Chapter 15
“Watch the bacon for me while I set the table,” she commanded.
It was amazing how easily she fit in the scene of the
kitchenette, rummaging through the drawers for utensils. His heartstrings were pulled and tugged at her
gesture; the hot, homemade breakfast, the sweet forgiveness she’d bestowed upon
him last night, and just the sight of her—casual, relaxed, and not made-up to
the nines because he was Eminem. She was
completely at ease with him—Marshall Mathers.
That meant a lot.
In the world of the rich and famous, one of the most missed
aspects of their old lives was the fact that people didn’t befriend them
because of their celebrity status. The
fact that Vanessa could fit in with both his personalities—the man in public,
the raging paparazzi and speculations, and the passionate, jealous man that he
was at the core. The man who was trying,
desperately, not to care as much as he did about his temporary secretary.
I gotta get a grip, he told himself.
“How long ‘til everything’s ready?” he asked.
“Ten minutes; no, you don’t have time for a shower.”
He laughed. “Hand me the
phone, will you?”
She reached for the phone and handed it to him.
“I’m surprised this thing hasn’t been ringing off the hook.”
“It has been.”
“I haven’t heard it…”
“I turned off the ringer in the bedroom so you could sleep
undisturbed,” she replied nonchalantly.
The woman was surprising him more and more with her subtle
courtesy and kindness.
“Thanks,” Marshall
said.
He dialed the familiar number and waited for someone to pick
up. Hopefully, not… “Hello?”
“Oh, hey, Kim,” he replied a little uneasily. It was slightly uncomfortable to be talking
to his ex-wife while watching his lover make him breakfast. “Can I talk to Hailie?”
“Yeah, hold on.”
“Hi, Daddy!” Hailie said cheerfully. “I misses you!”
“I miss you, too, baby.
How’s my favorite girl?”
He could practically hear her smile. “Super!
When do I get to come visit you in California?”
“Soon, baby,” he cooed.
“How about next week?”
“I gonna ask Mommy, hold on,” Hailie said and paused before she
let out a loud whoop of excitement.
“Yes, she says it’s okie!”
“I can’t wait to see you, tell your mom I’ll call her later
about plane times, okay?”
“Okie.”
“Daddy’s gotta go. I’ll call
you tomorrow, baby.”
“I can’t wait. Bye-bye
Daddy!”
“Bye Hailie,” he said and gave Vanessa the phone.
“Your daughter, right?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“You love her,” she stated.
“She’s all I have,” he said, a plaintive note in his voice.
She placed the various plates on the table and sat herself in
his lap. “You have me for a couple
months,” she reminded him teasingly.
“Yes, I do,” he agreed and ran his hands up her thighs.
“You have to eat,” she whined.
“I didn’t make it all for nothing!”
“Then you shouldn’t have sat in my lap!”
“Can’t resist a little temptation?” she mocked and maneuvered
her body so she straddled his hips.
“Baby, if you keep moving like that—”
“Eat,” she ordered and fed him a piece of bacon.
“You’re pretty pushy,” he
pointed out.
“You know you love it.
The whole growl, feisty angle,” she volleyed back.
He laughed appreciatively.
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
They finished their breakfast, eating and talking—exchanging
barbs and innuendos. Marshall
was startled by how easily she was able to tease him back; how quick she
responded to anything he said. She
didn’t take time to analyze what she was saying; she just let it roll of her
tongue without a second thought. It was
a rare characteristic in the people he surrounded himself with; it was
refreshing to find it in someone who wasn’t famous like him or a friend from
when he was many years younger.
He did what any man did after a fabulous meal—helped clean
up. And then, all his thoughts turned to
dirtying that table.
She had tested his control all morning; it reached its breaking
point as she wiped the wooden table—bent over with her ass high in the air, her
shorts barely concealing her supple skin.
He dropped the soapy sponge in the dirty dishwater, let the plate sink
to the bottom, and moved to press himself against her backside in the barest of
seconds.
“Marshall,” she
gasped.
“I told you, no promises.”
She smirked.
Her smirk gave way to her mouth opening slightly as she felt his
fingers slipping under her shirt to cup her breasts. He tested their weight, his thumb and
forefinger teasing and hardening her nipples to taut points.
“Here?” she croaked.
“Here,” he repeated firmly and felt her press her backside to
him in agreement.
Marshall easily
removed her shirt and began to kiss her exposed back.
“Stop teasing me,” she moaned.
Swiftly, he pushed her shorts off her hips, and let his fingers
manipulate her intimate folds as his free hand lowered his own boxers.
She groaned as she felt his hardness slide against her wetness,
torturing her by the barest touches. In
an effort to relieve some of the tension he’d worked up, she moved against him.
Without warning, he slammed into her, to the hilt, and she
sighed in response. He filled her,
completed her in ways that she’d never felt before—he had scarcely touched her,
and already she was on the brink of ecstasy.
He moved in long, fluid strokes; slipping in and out of her heat surely,
harshly.
She cried out as she lost herself in the heaven he’d taken her
to; her thighs were hitting the edge of the table with their movements, getting
bruised in the process, but she urged him on—pleaded with him to go faster,
harder.
He acquiesced with her demands, grasping her hips in his hands,
forcing her to him and away from him; pounded against her warm flesh
repeatedly, mercilessly. She mewled and
keened as a second wave of pleasure drowned her in sweet sensations. So lost in the feelings, she hardly noticed
him turning her body around to lie against the tabletop. Without hesitance, he slipped into her depths
again, allowed himself to be consumed by her.
She squeezed him, primed him, and caught him by surprise as she thrust
her hips against him and pushed him deeper within her willing body; her body
milked and caressed him.
They lay there, panting, still joined intimately. Reluctantly, he moved away from her slightly,
to give her some more air.
She proceeded to shock him as she sat up, with her thighs far
apart. With a wicked gleam in her eye, Vanessa
ran her fingers against the swollen flesh between her legs. It was tinged pink and wet from both of them.
He groaned as his eyes watched her lick her fingers; he didn’t
think that there had ever been a more erotic scene than her tongue savoring the
taste of their product of passion.
“Marshall,” she
drawled seductively. “We taste so good.”
He was gone—it was a mess of lightning and thunder as he pulled
her into his lap, forced her to accept his intrusion in one fluid movement.
They both half-moaned, half-sighed, as the ascension to the
precipice of delicious torment began anew.
Chapter 16