Page 34 of The Prophet


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My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “At the Harbor?”

“No, at the hotel near the Bone Yard.” Marc’s hand covers mine. “You’ve been complaining about tight spaces, so let’s stay out for the night. We can order room service and rent the new action movie you’ve wanted to watch.”

Tempted, I peek at him from the corner of my eye. “And leave Sharpe and Darius alone for the night?”

“They’re big boys.” Fire rises to his palm. “It’s been a while since it’s been just you and me.”

Desire curls in my stomach. “What will we tell them?”

“That they’re on their own for the night.” Marc whips out his cell phone and taps out a text. “There, done.”

My pocket buzzes with an incoming message, followed by another.

Marc snorts.

I peek at his screen before focusing back on the road. “What did they say?”

“Darius wants us back for breakfast.” Marc grins at me. “Looks like we have permission.”

“One dinner and a movie it is.” I flip the blinker and take the next right, heading across town toward the Bone Yard.

As I drive, Marc’s fingers push through mine, and flames tickle my skin, flirting with the back of my hand and my wrist without sinking inside me.

My pulse quickens, and I tap the gas to go a little faster.

He lifts my hand to his lips, nibbling at my fingertips, the warmth of his mouth and the gentle suction promising more to come. His free hand cups my thigh, his blunt nails scratching at the inner seam and sending small vibrations up my leg to my core.

“Whoa there, cowboy.” My stomach clenches, and desire pools between my legs. “Keep doing that, and we’re skipping straight to dessert.”

“We’re adults.” His hand moves higher, spreading delicious heat through my body, and he cups my center. “We can have dessert first.”

We reach the wall to the Bone Yard, and I don’t pause at the red light before turning right and speeding the four blocks to the hotel. It’s the place people stay at when they come to visit the Yard, and they have embraced their clientele by revamping their decor.

I slam to a stop in front of the valet station, my breaths coming fast. For a moment, my gaze snags on the stone lions at the entrance. Fake flames adorn them, the transparent, red-and-yellow cloth dancing around the statues. I feel like that lion, burning up from Marc’s touch.

A young man in slacks and a vest comes to help me out, and Marc’s hand leaves me. In a lust-filled daze, I climb out of the car and follow Marc’s broad back toward the double glass doors.

I catch snippets of the changes the hotel has made to their building. The gold metal is now painted glossy black. The carpet in the lobby has been replaced by dark-wood floors. More of the same panels the walls, and red light shines from the lamps at the check-in desk.

It feels more like a sex dungeon than an homage to the Yard, but that works for me.

Marc gets us a room while I hover by the staircase that sweeps up to the second story. When he joins me, he leads me to the elevators and selects the third floor.

The doors close, and he backs me up to the mirrored wall, his big body blocking the view of the rest of the space. His hands fist my hair, and he tips my head back, his lips sliding over mine.

Our tongues tangle, wet heat filling my mouth as he grabs my ass and lifts me onto my toes. The hard length of his cock rocks against my center, and I moan.

All too soon, the elevator stops on our floor, and we separate.

My pulse races as Marc takes my hand and pulls me down the black-and-red hallway, the coloring leaving me disoriented. Blood pulses through my body, the red light wavering around us.

At one of the polished, lacquered doors, he pauses to shove the keycard into the lock, and I lean into his side, my bones already melting.

The entry to the room passes by in an impression of more black and red before Marc tugs me into the bathroom.

With desperate hands, we peel each other’s clothes off and stumble into the shower. The cold water evaporates from Marc’s skin as he drags his lips from mine.

He moves down my body, teeth raking over my hard nipple followed by soothing suction. On his knees, he nuzzles my mons and sucks my clit.

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