Bachelor's Bait (10 page)

Sophie turned her attention to Marc as this new fact about her
boyfriend
fell into place. “You’re rich?” she asked.

Marc didn’t reply at first, then he cleared his throat uneasily. “Technically, my
family
is rich.”

Her father, not catching the undertones in their conversation, chuckled. “Semantics, my dear boy. Filthy rich, I’d say.”

“Filthy rich,” she repeated, her gaze narrowing.

This time her tone alerted her father there was something wrong. “Well, I mean, I guess I could be overestimating his family’s wealth or…”

Marc’s guilty expression said that her father’s guess had been dead-on. “No, I don’t think you were,” she said softly.

“Sophie—” Marc began.

She held up her finger to stop him. “Wait.”

She turned to her father. Too many things were falling in on her at once. She needed to deal with the men in her life one at a time. “Dad, it’s not too late.”

Dad’s brow creased for a moment then cleared when he realized what she was saying. His smile grew. “Thank God. I thought I’d lost you for good. I love you, Soph. That never stopped, never went away. I just lost my way and—”

“I know.” She took a step closer, walking into her father’s embrace. He hugged her tightly. The strength of his arms and the memories of being held like this as a child crept up on her. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek. “I love you too,” she whispered against his chest.

Dad pulled away and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Come by for lunch tomorrow? I have a meeting arranged with Rich Gregory about future plans for the community center. He and I are hoping we can convince you to spearhead some of the programs.”

For years, she’d resisted her life and the path she’d seemed destined to walk, feeling as though it wasn’t a worthy calling. Now she understood she had a knack for organizing charity events, planning parties, fundraising. And more than that, it was something she enjoyed. “I’d like that.”

“You are so much like your mother.”

Her father’s compliment filled Sophie’s heart until she feared it would burst.

Dad said his goodbyes to her and Marc and she watched as he walked to his limo.

Once he was gone, she turned her attention to Marc—the millionaire-pauper lawyer.

“Sophie, I can—”

She ignored him, looking over her shoulder toward the back of the bar. “Come with me.”

Marc looked as if he wanted to insist she hear him out, but instead he followed when she led him to the storeroom. Once they were inside, she shut the door. The small space reminded her of the coat closet.

Marc’s face resembled that of a man standing before the firing squad. It took all the strength she had not to laugh.

“Are you going to give me a chance to explain?”

She shook her head. “I don’t care.”

“Goddamn it, Soph! I know we haven’t been seeing each other that long, but I think I’ve at least earned the right to—”

“I don’t care,” she said louder. “I don’t care about your family’s prestigious name or law firm or money. I know why you didn’t tell me. Jesus, Marc. Do you really think I don’t get it?”

He fell silent. She could tell he was still uncertain.

“I’m actually a bit jealous of your bravery. I never for a moment considered moving away from Portland, moving someplace where Jasper Kennedy’s name meant nothing. Instead, I’ve lived here my entire life, allowing my dad to set me up with eligible men because the guys I would have
liked
to date were too intimidated by my father’s wealth to ask me out.”

Marc frowned. “You really don’t care?”

She shook her head. “Not about the money. I mean, I don’t want to be judged because of how much I stand to inherit, so how can I subject you to the same thing without being a gigantic hypocrite? However, you
do
owe me an apology—a big one—for not giving me the same consideration when we first met.”

Marc’s shoulders sagged. “You’re right. I was a huge dick.”

She laughed. “Wow. I stand corrected. You and Chuck don’t have anything in common. You actually get it.”

Marc shoved his hands in his front pockets, looking miserable, worried. “I’m really sorry, Sophie. And I don’t blame you if you don’t feel like accepting my apology this time. I’m saying those words to you way too often.”

She tilted her head. “Is there anything else you’re hiding from me? Need to make amends for?”

“No. I can’t think of anything. At the moment.”

She stepped closer. “Good.”

“So we’re okay?”

“I’d say we’re a little better than okay, wouldn’t you? Last night was…” She let Marc fill in the blanks, helping him along as she dragged her fingers along his chest seductively.

Marc released a long, loud sigh of relief that made her happier than she thought possible. He’d been more nervous than she’d realized. The idea that he was afraid of losing her touched her heart.

He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her so tightly it took her breath away. Her stomach brushed his erection.

She pulled away and glanced down. “Seriously? We ran a damn marathon last night and this morning. You can’t honestly…”

He grasped her hand, rubbing it along the front of his cargo pants and distracting her. “I told you before. It’s these short skirts you wear.”

He turned her away from him and together they took a step closer to the door. Marc turned the lock on the knob then hit the light switch. They were plunged into absolute darkness.

Something about losing the sense of sight notched up Sophie’s arousal. Her other senses kicked into overdrive.

“I’m afraid this isn’t going to take very long. I’ve been hard since you left my house this morning. I swear to God, you’re better than a dose of Viagra.”

“Romantic fool,” she teased. She started to laugh, but the sound quickly morphed to a gasp when Marc raised her skirt and slapped her ass. The burn of his hand against her sensitive flesh felt far too good. “Do that again,” she whispered.

