Red, White and Sensual (11 page)

Regards,

Ben.

I stare at the screen for long
moments, I even blink a few times. Did Benjamin Ford just say sorry? I go back to check for anymore emails from him, sure I’m going to see one that says “Just kidding, I’m not sorry” but there’s none. I considering ignoring him, but part of me has needed him to say sorry for a long time now. I just wanted him to admit what he did was wrong. I hit the reply button and carefully type out my reply.

To: Benjamin Ford

From: Sierra Walters.

Subject: RE:
Apology.

Hi Ben,

Thank you for your apology, it means a great deal to me.

Thanks,

Sierra.

I click send and then sigh in relief. Phew, that wasn’t so bad. I continue doing some work when another email comes through from Ben. Curious, I open it.

To: Sierra Walters.

From: Benjamin Ford.

Subject: RE Apology.

Sierra,

Are you always so nice to jerks?

Ben.

I shake my head and reply.

To: Benjamin Ford

From: Sierra Walters

Subject: RE
Apology

I’m feeling giving today, and I know that for a man like you, that apology would have taken a lot. So I appreciate it. I don’t hate you Ben. I hate what you did.

I click the email closed, feeling a flood of emotions swarm through me. A big part of me wants to forgive Ben, but the other part will never recover from what he did to me. I hear a loud crashing sound in Marcus’ office a moment later. With a sigh, I stand and walk out. Marcus is leaning against his desk, hands pressed firmly against the dark wood. He looks up at me with fire in his eyes.

“Are you ok, Marcus?”

He glares at me and I flinch. What have I done now?

“Please leave me alone, Miss Walters.”

“What have I done?” I snap.

“I said,” deep breath, “leave.”

“Not until you tell me why. I haven’t done anything wrong and you’re acting like you’ve got multiple personalities!”

He pushes off the desk and storms over, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him.

“Have you been having a nice morning?”

“What are you on about?” I snap.

“How have your emails been?”

I
t clicks.

“You can see my emails?”

“Of course I can,” he barks. “I’m your fucking boss.”

I shove his hand from my chin and take a few steps back.

“Yes, you are my boss but you’re not my boyfriend. I spoke to Ben, get over it.”

“Get over it?” he snarls.

“Yes, Marcus, get over it. I don’t belong to you.”

He steps forward, his ey
es narrowing as he looms over me.

“Don’t you?”

He grips me before I can say another word and throws me over his shoulder. I growl and pummel my fists into his ass but he doesn’t stop. He carries me into my office and then throws me down onto the desk. Pencils, pens and papers scatter as he slides me backwards. He grips my legs, trying to bring my knees up but I clench them tightly shut. He swats my thigh and a delicious sting tingles through me.

He grips my knees again, pulling them apart. I let him. Soon I’m exposed
and wide open in front of him. His hungry gaze drinks me in before he looks up and meets my eyes again. All I see in his gaze is pure determination. I close my eyes and swallow, wondering what will come next. He won’t let me come? Maybe he’ll spank me. When he lowers his head and I feel his tongue slide across my clit, I groan.

He grips my thighs and he licks me so hard, so deep, that I’m writhing and begging for more in seconds. His tongue swirls around and around, teasing my clit, taunting it. When he lets me come, I’m
surprised but oh so grateful. When he doesn’t stop licking and twirling his tongue, my back arches again. He takes my clit into his mouth, sucking long and deep. His finger finds my entrance and he slides it in, then he adds another one.

His tongue works while
his fingers gently find that sweet spot and stroke it until I’m coming again. When he still doesn’t stop, I know exactly what he’s doing. Coming over and over can be just as awful a punishment as not coming at all. I squirm and try to get out of his grips but he slaps my thigh, making me whimper and clench around his fingers. He works them harder now, sliding them in and out with hard, measured thrusts.

His tongue works me, swirling and probing until I’m screaming his name for a third time. By now my whole body is on fire, every part of my skin feels
ultra-sensitive to the touch and my nipples burn. My aching sex is throbbing so hard it’s becoming painful. There’s only so long ones blood can be swirling in one place before it becomes swollen and painful.

“Marcus,” I whimper.
“Stop.”

“No,” he murmurs into my skin.

I don’t want to say our safe word because it means he’ll never do this to me again and while right now I don’t want him to, I know that’ll change when my body comes down from this torture. Marcus continues with his tongue torture until my body aches. I shove harder at him, I can’t deal with another mind blowing release. My body has already become numb and tingly all over. My mind is hazy.

“Don’t make me use our safe word,” I whimper.

“If you wanted to use it, baby,” he murmurs, “you would have.”

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please stop, Marcus, please.”

He slowly, painfully, swipes his tongue from my entrance right up to my clit in an excruciatingly slow path. I come again, hard, powerful and I slump backwards. I can’t take anymore. I can’t. Marcus tears his mouth away from my heated flesh and crawls up my body until he’s pressed firmly over me, our bodies flat against the long desk. He leans down and gently licks my earlobe.

“Next time you tell me you’re not mine, think long and hard about it. Next time
, I will make you come so many times you won’t walk for three days, then I’ll spank that pretty ass until it flushes for me.”

He pushes off me and stands, shoving his straining cock down in his pants. He presses it firmly with his hand and meets my gaze.

“Don’t email him again.”

Then he turns and leaves the room.
Well….dammit.

