I have about half of his length inside me now and I’m on a mission to swallow all of him up.

  From the little jerks of his hips and his fist in my hair and his constant chants of fuck, Zach would love that.

  Just as I’m about to try for it though, he pulls me away. He tugs on my hair and tilts my neck up and stares down at my face.

  “You’ve made a mess, Blue,” he says roughly, as his gaze moves over my lips and his thumb flicks at the corners of it.

  “You asked for it,” I whisper.

  “I did.”

  “But I’m not done yet.”

  “No?”

  “I think I missed a few spots. I need to be thorough,” I breathe. “Besides, I-I’m still hungry. I still need to suck and suck and suck until I find what I’m looking for.”

  I reach up and sweep a few strands of his hair away from his sweat-beaded forehead.

  He almost leans into my soft touch and my heart squeezes. But a second later, he’s back with his harsh, mean tone. “And what’s that?”

  I softly kiss his jaw and whisper, “The creamy center of your lollipop.”

  I blush at saying something so out-of-this-world dirty and he growls.

  Still growling, he presses a hard – the hardest ever – kiss on my mouth. “Bedroom.”

  A dark thrill courses through me at his tone.

  “Now,” he orders when I simply keep looking at him and don’t move fast enough for his liking.

  I stand up on shaky legs and Zach kisses me again. Still kissing, we make our way to my bedroom.

  Somehow, we land on my bed.

  Zach attacks my shorts, opening the buttons and shoving them down my legs, along with my panties. It’s so frantic and desperate that I don’t even think to ask him about his intentions. I kick them off and he maneuvers me over him.

  He’s lying on the bed as he spins me around until my mouth’s on his cock and his is in my drenched and bare core.

  Finally, the words blurt out of me. “What’re you doing?”

  “Need your pussy on my face while you’re sucking me off,” he mutters.

  His words alone cause a mini-orgasm in me and I fall on the bed, on my elbows, my wild blue hair making a curtain around my lips and his cock.

  Two things that are made for each other.

  Then he takes a long, greedy swipe of my pussy and I lose my mind.

  I burn and the only way to soothe it is to wrap my naked lips around his cock again.

  Oh God, this is sixty-nine, isn’t it?

  Why does it make me feel so fucking dirty and turned on at the same time?

  My sucks stutter when I feel his fingers rubbing up my wet slit.

  It makes me moan, those blunt fingers playing with me while I’m giving him head. My nails dig into his thighs and my breasts press into his flexing stomach as I come up for air before putting him back in my mouth, trying to take him in even further.

  “You’re so wet, baby,” he groans over me. “And you shaved for me, didn’t you?”

  My answer is to moan around his shaft because yes, I did. Besides putting on a tight t-shirt and short shorts, I shaved down there.

  Maybe I wanted this to happen. I wanted him to lick me and finger me while being sprawled on him like this.

  His hips are moving slightly. Not too much but just enough that I have to loosen my mouth and let him have his way. I jerk when I feel his fingers over the seam of my ass.

  “I told you next time I’ll stick a finger up there, remember?”

  I moan again, and writhe my ass in the air, inviting him.

  His chuckle is pained. “But I lied.”

  I bite him lightly for that comment.

  He chuckles again. “I’m not only going to finger your ass, Blue. I’m also going to stick it up your pussy.”

  I gasp and almost dislodge his dick from my lips.

  His words are slurred and halting like he’s losing all control. His thighs are clenched up tight and I think he’s going to come.

  And I think if he does what he promised to do, I’ll come with him.

  I prepare myself for the invasion but I guess I’m so wet that I don’t feel the pained impact when he inserts his thumb in my pussy. I feel a slight pressure and a little stretch when he moves it around a bit but it’s not bad.

  Not at all.

  It’s so fucking good.

  The moment he slides that wet, lubed-up thumb over the crease of my ass and circles my pleated hole, I feel his cock spurting pre-cum on my tongue.

