Between the Sheets (9781476775807) (34 page)

“Marika.” Dead silence. I'm too drunk with anger to speak. “Marika, tell me what's going on. What happened?”

I whirl around to face him. “That
bitch
,” I hiss, “is what happened. Now leave me alone so I can think.”

His face tightens. “Yo, really, Marika?” He glances over at the security desk. Once again, we have a small audience. Marcel lowers his voice. “You see around you? Are you sure you wanna do this right here?”

Before I can catch myself I blurt out, “I'm sick of this shit. I didn't sign up for some whore-ass, nutty bitch disrespecting me. I told you she was a fucking problem. But,
nooo
. You thought I was being paranoid.” I turn on my heels.

With a firm grasp on my arm, Marcel turns me back around. He takes a breath. “Now I'm askin' you nicely, aiight? You need to calm the fuck down and talk to me.”

I yank my arm away. “Get your hands off of me. Don't tell me to calm down! Where the hell were you when that bitch was insulting me, huh? Probably somewhere stuffed in some coat closet with your goddamn dick shoved down in some trick's greedy throat.”

Oh God!

Marika, girl, pull it together! What the hell is the matter with you?

I know I am making a scene but I am too goddamn pissed to care.

Marcel's nose flares. “Yo, I'ma act like I didn't hear that shit.” He grabs my arm firmly and pulls me into a small conference room, then lets me go once the door is closed. He locks the door behind him.

“I know you're upset right now. But do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on? Since when you start showin ya muhfuckin' ass in public, huh?”

Before I can reign in my temper, I go off, cursing and screaming. Accusing him of wanting to be with that bitch. Calling him all kinds of son-of-a-bitches. I am wild with anger. “And now that crazy bitch is saying she's goddamn pregnant…by
you
!”

He scowls. “Are you fuckin' kidding me? And you believe that dumb shit?”

“You want that bitch, you can have her. I'm not tolerating this shit from her or any other bitch. And I'm not tolerating you fucking bitches behind my back!”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold up. Wait? You think I'm fucking
her
?”

I huff, folding my arms tightly over my chest. “Aren't you?”

His gaze narrows. “Hell no. I don't want her ass. I can't believe you'd ask me some shit like that. And I can't fuckin' believe you'd accuse me of creepin' on you. What the fuck, yo.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Then why is that
bitch
telling me otherwise, huh?”

“Because she's fuckin' crazy! You said it yourself. And now she has you effen buggin.” He shakes his head again, frustration etched over his handsome face. “And now you're acting just as fuckin' crazy as she is.”

I snarl. “Oh, so now I'm the crazy one here? Well, mighty funny she seems to be making a whole lot of sense to me.”

“Will you listen to yourself, yo. I mean really? Are you hearing yourself right now?”

Several tense seconds tick by as we eye each other before Marcel says, “I need you to hold it together. Why are you letting this chick get up in your head, blacking out, acting like some jealous lover?”

“Do I
need
to be
jealous
?”

“Are you effen kidding me right now?”

“Has she still been calling you?”

He blinks. “Excuse me?”

I tilt my head. “I asked has…that…
bitch
…called you?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah. A few times.”

“And did
you
go see her behind my back?”

A look of surprise registers on his face. “Yeah. To get her to fall the fuck back; that's it.”

“And you gave that bitch a check!” I crumble it in my hand, then throw it in his face.

He frowns. “I gave her that check to bounce, period.”

I tsk. “Well, we see how well that worked out. Don't we?”

“I just wanted her gone. She told me if I came to see her and brought her a check, she'd fall back.”

I give him a yeah-right-tell-me-anything look. Right now I am so drunk with disgust that all I am hearing in my ear is,
“I fucked him. I fucked him. He fucked me. He fucked me. We fucked. We fucked…I'm pregnant…I'm pregnant…”

I give him an incredulous look. “And you believed her?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know what else to do, aiight. I wanted to.”