CHAPTER
10

As I’m getting ready for dinner later that night, my stomach begins to ache. I’ve been having a few sharp pains all day but it seems to be getting a whole lot worse. I wonder if I ate something
off? I groan as a sharp pain stabs through me as I’m slipping into the shower. The warm water doesn’t do much to ease the pain and when I get out, I’m crouching over. Before I can do anything more, I’m crawling towards the toilet where I proceed to lose the contents of my stomach.

That’s the pain in the ass thing about stomach
bugs, they just creep up on you without warning. Thank god they usually only last twenty four hours. I manage to grip my panties and tank top off the hanger and pull them on. I don’t really want to go far, the cramping in my stomach has not eased. My skin is clammy and I’m trembling. Jesus, I don’t know if this is a stomach bug or if it’s food poisoning. I go over everything I ate today; croissant for breakfast, salmon salad for lunch, nothing in the afternoon. Was the salmon off? I doubt it.

When a sharp jolt has me lifting to my knees and throwing up in the toilet again, I know I’m going to spend a long, awful night beside this toilet. Tears stream down my cheeks as I dry retch until my throat and stomach burn. With aching arms, I flush the toilet but don’t move. I hear my door crack open but I don’t have the energy to move. “Sierra, are you sick?” It’s Marcus’ voice and shame shoots through me thinking about him being in here when I’m like this.

I hear more movement, then see him crouch beside me. He swipes my damp hair from my face. I force myself to look over at him, expecting to see disgust. I know how this room must smell, I know how I must look, but all I see in Marcus’ eyes is sympathy and worry.

“Sorry,” I croak. “I was coming to dinner…”

He stands and grips a face washer, soaking it in water before leaning down to swipe it across my face.

“You’re sick.”

I nod. “It just sort of came on.”

“A few people have had a stomach bug in the last week, I guess you got unlucky. Can you move?”

“You really don’t have to be here, I…”

Marcus lifts me then, cutting off my little speech. He carries me out to the bedroom and I groan as my stomach turns. He lays me gently down on the bed and rushes off to get a glass of water. He’s taking care of me. He’s…looking after me. I sip the water and it burns as it travels down my raw throat. I groan and clutch my stomach. Marcus sits beside me on the bed,
then he pulls out his phone.

“Mary, bring me one of those heat bags, a clean bucket and a jug of water. Maybe some dry crackers too. I’m in Miss Walters
’ room. She’s ill.”

He hangs up the phone and turns back to me, stroking my damp hair from my eyes.

“You’re going to have a bath, because this is going to cause some serious aches in your body. Are you…”

He cuts off when my hand flies up to my mouth, the water has hit my stomach and it doesn’t like it. Marcus grips me so quickly I don’t have a chance to get up and run. He rushes me into the bathroom, but I throw up on the floor before I make it to the toilet. With tears rushing down my face, I crawl to the toilet and finish what I started. Marcus, not caring about the fact that I probably just got vomit on his shoes, rubs my back and murmurs, “That’s a good girl, get it all out.”

I hear another person come in while I’m still wrapped around a toilet. Marcus says a few things to the woman, who I assume is Mary, and then she rushes in and promptly cleans up the small mess I made. It’s only water anyway. When she leaves, Marcus walks over to the spa and begins running it. He turns back to me and kneels, stroking my cheek.

“You shouldn’t touch me,” I whimper. “You’ll get sick.”

“Don’t you worry about me, can you move to get in the bath?”

I nod, swallowing the burning acid that has risen up in my throat. Marcus helps me to my feet and he strips off my sweat soaked shirt and then my panties. I should be embarrassed by this, but after him seeing my throwing up like a
champion, I’m sure this won’t matter. He scoops me into his arms and lays me down in the warm, lightly scented water. Instant relief floods me as the warm water eases my aching muscles and stomach.

“I’m so sorry you had to see me like this,” I croak.

Marcus gives me a half smile and picks up a large, cup type thing. He fills it with water and pours it over my head before filling his palm with shampoo and tangling his fingers into my hair as he lathers it up. I groan and sink back into the water.

“It doesn’t matter to me, we all get sick
, sweet girl.”

I close my eyes and nod, completely lost in the feeling of his fingers working through my hair.
He rinses my hair, then lathers it in conditioner and then sits back. I open my eyes and stare up at him. His gaze searches my face.

“Are you this nice to all the girls?”

He grins. “No, only the sweet ones.”

“I thought I wasn’t a sweet
one?”

He takes my chin and his face grows serious. “You’re one of the
only good ones left.”

I feel my eyes burn with tears and he chuckles, leaning over to swipe a
random one that escapes.

“Great, you’ve seen me at my ultimate worst now.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

“I can imagine you never want to put
your…you know…near me again.”

He grips my face and leans in close. “My cock will always want near you, baby.”

I flush and then groan when my stomach turns again.

“God, will it leave anytime soon?”

He stands and grips a towel. “It will, but it’s not over yet. Come on, you need rest.”

“I’m sure you have better things to do with your time then look after
a horrible, spewing woman.”

He
rinses my hair and then helps me out, wrapping a towel around me. “I can think of nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Something in his voice tells me he means that, and it melts me to my very core. I am beginning to feel something for Marcus that’s so much more than lust. Is it possible
, this soon, to be falling in love with him?

~*~*~*~

I come in and out of consciousness for the rest of the night. I throw up three more times, but finally my stomach settles enough for me to keep water down. Marcus stays with me, not leaving once, for anything. He lies on the bed beside me, bucket ready, stroking my hair. By morning I am so sore, a strangled groan escapes my throat when I go to sit up. Marcus stirs beside me, coming out of his light sleep. He quickly reaches for the bucket but I shake my head.