Game of Chance
Chapter 11
“So, you live all alone in this big ol’ house?” she asked as propped herself on her elbow.
“Not really.”
“Who else is here?”
“Nobody. I’m usually not here.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, oh. I travel a lot, and when I’m in production, I practically live at the studio—sometimes I even sleep there.”
“You’re very dedicated,” she replied shyly.
“Music’s the one thing that hasn’t let me down,” he said solemnly.
“That’s sort of depressing, Marsh.”
“Ah, but true.”
“I haven’t let you down yet,” she teased.
“Yet!”
“Oh, pssh. We’ll just have to wait and see, hmm?”
“Uh huh. But in the mean time—”
She giggled. “Marshall, three times wasn’t enough?”
“I could have you forever, and it still wouldn’t be enough,” he growled and cut off her response with a ferocious kiss.
//
“Oh, god, I love when you do that,” she moaned and pressed his head firmly to her breast.
His tongue erotically stimulated her nipple into a hardened peak, and his free hand cupped the neglected breast, feeling the weight and heat emanating from it.
“I love your tits,” he said thoughtfully.
“Why?” she asked with a grin. “’Cause they’re big?”
“That…and they’re so soft,” he murmured.
//
“Hold on—” Marshall grumbled to Contessa as he heard the phone ring.
“Don’t pick it up, damn it!” she admonished.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re in the middle of fucking me, thank you very much!” she grunted and rolled her hips to emphasize her point—or his, as the case was.
“Fuck,” he moaned and ignored the shrill sound of the phone’s ring.
They moved in a sinuous fashion; their muscles corded, taut, and coiled tightly with building tension, just ready to unwind and snap them into oblivion. Her nails clawed against his back, leaving scratch marks in their wake. The intensity of Marshall’s need was tangible; the fierce strength he was exhibiting with his hands securely locked around her hips, urging her closer and him deeper simultaneously.
They began their climb; that proverbial escalation to absolution—
“Who the fuck is calling again?” she screamed.
“Let me answer it? It could be an emergency—”
“It better be, otherwise I’m going to die out of frustration!”
//
“Marshall! Why the fuck don’t you pick your phone?” Kim yelled.
“Shit—now’s not the time!” Marshall responded harshly.
“And why not?”
Contessa knew who it was and deliberately lifted her hips to deepen his penetration; the sharp movement caused Marshall’s eyes to bulge and his voice to quaver.
“Don’t call me, I’ll call you!” he said curtly and slammed the phone down—and into her.
//
“How the hell did you know it was Kim?” he asked after they’d both come down from their pleasant plateau.
“The way your cock got a little limp,” she smirked.
“I’ll have you—”
“I like knowing that Kim’s a turn off,” she added. “And that with just a twist of my hips, I have you hard and ready to go again—”
“Bitch,” he teased.
“You know it!”
//
“Do we have to get up?” she whined.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “Don’t pout at me. It’s noon!”
“You kept me up all night!” she reminded him.
“I was up right along with you, if you hadn’t noticed!”
“So, why aren’t you tired?”
“’Cause I’m too excited. C’mon, I wanna do somethin’ for you. Kinda show you somethin’.”
“What?”
“It’s a surprise. I ain’t gonna tell you.”
“What if—”
“Don’t even try it!” he said sharply. “You can tease me all you want, and I won’t break.”
“Oh, really?” she replied in disbelief.
“Really!”
//
“Ready to break yet?” Contessa asked.
Marshall couldn’t answer—his attention was solely focused on her thin fingers plunging in and out of her depths, three, four at a time. He watched her arch her back; the action forcing her breasts high in the air. He’d chosen a chair a few feet away from the bed, but he was having serious trouble keeping himself confined in that chair and not burying his own fingers inside her warmth.
“No,” he stuttered.
“What about now?”
She gradually withdrew her fingers, only to bring them to her mouth and suck lightly on each one. “You know what I wish I had?”
He was afraid to ask. “What?”
“A nice, thick cock.”
He groaned.
“Well, yours, specifically. I can’t decide what I’d do with it first, though. Maybe you could help?”
With great effort, he shook his head.
“I love the taste when you come…but I love the feeling of you explode inside me. It’s all hot and, um,” she moaned. “Look, Marshall, I’m so wet.”
He had to turn away.
But he found his eyes glued to her.
“I’m so ready—you could just pound away, and I’d love every second of it. Oh, god, Marshall—I wish…”
“You wish what?” he growled, standing above her.
“That you’d give me your cock…right now.”
Her body lifted as he pushed within her depths—he had already unfastened his pants before she’d finished her wish—and he let her walls clench around him, her heat consume him.
“Oh, Marshall,” she sighed.
//
“So, tell me where you’re takin’ me!”
“No!”
“I let you fuck me—”
He kissed her. “Baby, you begged me to fuck you.”
“So?” she blushed.
“So, do it more often. But I’m still not telling you.”
Chapter 12
Author: zines@aol.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.