“So you sneak off to see that
bitch
for some clandestine meeting, then expect me to believe you didn't run off to
fuck
her!”

He gives me a frustrated look. “Marika, c'mon now. What the fuck, man? No. I didn't fuck her. Don't turn this shit into more than it is.”

I scoff. “ ‘Don't turn this shit into more than what it is'? Oh, give me a damn break, Mar
Sell
. You've done a fine job of doing that on your own.

He scowls. “Yo, listen. That broad coming here was outta pocket, but you're fuckin' buggin' now. I—”

Before he can get the rest of his words out, I am up on him.

Slap!

I reach up and smack his face. It happens so quick that I catch him off guard.

His jaw tightens as his hand goes up to his cheek. “For real, though? We slapping now?”

“Oh God, Marcel.….…. I'm so sorry,” I stammer. I go to reach for him, but he brushes past me and opens the conference room door. The door slaps into the wall as he heads toward the bank of elevators.

Oh God! This is not good.

I follow behind him, hot on his trail.

Marcel steps onto the elevator. Eyes blazing fire, he puts his arm out to block me from entering. He uses his other hand to push the button for his floor.

“My advice, take the stairs,” he warns, glancing up at the elevator's security camera. His jaw tightens.

“Mar
Sell,
please. I'm sorry. Let's talk about this.”

He nudges me back. “Yo, I'm not tryna hear that right now. You should have thought about
talking
before you put your muthafuckin' hands on me. Right now, I'm not tryna be responsible for what I might do. So step the fuck back.”

My stomach drops to my feet.

Still glaring at me, his lips tighten. “I'll deal with
you
tonight.”

I step back from the elevator allowing it to close, my heart sinking as Marcel's face disappears from view.

Ohmygod!

What the fuck have I done?

Marika

Nose flaring.

Jaws tight.

Marcel is pissed. No. He's…
furious
.

At me.

That bitch has caused this friction between us.

And I have allowed it.

I let her get to me.

Let her get inside my head.

Causing me to get bat-shit crazy and lash out at my man.

Slapping him.

Blaming him.

Holding him responsible for what that
bitch
is doing to us. When in fact he is not culpable. Neither of us is to blame.

She's the crazy, desperate one.

And, yet,
I
slapped
him
.

I am so, so, very sorry for what I've done. But I know an apology will not be enough.

I've crossed the line.

Marcel and I do not fight.

We do not argue.

We disagree.

We talk.

We make love.

We fuck.

Talk again.

Then fuck again, and again, and again.

Then talk some more.

Then fuck all over again.

We do not yell or scream or disrespect each other.

But in a blink of an eye, I have allowed this craziness with that…that desperate, emotionally unstable tramp to take me out of character and come at my husband all sideways and crazy.

The man I love.

The man I've always trusted and respected.

Nightmare. Definitely a bad fucking dream. Shit like this only happens on television. And in other couple's lives. Not in ours.

We're always so discreet.

Always so careful in whom we bring to our bed.

Until this shit…

“Marcel, I'm sorry,” I whisper, crossing into the sitting area adjacent to our bedroom. It is all I can imagine to say with him sitting there barefoot and bare-chested in his underwear. Boxer briefs.

I fight to keep from staring at his muscular shoulders and pecs tapered down to rippling stomach ridges.

I blink back images of his hard body hovering over mine.

He has a drink in his hand. Rémy. The crystal decanter sits half-f on the table with its Harcourt stopper off, next to the remote for the surround sound.

“You're
sorry
?” He blows out a long breath.

“I was—”

He yanks up his hand, stopping me from taking a step toward him. My mouth clamps shut. He's not done.

“
We
brought that broad into our lives.
We
fucked her. And yeah, the pussy was good. Damn good…”

I flinch.

“But do you really think I'd let some random broad, whose only good for suckin' dick ‘n' takin' it in the ass, come between us?”

