Sin With Me

13

God, that’s depressing. I’m filled with sudden empathy for one of my patients, who shared with me that she dislikes s*x so much she recites Edgar Allen Poe’s narrative poem “The Raven” while her husband is f*****g her just to keep her mind off how disgusting she finds him.

Marcus offers, “You want me to go down on you?”

“You already did that.”

“So you want me to go down on you again?”

I unhook my ankles from around his back, give him a friendly pat on his muscular shoulder, and shake my head. “I don’t think it will help. I can tell I’m not going to get there, no matter what we try. It’s not you.”

He chuckles. “I know. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He withdraws from my body, rolls to his side, then sits up on the edge of the mattress. With a practiced hand, he removes the condom from his erection and tosses it into the trash can next to the bed. Then he slowly runs a hand over his smoothly shaved head.

He was an athlete in college—running back for USC’s football team—and over the past decade has kept his athlete’s physique. I admire the way the muscles ripple in his back with the movement of his arm. I admire how beautiful his skin is, shining a deep, burnished brown in the low light, like polished wood. I admire the pure masculine physicality of him, his broad hands and strong thighs and thick neck . . .

And I admit to myself that while Marcus is in every way a perfect specimen of male beauty, at the moment I feel about as much enthusiasm for him as I’d feel if my doctor called to schedule me for a colonoscopy.

This is not good. If my libido deserts me I’ll have to find something else to occupy all my free time.

And f**k if I’m about to take up knitting.

Marcus rises from the bed and lumbers into the bathroom. Without turning on the light, he runs the faucet and splashes water on his face. He leans over the counter for a moment, his hands braced against the marble. “You want to go get something to eat?”

I sit up, find my dress and underwear scattered on the floor, and step into my panties.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll just hit it. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.”

I put on my bra, zip up my dress, step into my heels, and comb my fingers through my hair. When I’m finished, I turn to find Marcus leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest, watching me.

He says softly, “You don’t always have to do that, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Run away.”

When I don’t respond, he pushes off the door and comes to stand in front of me. He pulls me against his chest and winds his strong arms around me. “You could stay the night for once. It wouldn’t kill you.”

It probably would, but I decline to share that opinion with him.

“You know I don’t do sleepovers, Marcus.”

“I know. And you don’t talk about your past and you don’t date anyone longer than a month.”

His tone isn’t accusing, only factual, but I find myself feeling defensive anyway. I say into his chest, “I thought we were on the same page about all that.”

“We were.” He pulls away and looks at me. “Until I realized our one-month stand is almost up.”

I frown, trying to remember when we met. “Is it? Honestly I haven’t been keeping track.”

Marcus brushes my hair off my face. “Yeah? That sounds like a good thing. I must be keeping you too preoccupied to watch the calendar.” His smile comes on slow and sultry.

It was the first thing I noticed about him when we met, apart from his sheer size. He’s got a killer smile, totally confident, totally sexy, totally effective on its intended target. I’m always amused when we’re out somewhere together at how easily he can make a woman swoon with nothing but a well-timed flash of that rakish grin.

Absentmindedly, I reach down and fondle his c**k. It’s still stiff. “How many days do we have left?”

“Six.”

His voice is thick. I know he loves it when I’ve got my hands on him. He loves to watch me jerk him off, loves the contrast in the colors of our skin, my paleness against his darkness, my small, soft palms gripping his big, hard d**k.

I sigh. He really is a good one. Too bad our time is almost up.

Suddenly he takes my head in his hands and kisses me, hard. When he breaks away, he says, “Let’s renegotiate our deal. Tack on a few extra days, see how it goes. What do you say?”