The Sextet - Entanglements [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (15 page)

“You smell amazing,” he said. “All wet and willing and hot. All woman.”

And then his mouth was there, the heat of his breath and the warmth of his wet tongue stroking her clit, teasing her as his fingers had done only moments before.

She arched off the bed, the need so fierce it was almost painful. Desire tightened her muscles, clenched her fists, and had her tugging at the bonds that held her wrists.

Her belly tightened, wound like a coil deep inside her as tension grew with each stroke of his tongue. His lightly whiskered face abraded the inside of her thigh, driving the tension even higher.

Just as Hannah reached the precipice, Marcus raised his dark head to look at her. His lips were wet with her juices, and he pressed a kiss to her belly. “Not without me. I want to be inside you when you come, so I can feel you shudder around me.”

He moved down to her ankles and tied them to the bed. She was fully at his mercy now, unable to move or roll over or even protest anything he wanted to do to her. Not that she would have argued anyway. He’d worked magic on her body as surely as he did every night onstage.

Rising up on his knees, Marcus grabbed the foil packet he’d fished out of his jeans before shucking them. Hannah watched as he handled himself, rolling the condom onto that big, beautiful cock of his. And then he was over her, pressing at her slick entrance.

He flicked his tongue over her nipples, and she arched against him. Needing him, wanting him deep inside her.

“Ready?” he asked, pressing the tip of his cock inside her a fraction of an inch.

“God, yes. Please.” She arched up, trying to get more of him inside her, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“Uh-uh. Slowly,” he said, clearly enjoying the torture. “I want you to feel every inch of me as I fill you.”

Hannah bit her lip and would have pounded the bed in frustration if her wrists had been free. “Please. Marcus, please. I need you.”

“You’ll just have to wait,” he said, pushing in another scant inch. “There’s nothing you can do about it, is there?”

“No,” she said, more of a sigh than words. She tried to buck up again, but he held her hips tightly to the bed, refusing her that movement as well.

Marcus was always in charge onstage. He was supremely in control of every light, every movement, every trick and nuance, and even of the audience and their reactions once they were under his spell. But he controlled in a subtle way, through sound and gesture, action and dramatic pause. Now, though, he was blatant about it—about his power and her helplessness. He was unapologetically dominant, and she loved it. The bindings only added to the sensation of being at his erotic mercy, but she knew his sensual mastery would have overcome her, regardless.

He withdrew the bit he had entered and teased her clit gently, rubbing the slick tip of himself over her sensitive nub until her fingernails were digging into her palms and her head was thrown back in pleasure that bordered on pain. She felt empty and hollow, and there was only one thing that could fill her. One man. “Marcus,” she groaned shamelessly. “Please.”

“Please what?” His voice was as husky and breathless as hers.

“Please. Fuck me. Please.”

Maybe it was the need that mirrored hers or maybe it was the raw language that burst through his control, but in the next instant he thrust into her fully, grinding his pelvic bones against hers. The long stretch had her screaming his name, the sensation of fullness ripping her breath from her lungs.

“God,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re so tight. And hot. I can’t…”

He was moving then, in smooth strokes in and out of her. Every sensation in her body seemed to be centered there, driving her need even higher. Friction on every nerve ending below her waist was engaged, and the scent of her sweat, of their mutual desire, only added to the sensual onslaught.

“Marcus,” she said over and over. His name was a prayer and an entreaty and a celebration all at once.

Marcus grasped her hips and drove into her even harder, his low grunts with each thrust matching her own. At last the spring of tension inside her burst, spewing geysers of hot, shuddering warmth throughout her body. She was flying, crying out his name with every wave of pleasure.

She felt his fingers tighten on her hips, and he let out his own cry of completion as he pulsed hotly inside of her.

Sweaty and exhausted and utterly sated, Hannah lay on the cool sheets with her eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, lying across her. He held most of his weight on his elbows and was still deep inside her. “I was a little rougher than I meant to be.”

“No,” she said finally. “I like rough. Perfect.”

He chuckled and brushed the sweat-dampened hair from her face. “Good.”

He reached up to untie one wrist and then the other with a tug at the silken scarves. Then he rubbed each wrist and kissed them.

She brought them around his neck and smiled into the eyes that were only a few inches from hers.

“You’re amazing.”

“No, you are,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

“We’re both paragons of perfection, then.”

“I guess so.” He raised himself up and slowly withdrew from her, eliciting another gasp.

“I can’t believe MeLindah dumped you.”

He chuckled. “Sex was never my problem.”

“Obviously.” Hannah sat up and pulled her tangled hair back from her face. “So what was?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, putting all his concentration into untying her ankles. She waited.

“You.”

“Me? I was the one who screwed up all your relationships with all those beautiful, successful supermodels? That’s a little unfair.”

Marcus finished untying her ankles and met her gaze. “Absolutely.”

“How do you figure?” Hannah scooted to the edge of the bed so that her knees were on either side of his torso and she could read the emotion in his eyes.

“Because they weren’t you.”