I shake my head. “No. I didn't—”

“Then why the
fuck
would you?”

I blink in surprise. Marcel has never spoken to me in this manner. Never.

Then again, I'd never given him cause to.

His jaw clenches and a look of utter fury darkens his eyes.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Marcel, baby—”

“I'm not asking.”

With a swallow, my fingers fly up to the buttons of my blouse, quickly undoing them. I shrug out of my blouse, allowing it to flutter to the floor.

My stiffened nipples and dark-chocolate-colored areolas are visible through my ivory lace bra.

Marcel rakes his graze over my covered breasts, then sucks in a breath. The burning in his stare causes my nipples to pucker tighter. I am tempted to caress them.

But I know he wants them on display. Not played with.

“Can we at least talk about—?”

“The skirt.”

I attempt to step out of my heels when he stops me. Tells me to leave them on.

I unfasten my skirt. Slide it down over my hips, the silk-blend material crumpling around my ankles.

“Take off your bra.” There's a flicker of lust lighting his eyes despite his clipped tone.

“Baby, you have to believe—”

He narrows his gaze, cutting me off again. “You fucked up.” Although his voice is even, ire blazes in his expression. “You understand that, right?”

I nod, eyes wide.

Hurt and disappoint flash in his eyes, then they become blatant flares of anger. He's never been
this
livid—with
me
, ever.

I shift uncomfortably and swallow, unhooking my bra. “Baby, let me—”

“I'm not tryna hear shit you have to say. Not right now.” He reaches behind his back and retrieves a red silk scarf and a leather ball gag.

I choke back a groan as realization dawns. I am going to be gagged. And most likely blindfolded.

I swallow.

Marcel wants me to submit. He wants to have total control. I am to give my self sweetly over to him. Allow him free rein. There will be no pretending. Not tonight. There will be no exceptions. Not tonight. If I am to make this right between us, it will be Marcel's way. And I'll follow his rules. No questions asked. I will cede power, my will, over to him.

Our gazes lock. This unease between us, this temporary divide, is my doing. And. although Marcel won't stay mad for long, I'll need to ride out the storm.

And hope like hell I don't get swept up in it.

I swallow, heart racing.

No. Marcel won't use his anger to lash out at me. But he'll use it to make me never forget.

That he is my man.

That I have truly fucked up and crossed a very dangerous line.

And I'd better think long and hard before ever doing it again.

Despite the thick tension in the air, I grow wet with desire. And knowing.

Obedience. Power. Control.

For as long as Marcel wants it, I am willing to give it to him.

Until he has forgiven me…

He brings his drink to his lips, then takes one big gulp. He sets his glass down onto the table, and my mouth waters as he licks his tongue over his lips. I drink in the sight of him. Suddenly I want nothing more than to have my pussy where his tongue has been. Me melting on his tongue. Me coming all over his mouth.

The thought causes me to groan low.

“Can we please talk about this?”

“You slapped
me
,” he seethes.

“I know,” I whisper. “I'm—”

“You let some random piece of ass get you twisted outta pocket.”

“I know. I—”

He doesn't let me finish. “Your ass is mine tonight, Marika.”

My toes curl in my heels. My pulse quickens. Heat flashes through my ass cheeks.

The message is clear. He is going to fuck me until my ass burns, until tears spring from my eyes, and I am begging him for forgiveness. He's going to fuck me slow and deep until he drains me, wrings me out, and I pass out.

And then when I come to, he is going to fuck me endlessly all over again until I am losing my grip on my own sanity.

Knowing Marcel, if it is the last thing he does tonight, he is going to make me regret ever doubting him, ever questioning his love, ever second-guessing his commitment. Marcel is going to make me wish I'd never allowed jealousy and doubt to edge over me.

“I know,” I mutter, feeling my knees buckle.

When he stands, his long scrumptious dick is rock-hard.

And my panties are sticking to my folds, my sopping wet pussy quivering, my heated flesh quaking with need.