  He emits a long grunt that reverberates through me, down to my toes.

  Just as I come up for air, Zach slides his thumb inside my ass and I moan over the head of his dick. It jerks on my tongue and I latch on to it and suck on it like it’s my job.

  It feels weird and new and painfully erotic, his thumb in my ass.

  But he doesn’t stop there. He slides a long finger inside my pussy, which apparently goes pretty easily, and I almost swallow up his dick, sobbing over it.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Goddamn, Blue.”

  I feel him moving his fingers inside me, inside both my holes, and the pressure starts building. I know I’m close. I know he’s close too.

  “I can feel it, baby,” he pants. “I can feel your cherry. It’s there. It’s tiny and it won’t let me get through. Feels like it’s taunting me.”

  The last part of his speech is less words and more grunts.

  You should bust it then. Tear it open so you can get in.

  Just as that thought flashes through my mind all bright and shiny like a star, I come.

  I spasm around his fingers and that makes his shaft jerk inside my mouth. I let his head go and peek out my tongue so he can come on it like I’m coming on his fingers.

  The tightness and convulsions of his body match mine. And so do our noises. Probably our heartbeats match too, in this moment.

  I drink him down all the while he’s milking me. His taste is just as I imagined it to be. Musky and spicy and him.

  So fucking him.

  So fucking Zach.

  The guy I belong to. The guy who thinks I’m his prize.

  Somehow, he also feels like the guy I should give everything to. Even my virginity.

  I’m dying.

  Or at least, it feels like it. The pain is so intense and it came on so suddenly that I can’t breathe.

  I’m at the threshold of the kitchen, trying to catch a glimpse of Zach because I know he comes in for breakfast in the mornings, just after his workout.

  We’ve shared a few meals that way. All he does is stare at me and all I do is talk up a storm with Maggie and try not to blush.

  But this morning, he’s not alone.

  His hair’s sweaty and delicious and he has his vest-type t-shirt on and there’s a bowl of something sweet in front of him. I don’t have the time to check out what it might be because I’m busy staring at him with Leslie.

  It’s not a secret that after Zach helped Art, he’s everyone’s favorite. The cooking staff can’t wait to serve him. The girls can’t stop eyeing him and giggling and gossiping about the magnificence of his body and that face and that smirk and how strong he is. His workouts by the pool are pretty famous too.

  Leslie is doing what all other girls on the staff do. She’s giggling and leaning toward him with her hip cocked out. Maggie’s chuckling too, where she stands by the counter, close enough to be included in the conversation.

  And Zach?

  He’s smirking up at her.

  He’s so freaking involved with whatever their conversation is that he hasn’t even touched his food. He’s absorbed in Leslie and her smiles and the way she’s playing with her blonde braid. It looks like there’s something between them. Like they know each other.

  Like she knows all his secrets and struggles. She knows about his reading. She knows that the more he reads, the better he gets, and when I tell him this, his face closes up.

  I haven’t been able to understand that. Why wouldn’t he be happy to see the progress he’s making? Why wouldn’t he want me to compliment him and flush with pleasure every time he reads a phrase correctly without confusing the letters?

  Sometimes I think it’s shame. He’s embarrassed and angry to be making progress. Which is so weird that I think maybe I’m imagining things.

  And every time his expression becomes cagey, I know what comes next. His kisses and his hands.

  Jesus, his hands are always so desperate and horny, on the verge of tearing my clothes off so he can get to my bare skin. To my breasts, my thighs, my pussy. As if he needs it all like he needs the air. As if he needs to make me come and he needs to come himself while I’m spasming in his arms. And all I can do is give in to him.

  Why wouldn’t I?

  I’m his prize, right?

  Except, maybe those are simply words.

  Maybe he says them to everyone. Maybe he said it to Leslie, the girl he’s been flirting with so openly while he sneaks into my cottage like a thief.

  It’s crazy, I know. I was the one who wanted all the secrecy, even if I forgot to plan for it. He’s just adhering to my wishes.

