Game of Chance

Chapter 20

“What’s wrong with you?” Marshall asked as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Huh?”

“You’re too good to be true,” he murmured.

She laughed.  “Stop that, you’re a liar.  You hated me just a few weeks ago,” she reminded him.

“I didn’t hate you.  I just…hated you.”

“Oh, don’t be modest, Marsh.  You hated that I was right.  That’s all.”

“Fine,” he conceded.  “I didn’t know you were going to be so damned…motherly.”

“Motherly?” she coughed.

“Christ, you fixed us dinner.  A home cooked dinner!  Shit, I didn’t think Hailie even knew what real food was—shit that wasn’t from the box, I mean.”

“Marshall,” she started with a blush, “It was hardly a gourmet meal.  It was lasagna.”

“From scratch.”

“Still,” she replied, not willing to hedge.  “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me…to Hailie.”

//

She giggled when she felt Marshall’s tongue nibbling her neck.

“Shh,” he commanded.  “We don’t want to wake Hailie up.”

Contessa nodded once but found being silent nearly impossible when his fingers trailed along the edge of her thighs.

“No panties,” he remarked and a huge grin broke out on his face with the discovery.

“I knew you were coming,” she replied softly.

“We’ll both be doing that in a minute,” he chuckled and kissed her fully, deeply, with tongue and passion.

//

“Oh, Marshall,” she whispered in a tight voice; he was driving her absolutely and divinely insane.

“Yes?” he looked up from between her breasts.  “Did you want me to stop?”

“If you stopped, I would kill you,” she said in a deadly tone.

He laughed lightly and bent down to capture one of her hardened nipples with his mouth.  With his unoccupied hand, he used it to cup her full breast in his hands, gently squeezing and caressing the sensitive skin.

Her fingers were buried in his short locks, pressing the back of his head further into her bosom.

“Marshall, please—”

“Please, what?”

“Please stop teasing me and fuck me already,” she growled and rolled her hips beneath him.

“Impatient?”

“Yes!”

“Well, if that’s the way you want—”

“Yes, yes, it is.  You’re killing me,” she whined.

Marshall looked at her pouting lips and flushed cheeks before he moved to slide under her to reverse their positions.

She was slightly startled, but she quickly recovered and felt his hardness brushing between her thighs.  Sparing no more time, Marshall’s hands moved to her hips and helped her sink down.  They both sighed and gasped simultaneously; the intimate contact overwhelming and breathtaking.

“Oh, god,” he groaned nearly inaudibly.

“Uh huh,” she nodded and gently began to move above him.

As their passion escalated, so did their pace until they were frenzied and desperate to find oblivion—she gave and he took, he pushed and she brought him further into her depths only to move and release him for mere seconds—only the time until she could envelope his length into her heat once more.

Marshall watched through hooded eyelids as she writhed and shattered in front of him; he felt himself explode within her as he was enthralled by the beads of sweat on her swaying breasts, the soft, breathy moans she emitted with every thrust.

“Marshall,” she murmured as she collapsed onto his chest.

//

He didn’t know how long he held her to him, sticky with sweat, intimately connected, and feeling their mixed pleasure trickle down her thighs, but he had no intentions of letting her leave.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you more.  And I missed this,” she grinned and twisted her hips slightly.

“Oh, did you?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Good, because I missed doing this,” he replied and pulled her up into his lap.  With a smile of satisfaction, he bent his head and captured her lips in a searing kiss.  “And this,” he added as his hands cupped her bottom, kneading the flesh.  “But you know what I really missed?”

“What?” she asked curiously, already hot in anticipation.

“This,” he replied and thrust deeply into her once again; he lifted her lithe body so he could watch as her body took him in and let him out.

//

“Wake up,” Marshall said, nudging his bed partner.

“Umm…”

“Contessa,” he said a little more loudly.

Hearing no answer, Marshall’s fingers caressed her stomach, trailed down her thigh, and then pushed between her depths.  He watched her attentively—her eyes hadn’t fluttered open, but her mouth had parted slightly and her breathing turned ragged.  Her hips moved against his intruding fingers in an effort to coax them into moving and tantalizing her further.

He felt himself harden at her involuntary response; she was melting and writhing against his hand as she slept.  Unable to help himself, he brought his lips to hers and kissed her roughly, fiercely, and in the process, woke her up.

“Oh, Marshall,” she said softly.  “You’re bad!” she muttered as she realized she wasn’t dreaming.

He grinned.

“What a way to wake up, though,” she replied dreamily.

“Contessa,” he breathed harshly.

“I know, baby,” she replied and moved under him.

Marshall drove quickly into her wetness; she had driven him insane so easily—he was running on pure, palpable need.  And she was loving every ruthless thrust he gave her.  Her hips twisted and moved with him, encouraging their rhythm towards a more furious pace until they exploded together, finding themselves scattered among colors and stars.

“Good morning,” she murmured.

“Uh huh.  Good morning indeed.”

Chapter 21

Author: zines@aol.com

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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.