Game of Chance
Chapter 3
“Did you really miss me?” he asked while caressing her arm.
They laid on the king-sized bed; her head propped up by her hand, and her smooth legs tangled with his rougher ones.
She stared at him for a moment before smiling devilishly. “I missed your cock,” she replied confidently and slid her hand on his hard thigh.
“Damn it, woman! A man needs to rest!”
She laughed. “I don’t recall resting at all last time!”
He pulled her delicate form onto his body. They shivered at the feeling of their bare chests meshing together.
“I thought you needed to rest!” she teased as she felt him hardening between her creamy thighs.
“I think we’ve wasted enough time already,” he replied.
Marshall kissed her soundly as he entered her slowly, almost gently. Reflexively, Contessa’s inner muscles contracted around the intrusion, squeezed him, and taunted him effectively. He moaned as she rolled her hips seductively, capturing his full attention.
Foregoing gentle, he grasped her hips in his hands and manipulated her body up and down, forwards and backwards, inside and out, as she rode against him.
//
“Fuckin’… I just can’t seem to go slow with you!”
“I’m not complainin’,” she replied with a smile.
She rested on top of his chest, their bodies still intertwined—him still inside her, spent but kept hostage at the apex of her thighs.
His arms moved to shift her off of him, but she gave him a look that stopped him momentarily.
“I think I rather like having you inside me. Don’t mind me, I’m just going to lay here…with that gorgeous cock.”
He groaned.
This girl was going to be the death of him. If not out of want, surely by her tantalizing words.
//
After hours of sharing, tasting, and teasing, they laid in bed, spooned against each other. Marshall managed to coax himself out of her warmth, much to her chagrin, but he held her close to him with one arm draped over her side and his finger drew idle patterns on her stomach and breasts.
“That tickles!” she giggled as his hand skimmed her bare arm.
He smiled lazily.
“I hope you aren’t hoping for another round already! I’m worn out!”
Marshall laughed lightly. “No, baby, I think I’ll give you an hour or two to rest up before the next time.”
“Oh, thanks for your kindness, sir,” she replied sarcastically.
He kissed her shoulder in response.
//
“Oh, shit—” Contessa said loudly.
“Hm, what?” he asked, confused.
“Can I use your phone?”
“Sure, it’s right next to you.”
“Wow, really?” she gave him an annoyed look.
He quirked his eyebrow.
“Hey, Stella?”
“Shit, girl, it’s one am! What the hell are you doin’ callin’ me?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay—I, uh, left with Marshall…”
“I kinda figured that. You at his hotel?”
“Yeah.”
Contessa could hear the amused laughter coming over the line. “I bet I know what you two have been doing all night!”
She blushed slightly. “Nothin’ you wouldn’t do! Marshall, quit that!” she admonished as she felt his lips take one of her nipples into his mouth.
“What is the boy doing, hmm?”
“Nothin’! Damn it—Stella, I gotta go!”
Contessa groaned as she hung up the phone with Stella’s mirth booming in her ears.
“Look at you, you’re like an octopus! As soon as I turn my back, you’ve got your hands all over the place!”
“Is there a problem with that?” he grinned as he lowered his mouth and continued his journey downwards.
“Umm, keep that up, and I’ll tell you eventually…”
//
As the morning hours crept in, the pair faded into a dreamless summer—their haunting dreams now fulfilled.
Marshall groaned sleepily as the phone rang shrilly with his morning wakeup call. Contessa nearly jumped out of her skin from the abrupt awakening.
“What the fuck is that!” she yelped.
Without thinking clearly, she snatched the phone off its cradle. “What the hell do you want?” she growled.
“Uh, excuse me…miss, but Mr. Mathers requested his wakeup call promptly at eight am!”
“Oh, uh, sorry,” she replied sheepishly. “I’ll tell him.”
Marshall covered his face in his hands as he could just imagine how she was going to tell him—
“Why?” she yelled. “Eight am? Are you nuts?”
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t expect to run into you last night. I was gonna call you today or somethin’…”
“Oh, okay. I’m not really…upset. Just disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” he asked bewildered.
“I wanted to wake you up myself!”
“Oh?”
“Uh huh.”
“How were you gonna do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’ll just have to fall asleep again to see what I was plannin’ on doing!”
“Tease!”
“Not with you, darling! It’s a promise!”
//
“I gotta meet Curtis for breakfast.”
“Breakfast?”
“Yeah—he doesn’t really give off the impression that he’s a morning person, but he’s up by six usually. This is late to him. Shit, he’s like, ‘Marshall, you lazy bones, you sleep til’ fuckin’ one pm’. Do you want me to get some clothes sent up here for you so you can join us?”
“Um, yes, please.”
“Let me call concierge…” his voice trailed off as he started talking to the hotel manager. “What’s your size?”
“Eight. Just ask them to send up a tank top and skirt. That way it’ll fit.”
//
She twirled for him, modeling her new outfit.
“You’re not leaving this room with that on!”
“Oh, c’mon!”
“Every man with eyes is going to be looking at you!”
She grinned. “It’s not my fault their sizes run a little small! Besides, just be lucky I didn’t wear a push-up bra!” With a cheeky smile, she pushed her breasts up and together, imitating the push-up effect.
“I’d have to handcuff you to the bed—” he growled.
“Well, if you’re really going to be like that… give me one of your jackets.”
//
“Good morning, Curtis,” she said as they were seated.
“Hey. I see my boy Marshall came to his senses!”
“Shut up,” Marshall replied with a warning.
“Oh, yes, I think he did,” she grinned with Curtis, completely ignoring the agitation written on Marshall’s face.
“Isn’t that Marsh’s jacket?”
“Yep. He didn’t want me showing off my goodies.”
Curtis laughed appreciatively.
Chapter 4
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.