  Never looking at each other if we ever pass by in the hallways. Not talking while having breakfast. Never saying a word to each other if I accidentally come upon him by the pool and he’s out there, either working out or swimming.

  It’s me. I set the rules and Zach’s been so careful about protecting me and this stupid job.

  I realize that I don’t like it.

  I don’t like the necessary secrecy and that he’s touching someone else. I don’t like that he’s too engrossed in her to notice me.

  A sound rises in my throat, a mixture of a gasp and maybe a hiccup. A sad, jealous hiccup and somehow, it reaches him.

  Zach lifts his eyes and looks straight at me. His lips part and my own purse.

  Leslie notices that she doesn’t have his attention anymore, so she turns around and, finding me there, she beams.

  Her smile is so enthusiastic that I can’t even hate her for being close to what I want.

  “Hey, Cleo. Come on in,” she chirps.

  “Ah, finally you’re here. Come, I made the English custard again.” Maggie smiles fondly at Zach. “It’s Master Zach’s favorite.”

  English custard.

  I smile slightly at both of them before turning back to Zach. He’s sitting there rigid, his jaw clenched in that angry, mean way of his.

  What does he have to be angry about? I’m the one who’s feeling betrayed.

  “It’s okay,” I say, keeping my eyes on him. “If it’s… Mr. Prince’s favorite, then he should have all of it.”

  With that, I spin around and get out of there.

  I’m in such a hurry that I bump into someone at the end of the hallway. It’s Ryan.

  He steadies me with his hands on my shoulders. “You okay?”

  His gentle voice makes me want to cry but I hold on. “Yeah. Sorry. I should stop doing that to you.”

  Chuckling, he says, “I don’t mind.”

  “How are you?” I ask, studying his handsome face.

  He has always made me feel safe. Always.

  And now that I look at him, I realize that maybe I wasn’t made for safe. Safe does nothing for me. I wasn’t made to be handled with gentle fingers and soft touches.

  Maybe I was made for rough strokes, pulling hands and harsh stares.

  “Good. You?” He frowns. “Is everything okay?”

  I nod. “Uh-huh. I’m just, you know? Rough day.”

  “It hasn’t even started yet.”

  I chuckle sadly. “I know. It’s just going to be one of those days.”

  Nodding, he begins, “Listen, I, uh, wanted to tell you. I guess you already know though, since Tina’s your friend and –”

  I thrust up my hand to make him stop. “It’s okay. I know. Tina told me you guys are going out Saturday and that’s awesome. Really.”

  Tina took my advice and asked Ryan out on a date. I think he was shocked. She said he didn’t say anything for about ten seconds as he kept staring at her.

  I bet it was because he was staring at her with new eyes.

  “You sure? I feel like such a, I don’t know, a player or something.”

  I laugh loudly at that and bump my shoulder against his chest. “You are not a player. Not at all. You’re one of the most decent guys I know, Ryan. In fact, you’re the most decent guy I know. So no, I don’t think that at all. I just hope you guys have a good time.”

  He smiles; grins, actually. “Okay.”

  I can see it in his eyes that he’s really looking forward to it. As much as Tina.

  “Okay.” I nod and step back from his embrace.

  Ryan bends down and kisses me on the forehead. It’s a brotherly kiss. I can’t believe we ever wanted to go out. Maybe that’s why we kept putting it off, subconsciously. Our being busy and not finding the time might have been a sign in the first place.

  Just as he leaves, I feel a prickling sensation in the back of my neck.

  I know who it is before I even turn around.

  Zach’s standing at the threshold of the kitchen, staring at me with accusing eyes.

  ***

  It feels like a night for wearing my mom’s nightie.

  After it got ruined, Maggie tried to clean it for me. She was partially successful. The stains dulled out but I can still make out the huge outline of it on my chest, just under the lace. I decided to fold it neatly and stow it away so it doesn’t get damaged any further.

