Spreading My Legs Wide Open

20: Ruining that poor girl?

~ Evie ~

I'm about to bolt out of Marcus's bedroom, my bag slung over my shoulder, still fuming from that pathetic morning disaster. My dress is wrinkled to hell, my hair's a mess, and I can feel his sad little c*m drying on my thighs like some sticky reminder of what a waste this all is. But then he grabs my hands - both of them, tight, like he's hanging on for dear life. "Evie, wait. Please don't go yet."

I stop, turn back to him. He's standing there in his boxers, looking all disheveled and desperate, not like the big-shot billionaire CEO anymore. More like a kicked puppy. "What, Marcus? You want another round of me stroking your ego while your d**k takes a nap?"

He winces, but he doesn't let go. "Stay till Monday morning. Just... play along. Act like everything's fine. I don't want my family knowing about... this." His voice cracks a little, and damn, I actually feel bad for him. Here's this guy with all the money in the world, begging me - a nobody from a regular house - to cover his shame. It's kind of pathetic, but in a way that tugs at me. Everyone's got their s**t, right? His just happens to be in his pants.

I sigh, drop my bag on the floor. "Fine, I get it. You're embarrassed. And yeah, I feel for you. But seriously, a billionaire like you, dropping that much cash on pills or whatever to stay 'fit' in bed? Must suck." I mean, I saw the bottles in his drawer last night - Viagra, some weird supplements. Guy's trying, I'll give him that. But if I'm staying, it's not gonna be for free. The money he wired me is already sitting heavy in my account, like this massive weight I can't ignore. Eight figures? Holy s**t, I'm still pretending I'm not shocked, like it's no big deal. But inside, I'm reeling. That kind of cash could change everything - pay off Dad's house, get me out of that dead-end job. So yeah, I can hang till Monday. It's only Saturday; I can survive two more days in this palace if it means keeping that deposit.

"Okay," I say, crossing my arms. "I'll stay. But what the hell do you expect me to do? Sit around like some dummy or a frustrated i***t till Monday? Pretend we're all cozy while your family plans our fake wedding?"

He nods quick, relief flooding his face. "Just play along. Act like we're getting along great. Smile at dinners, hold my hand in front of them. That's it."

I snort. "Bullshit. You want me to fake it that bad? Fine. But only if you're ready to make it worth my while." I step closer, my voice dropping low and dirty. "Eat my p***y. Right now. And finger-f**k me until I lose my damn mind and come all over your mouth and knuckles."

His eyes go wide, like I just slapped him with a wet towel. But then he swallows, nods. "Deal." No hesitation. Guy's desperate to save face, and honestly, it's a little funny - Mr. Big d**k Energy from dinner last night, now agreeing to go down on me like it's his job. At least his tongue can't go limp.

I shove him back toward the bed. "Get on your knees then. Show me you've got something useful down there." He drops fast, pulling me with him so I'm sitting on the edge of the mattress. I spread my legs wide, hiking up my dress, and he dives in like he's starving. His tongue hits my c**t first, flat and wet, licking slow, and then faster. "Oh f**k, yes," I moan, my hands grabbing his hair already. It's not bad - better than I expected after his d**k fail. He sucks my c**t into his mouth, gentle but insistent, and I buck up against his face. "Deeper, Marcus. Use your fingers too."

He listens, sliding two fingers inside me - thick ones, at least - curling them up to hit that spot. My head falls back, moans spilling out louder than I mean. "s**t, right there. Finger me harder." He's pumping now, tongue flicking wild over my c**t, and damn, the combo's building me up fast. I grind against his mouth, feeling that filthy rush - lusty and raw, my inner voice screaming for more. It's messy down there, his chin already slick with me, but I don't care. "Suck it, yeah - make me come in your mouth."

The room's filling with my moans, echoing off those fancy walls. They're loud, uncontrolled, like I'm owning this place. I bet his mom downstairs is hearing every bit - probably clutching her pearls, thinking, "Oh no, he's ruining that poor girl." Ha, as if. It's not his d**k doing this; it's his tongue and fingers turning me into a puddle. Everyone's got their challenges, right? His is upstairs, mine's trying not to scream the house down while a billionaire eats me out like his life's on the line.

"f**k, Marcus - don't stop." My thighs shake, clamping around his head a little, and he groans into me, vibrations hitting just right. I lose it then - come hard, gushing over his fingers and mouth, knuckles soaked as he keeps pumping through it. My whole body's buzzing, that filthy release washing over me. I pant, pulling his head back by the hair. He's a mess - face shiny, but he looks up at me like he won something. "See? I can make you feel good."

I laugh, breathless. "Yeah, with your mouth. Points for effort." It's funny, him kneeling there all proud while his d**k's probably still hiding. But the tension's still there - I'm staying, but for what? The money? The cover-up? Or just to see if he can redeem himself by Monday? I wipe his chin with my thumb. "Now clean up and act like we're the perfect couple. But tonight? You better bring your A-game, or I'm out."

He stands, wiping his face on his sleeve - gross, but whatever. "Deal. And Evie... thanks for staying. I mean it." I nod, but inside, I'm already thinking about Jack's texts burning up my phone. What if I sneak one back? Tell him Marcus is a flop, that I'm coming home soon? But no - I've got till Monday. Might as well enjoy the perks. The palace, the food, the cash in my account. And hey, if Marcus's tongue is the highlight, at least it's something.

We head downstairs for lunch with the family, me smiling like everything's golden. His mom's giving us side-eye - probably heard my moans. But, God, I need a real f**k soon. Jack? Tonight?