Kisses and Lies

Marcus nods and opens the truck door. Breathing a sigh of relief, I follow him. He lets me lead the way to my front door with him close behind until we’re inside. His eyes scan my house, the living room is part of an open space and we walk into it. He looks directly at my black leather couches and then the television hanging on the wall. Just past the couches is my kitchen, which I really need to clean.

“Undress,” he directs.

I turn to face him as my eyebrows pull together.

Marcus shows no sign of waiting, and my nerves all of a sudden take flight through the roof at his one-word command.

“How about a drink?” I ask as I walk to the kitchen.

“No. Undress, Rochelle.”

My hand touches my kitchen bench, and my heart takes off at a speed my body can’t keep up with, making me dizzy. Not looking his way, I blink a few times to bring me back into the now and reach for my top, pulling it over my head. Then I proceed to drop my pants, my hands shaking as they pool on the floor. Before I can turn around to see where Marcus is, I feel his front pressed against my back, his cock coming to rest at the top of my ass as he stands there touching me. He reaches for my hair, brushing it away from my shoulders.

“I will ruin you.” He breathes the words on my neck. His tongue darts out and touches me, sending a shiver I didn’t know I was capable of spreading out all over my body.

What am I doing?

“I want you to ruin me,” I say back to him.

“You don’t want to be ruined by me, pretty girl.” His breath is hot as he rains kisses on my neck, and then he disappears, leaving me cold in his wake. “Go and lay on your bed, naked.”

Turning around to face him, when I look at him again, I have to remember to breathe. His eyes are slightly slanted, broody, as they penetrate through every fiber of my being. His dark shirt and broad shoulders stand tall, taking me in.

Marcus makes a clicking sound with his tongue, and I manage to move in the direction of my bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I remove the rest of my clothing, then lay down on my bed. As I do, I hear the click of a door, so I wait.

And wait.

With each breath, I am dying with anticipation more than the last.

And then nothing.

My breathing returns to normal and my hands, which were shaky, are now steady.

“Marcus.” I look up and don’t see him.

Getting off the bed, I walk down the hall and see he isn’t in my house anymore.

He’s gone.

Chapter Four

Rochelle

Marcus plays on my mind. I know nothing about him, but somehow, he consumes my every thought. To an extent, it makes me wonder if I’m normal. Or is it my depression that’s causing me to feel this way? Losing two people who I loved dearly, am I clinging on to anything right now in the hopes of feeling that type of unconditional love again?

Maybe clinging to a man I don’t know isn’t healthy.

The week goes by fast, and I make a decision to go back to work. My work consists of being employed by a man who smells most of the time, and the smell is not pleasant, but he pays well, hence the reason I stay there. Being a lawyer’s receptionist isn’t my idea of great employment, but it pays the bills, and I don’t dislike it every day. Just some days. Like today. I want to go home. I’m tired. So fucking tired.

“Rochelle, you filed those forms?” Martin is scratching his head as he walks past me. He stops when I don’t answer and pivots to look at me. “Rochelle…” he says my name, gaining my attention.

I look up and sigh. “Yes. Filed and ready for when you need them.”

“Okay, good. I guess you can go.” Martin resumes scratching and continues to walk off. I gather my things and head to my parents’ house. I’ve been avoiding my mother all week, and now I can’t do that any longer. It’s her birthday today, so I have to see her. My father has already called and messaged me three times to make sure I’m coming.

As I drive to their house, I consider bypassing the crematorium, which I’ve been avoiding all week, thinking it will help. But as I drive by, I see his truck in the exact same area it was the last two times I was there. My heart rate picks up, and I have to tell myself, ‘do not turn in, you don’t need to see him.’

Marcus knows where I live, but I haven’t heard from him.

And believe me, I want to hear from him.