Chapter 78

“Marc!” Felicity gasped.

“Shhh,” Marc hushed her, catching the busty blonde’s hands as she reached to touch his bruised ribs. “It’s fine.”

“No, it is certainly not fine,” Felicity said, shooting him a concerned look with her brow furrowed tightly. She was utterly adorable, giving him that look, but he knew that she was more than just an adorable face.

“There were some ... issues at the poker event,” Marc said. “Issues that I had to handle.”

“She got you into a fight?” Felicity scowled.

“To be fair, ma petite fée, the fight was not her fault.” Marc let go of Felicity’s wrists and carefully guided her hand to the bruising, letting her press her hand against it. They were supposed to go out for dinner and then come back to his apartment for their usual fun, but Marc had decided that after the events of Saturday evening, and the long day of work recovering, he would order in instead. “The Detective was, in fact, quite cross with me for feeling that I needed to handle the issue instead of letting her handle the man in question.”

“Oh, Marc,” Felicity sighed, feeling the warmth of the bruise and looking into his eyes. “Chivalry never died, it just took a trip to France and decided to stay there for a while, didn’t it?”

Marc smirked a little. “Chivalry was born in France, ma petite fée. Somehow the English have convinced the world that they were the birthplace of knights, just like so many other things.”

“Lay on the couch,” she ordered, moving her hands up to start stripping his dress shirt off the rest of the way. She’d been waiting for him when he got home from work, having let herself in, and had been working on her thesis until she had put it aside as soon as he’d entered. It had been the wince of pain as she hugged and kissed him that had tipped her off.

Marc sighed, but let her boss him around as she stripped him down to his briefs and then had him lay down. Sometimes a little role reversal, in small ways, only highlighted their desired roles when they flipped back.

Felicity didn’t remain clothed for long. She quickly stripped off her knit sweater to reveal her wonderful curves and the bright red lingerie bra that was managing to contain her bust. Her tight jeans went next, revealing the matching panties. He’d bought them for her a year ago - at this point, her entire underwear drawer at home and at his apartment were entirely Marc-purchased lingerie. Properly attired, she sauntered to the kitchen, knowing he would be watching her ass, and pulled out the jar of coconut oil and came back with it. She mounted him carefully, settling her butt down on his thighs, and then ran her hands up his back.

“If it had been me there, instead of the Detective,” she murmured. “What would have happened?”

“I don’t know if anything would have been different,” Marc said. “Not the way the events occurred.”