Intoxicated || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 76

Leila's POV

The deep, rhythmic pulse of the unfinished version of Music to Be Murdered By – Side B filled the studio, but my attention wasn't on the music. I was straddling Marshall in the studio chair, my dress hiked up around my waist, his joggers pushed down. What had started as me coming to listen to his almost finished album had quickly taken a different turn. Now, we were fucking against the soundboard, his hands gripping my hips with a desperation that sent sparks through me.

Marshall leaned back slightly, his eyes dark and hungry, following every one of my movements. His hands gripped my hips tightly, guiding me as I rocked against him. Every time I came to the studio, the intensity between us flared—raw, undeniable, impossible to resist.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned, his fingers digging into my thighs as I moved faster, harder. "Every time you're in here, this is what I need."

I smirked, leaning closer, my breath hot against his neck. "You always lose focus when I'm around, don't you?"

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. His hands tightened their grip on me as he pulled me down harder, his lips brushing against my ear. "Not losing focus," he muttered, his voice filled with want. "Just putting it where it belongs."

His eyes flickered down to my chest, watching the way my breasts bounced with every movement. The control he usually held so tightly began to slip. I could feel it in the way his breathing deepened, in the way his grip on me became almost possessive.

I picked up the pace, my body responding to the rising tension between us. The air was heavy, the soft hum of the equipment in the background nothing compared to the sound of our bodies moving together. I loved that I had this effect on him, that the studio—his sanctuary—became something else entirely when I was here.

"Look at you," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "Fuck, you're beautiful."

The words sent a thrill through me, my breath catching as I rocked harder, feeling the pressure build deep inside me. The studio may have been his domain, but with me here, it was different. I knew what I did to him—how much he wanted me, how much I got under his skin.

"I love fucking you in the studio, baby," he growled, his voice low and filled with possession. "You know how much you affect my music? Every single part of it, you're in my head."

I gasped as his words hit me, pushing me closer to the edge. "I had a feeling," I whispered, my breath coming in short bursts as I rode him harder, my body trembling from the tension building inside me.

"Fuck... the way you move, the way you are," he groaned, his grip tightening as he thrust up into me, matching my pace. "It's always you, Leila. You're my muse."

His words sent a shiver through me, making my body tremble as I felt his hands guide me, pulling me closer, faster. The music faded into the background, the only sound now the rhythmic gasps and groans of our bodies moving together.

"I'm close," I whispered, my voice barely audible as I clung to him, feeling the heat between us reach its peak.

Marshall groaned, his breath hot against my neck. "Come for me, baby," he growled, his voice raw and commanding. "I need to feel you."

The tension inside me snapped, pleasue slamming into me wave after wave, at full force. My body shook as I cried out, gripping him tighter as I came. Seconds later, I felt him tense beneath me, his grip on my hips tightening as he spilled into me, his body shuddering with his release.

For a moment, everything outside the studio faded away, and all that mattered was us—wrapped up in each other, our bodies entwined, the faint hum of the speakers barely registering in the background. My chest heaved as I caught my breath, my body still buzzing with the aftermath of it all.

Marshall's hands slid up my back, pulling me closer as he leaned in, brushing his lips against my neck. "You always get to me," he murmured, his voice still rough from the intensity. "Every time."

I smiled, resting my forehead against his. "I know," I whispered, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "And you don't mind, do you?"

He chuckled, his hands still gripping my waist, holding me like he didn't want to let go. "Never," he muttered, his voice low. "I could fuck you like this every damn day."

The track shifted to She Loves Me, and I smiled as his familiar voice echoed through the speakers, playful and teasing. I knew how much of this album was inspired by me, even if he didn't always admit it outright.

"You know," I said softly, running my fingers through his hair, "this song is a little on the nose."

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Yeah? Which part?"

I glanced down at my thigh where the Infinite tattoo was just barely visible under my bunched-up dress. "The tattoo part."

Marshall chuckled, his eyes following my gaze. "I guess that line hit a little too close to home."

I shook my head, smiling. "You think everything's about you."

His smirk widened as his hands slid down to rest on my thighs. "That's because it usually is."

I sighed, leaning against him as the music continued to play. The soft glow of the studio lights and the warmth of his body made everything feel even more intimate. This moment was ours—just the two of us, wrapped in the quiet of the studio, away from the world.

We sat like that for a while, the music playing softly in the background. His hands rested on my back, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over my skin. It was rare for us to find peace in the chaos of everything else, but right here, wrapped up in him, I felt safe.

"I guess the album review can wait," I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He chuckled, pulling me closer. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice low. "I'm not going anywhere."

I smiled, closing my eyes, letting the moment wash over me. The intensity was always there between us—electric, inescapable—but this, this was where we belonged. Wrapped up in each other, with nothing else in the world but us.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, his eyes locking on mine, that familiar fire still burning behind them, though softer now. "I love you," he said, his voice quieter but no less raw.

I leaned in, kissing him softly, savoring the warmth of his words. "I love you too."