Marc repeated the slap on her other ass cheek then placed his hand on her back, subtly urging her to bend forward. Sophie pressed her hands against the door, tilting at the waist. The obvious acquiescence spurred Marc to action.

She heard the rasp of a zipper, the tearing of a wrapper, felt the head of his cock travel along her slit.

He hadn’t lied. He was rock-hard, thick and ready. She felt him slide easily along her slick pussy and realized she was more than prepared to take him in herself.

“You’re wet.”

She nodded before realizing he couldn’t see the gesture. Reaching back, she tried to halt his teasing rubs, to force his cock inside her body.

Marc brushed her hand aside.

“Stop screwing around.” Her voice betrayed her hunger.

“I haven’t even started screwing around yet.”

She tried to grasp his cock again but Marc anticipated the move, was there waiting for her. Gripping both of her wrists, he pulled them to the small of her back, holding them together with one hand. With the other, he placed three more hard, fast slaps on her ass.

She squirmed, twisted, seeking the relief only his cock could provide. Marc’s grip tightened and Sophie groaned. God. She’d never been so turned-on in her life.

“Hold still,” he demanded.

He may as well ask her to fly to the moon. She was capable of neither. He spanked her again and she trembled with need.

“Please,” she whispered, pride be damned. The entire experience was driving her out of her mind. The darkness, the spanking, her immobile wrists. It was as if Marc had a direct line to her dirtiest fantasies.

“You like being controlled. Forced.”

It wasn’t a question. And he didn’t sound turned off by that insight.

“Shit, Soph. Do you have any idea how hot that is?”

She forced herself to take deep breaths—air in through the nose, out from the mouth, in through nose…

The head of his cock touched her anus and she shivered, wishing he’d shove the damn thing inside her—anywhere inside her.

“I’m stopping by the store as soon as I leave here and buying lube. I’m going to fuck this pretty little ass tonight.”

“Yes,” she whispered. He ran his free hand along the heated cheeks. She stretched up on her toes, trying to invite more of that delicious stroking. Instead he moved his hand and gathered a handful of her hair. Tightening his grip, he used it to pull her back to standing.

The vicious yank had her juices flowing. She’d never felt so wet. He moved them forward until her chest was flat against the door.

“You’re my captive,” he mumbled, his deep voice driving her fantasy into an entirely new realm.

“God!” she gasped. “Marc.” Every word he spoke was pure magic, setting off sparks in parts of her body that had never known arousal until this moment. Her stomach clenched in anticipation, her nipples ached, her scalp tingled.

Marc nipped at her earlobe. “When you get to my place tonight, we’re going to expand on this. I’m going to tie you to my bed, blindfold you, spank your ass and withhold your orgasm until you’re begging for it, promising me anything and everything until I let you come.”

“Please.” She was begging him
now
, though she wasn’t sure if it was his cock or his dirty promises that she wanted more.

Marc pulled her hands away from her back, placing them against the door, palms flat. “Keep them there. Don’t move them.”

Before she could respond, he grasped her hips, dragging them back until she was bent over once more.

Then, finally, he gave her exactly what she wanted. And then some. He shoved in to the hilt with one powerful thrust. The strength of it would have propelled her face-first into the door if her hands hadn’t been there to hold her back. He didn’t relent, didn’t give her a chance to become accustomed to him. They’d proven last night and this morning that they fit perfectly.

He fucked her hard, just as he’d promised. When he reached around to touch her clit, Sophie cried out loudly.

Marc chuckled, then his other hand crept up, covering her mouth. “Quiet, Soph, or everyone in the bar will know what’s going on in here.”

Despite his comment, he continued to move thrust, taking her to the point where she didn’t give a damn who heard. His hand, silencing her, added to the illusion of being his captive. It brought her over hard.

Marc kept her mouth covered as her moans grew louder. Her climax ravaged through her. She’d only begun to come back to her senses when Marc came as well.

She loved the way his hand tightened on her hip as he climaxed. Though they’d only been together a few times, she was already becoming accustomed to his tells, the little hints that told her he was on the verge of losing control.

Those things made her feel even closer to him, and again, she was amazed by how quickly their relationship was progressing. He’d told her this morning he was going to fall in love with her. Now, though she knew it was too soon to say the words aloud, she had to admit he’d already staked a rather large claim on her heart.

Her future—with her handsome bachelor—had never looked so promising or so bright.

The End

About Mari Carr

Writing a book was number one on Mari’s bucket list and on her thirty-fourth birthday, she set out to see that goal achieved. Now her computer is jammed full of stories—novels, novellas, short stories and dead-ends. A
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestseller, as well as winner of the Passionate Plume, Mari finds time for writing by squeezing it into the hours between 3 a.m. and daybreak, when her family is asleep and the house is quiet.

You can visit Mari on her website, and also on
Facebook
and
Twitter
. She blogs at
International Heat
and hangs out on the Heat Wave Readers
Yahoo group
.

Mari welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.

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