Marco X Jean Novels & Stories

His hands were still tight on the steering wheel, knuckles white like maybe he was bracing for impact—just not with my car this time. I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Jesus, man. You tryna kill me or just my car?” He blinked up at me, flushed with that stupid grin that was both charming and infuriating. “Okay, I definitely have no money to pay for that.” He climbed out of the car, finally, and I gave him the once-over without meaning to. Old habits. Marco could dress like he owned a mirror and a gym membership—tight black jeans hugging those dancer legs, a cropped hoodie that barely covered the hem of his fitted shirt underneath, and sneakers that looked too clean for a guy with such reckless dr

She grimaced and smiled, why was she not surprised? Then Ajax broke the silence again. “Marquess, why are you wearing expensive clothes again? Someone might kidnap you because of what you’re wearing. Hold-ups are common here, they might strip you and you’ll end up on TV.” The Marquess looked down at his clothes. “What’s wrong with my clothes? It’s just a shirt and jeans.” Isis answered. “Really? Just a shirt and jeans? Marquess, that shirt costs four hundred thousand dollars, and the jeans are Gucci. Not to mention your expensive Gucci sandals.”

"So what if you have money? With a husband as ugly as yours, I bet you can't even eat properly every day. Do you have nightmares at night? Poor Jules. You will have to face an eyesore every single day. It is bound to shave years off your life..." She suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Her face filled with amazement as she stared toward the entrance of the boutique. Following her gaze, I looked up. Marco strode in wearing a khaki trench coat, every step confident and effortless. He was so strikingly handsome, like a runway model walking straight off the catwalk.

With a grin of victory for the moment, I walked away to check if everything is in order. Marco arrived and he has always looked handsome as ever, even better. He wore a black suit and had a handkerchief in his suit pocket to match Giorgia's blue dress. He didn't wear a tie and had two buttons of his white inner shirt open. His hair was well in place, gelled to the back and in general he just looked perfect, he is perfect, my perfect boy.

Vincent said calmly, heart racing. Jaxon had called him Vin. Ryu surprisingly went quiet. "Oh!" Jaxon smirked. They arrived at the mall. Jaxon and Ryu pulled on face caps to avoid fans. They split up, but Ryu and Vincent stuck together. Jaxon wandered into the men's designer underwear section, eyes lighting up at his favorites: indigo shiny waist chains and a sleek black lace jockstrap. He's obsessed with the way they frame and tease—subtle chains that glint under lights, the jockstrap hugging just right.

I still couldn’t risk losing her to Colin. Marco returned to his closet and pulled out a charcoal jacket and a soft blue shirt. “Try these.” “I have my own clothes.” “That wasn’t a request, Nolan,” he said. “Put them on.” I took the jacket and shirt to humor him and changed quickly. The fabric fit cleanly across my shoulders without the usual stiffness. When I stepped back into the room, Marco looked me over with a critical eye, then nodded. “Better,” he said. “You look like a man trying to enjoy the night instead of preparing for war.”

When he turns in his seat to look, his light brown eyes brighten and he holds his hands over his heart. “Amiga?” With Musu’s help, Marco stands up to his full height, towering over everyone else. He has a wool peacoat draped over his shoulders with a black beanie hat covering his head. Beneath, he is wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with a military emblem on it. He takes the Musu’s hand to help support him so he can walk toward us. He looks much older than his twenty-six years.

Shit, I wanted to run my tongue all over that place. I noticed the dark marks on his right shoulder and that they reached down to his chest. But instead of a burn, it looked more like a birthmark. “Marky...” I breathed excited as I watched as he finished undressing and got into the hot tub and sat next to me. “Tell me, Livie.” he smirked as he pulled me towards him, leaning my back against his chest. “Marvelous body you built overnight.” He started to laugh and it didn't take long for me to join him.

--- MARCO’S PENTHOUSE Alecia stood in front of the mirror, turning slightly as she admired herself in the shiny familiar dress. A slow smile curled at her lips, and she twirled, watching the fabric swirl around her. It did fit her. She giggled to herself amusingly. Behind her, Marco was adjusting his own attire, fastening the last button on his jacket. He glanced at her reflection, brow furrowing. “What’s so funny?” She stilled, then shook her head with a small, knowing smile. “Nothing…i'm going to be lucky tonight.”

But not the Maria I’d expected. She was still faultlessly turned out. Her dinner jacket — a man’s — was cut like a dream. Her leather jeans were soft, gleaming and fitted like a second skin. Her shirt was as pristine as the ones she wore for work, but made of silk crepe, open almost to the waist, and revealing just as white and dazzling in its long inviting vee.