Hannah was speechless for a full ten seconds, looking deep into his eyes to gauge his sincerity.

“I’ve wanted you from the first moment you walked on my stage three years ago,” Marcus said, taking her hands.

“So why is this just now happening when we could have been doing this for three years?”

“Because I convinced myself mixing work and pleasure was a mistake.” He frowned and looked away. “I still think it is.”

“You wish we hadn’t—”

“God, no,” he said with a ferocity she hadn’t seen in him before. “This, you, were amazing.” He kissed her lips almost chastely before drawing away again. “I just don’t know where we go from here. What happens next. What I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to—”

Hannah silenced him with a kiss. Once she felt him relax, she pulled away to look into his eyes again. “You think too much,” she said. We’ll figure it out. Wing it.”

“That’s not the way I operate,” he said, the line still creasing his forehead. “I like to—”

“Be in complete and utter control. Master of your entire universe.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him to her. “That’s something you’re going to have to work on, Mr. Control Freak. And I think I can help.”

He smiled at her, relaxing a little. “Hmmm. I may just enjoy this therapy.”

“Oh, I know you will,” Hannah said, kissing him deeply. “Trust me.”

Chapter 5

“What happened out there?” Marcus asked, using a towel to remove his stage makeup and the perspiration caused by the hot stage lighting.

For the first time in three years, Hannah had missed her cue. It wasn’t her fault, really. It was Marcus. Marcus had been the only thing on her mind morning, noon, and night since they’d finally done the deed two weeks earlier. And every day since then. And twice that morning. How on earth could she still want him? How on earth could she still walk upright?

She’d been watching him from the wings of the stage during the parts of the show he did solo and totally got lost in just looking at him. Imagining him without his clothes. Naked. Above her. Behind her. Inside her.

Hannah shook the thoughts out of her head and stripped off the sequined stage costume, hanging it on the bar in the small backstage dressing room. Marcus lounged in her cushy chair in the corner. “I guess I was preoccupied.”

She looked at Marcus in the mirror, expecting him to be wearing the teasing grin she saw more and more of the past few days. Instead her was frowning and looking tense.

“What?” she asked, turning to face him.

“It’s just…I’m wondering…” He met her gaze. “Is this a mistake?”

Fear iced her words. “This?”

“You and me.”

Hannah stiffened. “I don’t know. Is it?”

He must have caught the edge in her voice because he rose and walked over to her. But he was still frowning.

“You regret not finding a new supermodel fuck-buddy?”

He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Of course not.”

“Then what is it? Why can’t you just relax and go with this…whatever it is?”

“I don’t know. I just feel so…out of control with you. I think about you all the time.”

She smiled slightly. “Good. I think about you, too. Things I’d like to do to you.” She ran her hands up his chest, relaxed now that she knew he wasn’t about to dump her. Not yet, anyway.

“It takes my mind off what we’re supposed to be doing. The job.”

“Good,” she said, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. “You think about work too much.”

“Not good,” he said, but he didn’t sound nearly as resolute once his belt was unbuckled and her hands were inside. “God, Hannah. You’re going to be the death of me.”

He put both hands in her hair then and kissed her, hot, hard and openmouthed.

After several long moments, she pushed him away, gasping. “No, you’re going to be the death of you. If you don’t learn to relax. You don’t have to control everything every second of the day.”

“I do,” he said, kissing her again.

“You don’t,” she said, stepping back.

“I do,” he said, sighing. “And right now I have to exercise that control because we have to practice that damned wheel trick.”

For the first time she could remember, Hannah was not looking forward to practicing with Marcus. She was looking forward to a lot of other things though.

“Really? Can’t we do it tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he said, rebuckling his belt. “We can practice tonight and tomorrow.”

Hannah groaned.

“You’re the one who insisted on doing it,” he reminded her. “We need to practice.

“I know, I know.”

Hannah pulled the sexy teal costume out of the wardrobe closet and slipped into it. Marcus had had the wheel moved to the theatre a few days earlier, so they were spared the drive out to the warehouse now. Marcus watched her dress, and she realized that maybe practice didn’t have to be all work, after all.

Smiling at Marcus as she adjusted the straps of the low cut costume, Hannah cupped her breasts, caressing her erect nipples as she did.

“Not fair,” Marcus said, his voice gone husky. “Not fair at all.”

“What? I’m just getting into my costume,” Hannah said innocently.

She made a show of fluffing her hair and adjusting her costume, loving that his eyes were on her body and that if his need was anywhere close to Hannah’s, he was on the verge of saying the hell with the trick and driving into her right there.

But Marcus was a man of ultimate control, damn it, and if he had his mind set on practice, then practice they would.

“Ready,” Hannah said brightly. Marcus’s fly was straining at the monster erection he was sporting, making her grin.

“Looks like you’re having some sort of wardrobe malfunction there.”

“Let’s get this done, and then I’ll show you my malfunction.”

It was late, and all the house lights were off. Hannah could hear the faint sounds of the slots in the main part of the hotel and the incessant hum of the air conditioning system, but the rest of the theatre was quiet.