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Dark Desires: Sold
    Present day
    “Have you missed me?”
    Marcus’ teeth gleamed like bone in the liquid dark place between her thighs. His predator smile told her she was about to be devoured. While Marguerite still had the ability to think coherently, she returned the question back to him with a twist.
    “Have you missed me while decreasing the world’s population?”
    “I do my part rather well. You would know that if you watched the news. Or read the newspapers. Your phone and laptop get a signal.”
    “And I still don’t care enough to do so.” She rested comfortably on her elbows, enjoying the erotic view. “Answer my question.”
    Marcus traced her bare slit with the tip of his tongue. “You’re tucked away somewhere between one package delivery and another.” He gripped her thighs with smooth, elegant hands before lowering his head.
    Marguerite flung her arms out and fell back against the rumpled sheets. Her delighted giggles bled into soft moans.
    “Don’t tease,” she panted. “Been. . .three months. . .since I saw you last!”
    Marcus turned his head sideways. He spread her pussy open with surgical precision, knowing exactly how much pressure his fingers needed to apply. His full lips closed hard over her clit. Marcus sucked her, slurping loudly before swishing his tongue.
    Marguerite rotated her hips, ravenous to prolong the drugging sensations of Marcus’ dirty, intimate kiss even while eager to end it in a wailing loss of dignity.
    Contradictory fucking. Contradictory living. Fucking living.
    Marcus released her with a lewd smack. He slipped two fingers inside of her and crooked them before sliding both out. Marguerite felt how wet she was and imagined the long, slim digits glistening as a gorgeous result. Marcus placed his marvelous fingers on her clit and rubbed them from side-to-side very quickly. Just as she shuddered on the precipice, Marcus replaced his fingers with his lips and suckled her gently.
    Marguerite’s spine came up off the bed in a violent arch. She cried out, a tormented exuberance bursting from her throat. She loved dying this way. It was absolutely worth living her life of pampered exile if only to have Marcus White make her come on his talented mouth.
    He crawled up, sliding his hands over her pale snow flesh. Marcus waited until she opened her eyes. His lips curled at the damp edges, unrestrained from the mimicry of somber intent.
    “I’ll take that as a yes.”
    ***
    Two years prior
    “What would you do if you had complete freedom?”
    He asked the question in the dubious safety of manufactured shadows and pleather seating.
    Marguerite Grey stirred her drink, considering the wisdom of sharing precious confidences in tawdry environments—even with someone whose given name contained an odd, serendipitous balance with hers.
    That someone being a curious stranger named Marcus White but that someone could be anyone, really, because Marguerite was going to answer that someone honestly. Even so, the plastic straw made a wonderful distraction in their exposed confessional booth.
    “I would go away.”
    “Go where?” The corner of his mouth crept up in a gorgeous imitation smile. She wished hers was half as pretty.
    “Somewhere. Anywhere.”
    “Really? Why?” He propped his chin on his hand, poison-green gaze urging her to taste his dangerous candy.
    “Because I want to disappear from all this.” Marguerite waved a hand above her head as if to swat away the harsh truth buzzing about continuously. Her words spilled out in a disgusted influx. “I’m tired of the world. I’m tired of seeing people and having to pretend I can stand to be in their presence for more than a moment. I don’t fit with the world or maybe the world doesn’t fit with me. Either way I don’t give a shit. I’m just done. Put me on a mountain somewhere alone and I’d be happy.”
    Marguerite waited for him to argue her point of view. She expected him to give her the pat reply of “Well,