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“This is mine. A storm I created and I’ll be the one to control it,” I purr, relishing in her growing desperation, then she pulls and tugs my hair, trying to ride the sensations building inside of her.
~Cassandra~
Mark’s claiming me. My body knows it. My heart feels it. And my mind seeks it.
My cries echo in the room and the scent of arousal saturates the air. When my pelvic muscles start to spasm, he plunges his cock into my wet pussy, filling me to the brim.
“Fuck, this is so damn perfect,” he rasps and groans, flipping me on my back and hauling one leg up to his shoulder. “You’re my paradise. Let’s make me your sin.”
My mouth parts and eyes roll in the back of my head when he changes the angle, hitting a sweet spot inside.
Mark's eyes are wild and full of savage hunger as he thrusts. Curving his hips so he can hit my clit when he slams back inside.
“Mark.” Everything inside of me throbs like he awakened every nerve ending.
His formidable body moves like he’s rewriting something in me. His tenacious energy courses through me, sculpting, shaping, and enslaving like the bird he loves to call me.
“Please,” I gasp a plea, scratching his back.
But he kisses my parted lips, sweetly coaxing my body.
“Come,” he demands, setting me off with that one word. And I come apart like a comet with a stardust tail, falling to the Earth.
His mouth captures my screams, drinking my moans and shaping them into small cries.
Mark rests his sweaty forehead against mine. Tenderness glimmers in the whiskey depths, but if I burst them open, the secrets ooze out of them.
“You are mine now,” he declares.
“And you are at home, Mark,” I counter, winding my hands around him.
He kisses my bruised lips, and we curl together, letting blissful exhaustion drag us to sleep.
The ringing phone rouses me from a deep slumber. I open my eyes and let them adjust to my surroun
dings. Mark softly snores into the pillow next to me. I chuckle internally, thinking how relaxed he looks. Not to wake him, I slip from under his arm and grab his T-shirt to cover myself. Padding into the kitchen, I find my bag and rummage through it, trying to find my smartphone.
“Leif, what is it?” I answer.
“Hi, are you with Mark?” His tone is too solemn for my liking.
“Yeah,” I whisper, closing the bedroom door. “What’s going on?” I demand.
“It would be better if you come home. We need to talk about Mark.”
23
Twisted Games
~Cassandra~
“Sure, give me an hour.” My pulse beats in my throat, sensing the storm about to erupt.
When I disconnect the call, I message my bodyguards to get ready. Pulling on my ripped blouse and pants, I grab a pen and write a note for Mark. Before I go, I brush my lips against his hair, drawing his scent in my lungs. His naked form draped against the sheets beckons me back to bed, but I refrain needing to figure out what’s going on.
I depart Mark’s condo and slip into my waiting car.
“Take me home, please.”