  But tonight, I’m alone and sad and I want something comforting with me.

  Zach didn’t show up for our meeting this evening and I’m so angry.

  So jealous.

  I keep seeing him with Leslie and I’m filled with so many irrational emotions. Emotions only he can invoke in me.

  God, that guy has always stripped away my sanity and left me a mass of craziness and passion.

  Just thinking about him with her is making me want to cry again like I’m still in high school or something. I’ve been crying ever since I got inside the door after work and so I decide to find some ice cream. Tina and I, we keep it stocked.

  I fish it out of the freezer, find a spoon in the drawer and go to my room. But as soon as I enter, I spy someone outside my window.

  Putting aside the ice cream carton, I rush to it and see the flashes of the same elbow and thighs and shoulder.

  Zach. He’s rounding the corner, probably making his way to the back door of the cottage.

  Sighing sharply, I move away from the window, shove my feet in my leather boots and run to the door, throwing it open before he gets there and marching outside.

  He comes to a stop when he sees me.

  Even though I’m a few feet away from him, I can still hear his harsh breaths. They are agitated and making his chest look infinite times bigger and broader.

  Under his dark gaze, I walk up to him. “What are you doing here?”

  He takes me in, his eyes moving as fast as his breaths and now, also my heart. What he finds on my features doesn’t make him happy. In fact, it makes him downright pissed off.

  “I told you,” he growls.

  “What?”

  “I told you I’d make you cry. I told you that I’d keep doing it.”

  Anger rises inside me like a wave. I’ve been crying for this douchebag all evening and this is what he has to say to me?

  “So?”

  “So you can’t fault me for that. You don’t get to pout about it,” he bites out.

  “Pout about it?” My nails are digging into my palms. “Fuck you, Zach, okay? Fuck. You. Yeah, you told me. You told me that you’d make me cry and like an idiot, I didn’t listen. But I’m finally listening. Are you happy now? Proud of yourself? Go home.”

  Zach steps closer to me and my heart takes an extra beat when his smell hits my nose. The night is hot as always but the heat coming off his tight body is like an inferno, and my pores sweat just by his nearness.

  He drags in a long breath, his nostrils flaring. “I never lied to you. I never promised you anything. You’ve seen me at my worst, Blue. I’ve showed you my worst self. And when you begged me to kiss you, I told you that you were mine. And still, you let him touch you. You let him put his mouth on you.”

  His anger is as powerful as his body and I sway slightly from it. It makes me feel guilty and at the same time, it makes butterflies in my stomach wake up.

  Damn it.

  How does he always do that? How does he control every single thing about me?

  “He’s my friend,” I say with gritted teeth. “I didn’t let him do anything. He was being nice. And you’re one to talk. You couldn’t stop flirting with Leslie this morning. You didn’t even touch your freaking custard.”

  Ugh.

  I can hear myself being all peevish and childish but I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop this jealousy.

  Another step closer and we’re practically nose to nose. Or more like my face to his chest since he’s so much taller than me.

  “I want you to do something for me,” he rasps.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I want you to run.”

  Something in his tone, in the mean lines of his face makes me swallow. “W-what?”

  “I want you to turn around and run. As fast as you can.” He pauses to pull in another breath. “The way I’m feeling right now. The way I’m twisted up. I don’t…”

  There’s hardly any space between us but still, I move closer to him. I’ve never seen him like this. All agitated and riddled with angst. Every breath, every word that comes out of his mouth is so tortured, so laden with harrowing things that all the instincts I possess make me want to comfort him.

  Take away his pain, even though he’s hurting me too.

  “You don’t what?”

  Zach’s eyes are swirling with a predatory glint. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Oh, Jesus Christ.

  I can’t even say, you won’t hurt me. Because I know he can. Not physically, no. Emotionally, yes.

  He can hurt me. He did hurt me this morning.

  As I watch him now, I realize how capable he is of destroying me. And I’m not talking about bullying or the past.

 

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