muffle the sounds of my pleasure.

“No,” Marshall warned, a fist in my hair. He pulled me up forcefully, deepening the arch in my back and bringing my face up for air. “I want to hear every sound you make, Silas. They’re mine.”

I sputtered, another burst of cum leaking from my cock at his words. Behind me, Marshall had gone still, save for the heave of his chest as he breathed and the pulse of his cock as he continued to empty into me. I closed my eyes and went limp, letting him hold me upright by the hair, by the hip.

He eventually lowered me down to the bed, petting his hands over the slope of my back as I murmured content sounds into the space between us.

He eased out of me with a groan, then rolled onto his back to my side.

His arm lay outstretched in invitation, and I shuffled closer so I was half on his chest, half on the ruined sheets.

“How did you sleep?” he asked after his breathing had settled back to normal.

“All night.”

He kissed the top of my head. “How are you feeling?”

“In what way?”

“Both. ”

“Physically, perfect.” I reached down and gave a slow stroke of my cock, already going soft. My skin stuck to my palm, cum already cooling and drying. “When you were…when we…”

I trailed off, suddenly feeling unsure of how to explain to him what had happened with the sheets, with my body. It was one thing to admit I liked to be spanked, to be caned, to be deprived of my senses, another entirely to tread further.

“Tell me.” His words were soft but had no room for argument.

“The sheets twisted around my dick while you were fucking me, and I liked it.”

“Did it hurt you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes. A little.”

Marshall hummed and wrapped his arm around me, brushing hair back from my face. “And emotionally?”

“Good,” I answered, which was true because, at that moment, I was.

But I knew as soon as the adrenaline and arousal subsided, reality would come crashing back down around me.

My dad had fired me, and that was worse than just losing my job.

I wasn’t sure what would become of our relationship after the conversation—the argument—we’d had the day before.

“Silas.”

“I don’t have another option,” I said, closing my eyes and breathing in the comforting smell of Marshall’s sweat mixed with the lingering undertones of his bath soap. “I’ll find another job.”

“Do you want me to get you in touch with my friend Cory?”

“It can’t hurt.”

“As soon as we’re up, I’ll call him,” he said.

I pulled my lips together between my teeth and exhaled. “Thank you.”

“Coffee is ready.” Marshall stroked his fingers down my shoulder, down my arm. He paused, almost as if deliberating before saying, “I need to shower and get ready for work, but you can make me breakfast. Everything you need is in the fridge.”

A surge of complicated emotions exploded inside of me, somewhere between my chest and my stomach. I liked the command. I welcomed it, but for some reason I was beyond nervous about what it meant.

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, reluctantly untangling myself from Marshall’s arms. My borrowed clothes were discarded on the floor, and I grabbed the sweats but not the shirt. Marshall watched me get half-dressed, and he stayed in bed long after I padded barefoot out to the kitchen.

The coffee pot was full, two empty mugs sitting beside it, and I poured one for myself.

I’d fill his after he was ready for it so it didn’t get cold.

In the fridge, I found eggs and bacon. Bread in the pantry.

In the other room, the shower turned on, and I flipped the gas on the front burner to medium-high.

The monotony of scrambling eggs and frying bacon was the perfect thing to follow the wake-up sex, and by the time Marshall appeared in the dining room, barefoot in a pair of navy slacks and a white button-up, with damp hair and a freshly shaven jawline, I wasn’t terrified of what was going to come next.

He sat down at the table, same seat as the night before, and didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. Warmth rolled through me as I poured him a hot cup of coffee then served it to him.

“Cream or sugar?” I murmured.

He answered with a small shake of his head. “No, Silas. Thank you.”

I went back to the kitchen, mentally trying to fight back the arousal that had started to once again burn between my legs.

I made up two plates of eggs, bacon, and toast, then brought it all back to the table and slid into the seat beside him.

He didn’t tell me to wait, but I found my hands folded neatly in my lap until he took the first bite of eggs.

Only then did I pick up my fork and start to eat.

Marshall noticed, of course, raising an eyebrow at me without calling it out, and I blinked at him before looking down at my bacon. The strips were juicy and fatty, and I huffed out an exhale, thinking about Lincoln and his apology bacon.

“Is the bacon funny?” Marshall asked, taking a drink of his coffee.

“It just reminded me of Lincoln.”

His mouth turned up into an amused smirk. “Tell me more.”

“The morning after…the morning after you and I saw each other at Rapture that first time?—”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “The morning after you were assaulted.”

I sighed, nodding. “That morning, he made me apology bacon. We were eating it when you called. It’s nothing. It just made me think of him.”

Marshall picked up a slice of bacon and bit into it, chewing and swallowing before responding. “What does Lincoln do for work?”

The butter on my toast melted slowly, sinking into the grain of the bread the same way I wanted to sink into the floor. It wasn’t that I worried Marshall would care about Lincoln’s job, I just didn’t want it to complicate things.

“He makes movies,” I answered, biting into the crust of my toast. “Adult movies.”

“He makes porn.”

I shoved another bite of toast into my mouth. “Yeah.”

“Have you ever?”

“I told you our relationship isn’t like that,” I said.

Marshall used his toast to slide the last bit of his eggs onto his fork. “I meant in general, not with him. ”

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I haven’t.”

“I wouldn’t care if you had,” he said. “Are you finished eating?”

The questions were so conversational, so far from what I expected.