Zain

by Monroe, Evie

  “Yes, I am. But I don’t mind,” I told him. “I’ve always wanted to ride one.”

  He hesitated before strapping his spare helmet onto me. I got the feeling he took a lot of women home on his bike, considering how hands-down gorgeous and sexy he was.

  Not to mention, good with his tongue. Crazy good with his tongue. I never realized I could come that fast. And as the result of another person’s work.

  No, to say Viktor and I had a boring love life would be an understatement. This? Being with this hot, made-for-sex man? It felt like an adventure I couldn’t wait to experience.

  Maybe the women he took home were not as eager as I was, but I didn’t see the point in hiding how excited I was to be near him. Forget shyness. I was all in.

  I’d gone to the bar feeling starved for male attention, and now I had it in my sight.

  When I lifted my skirt and slid onto the back of the bike without a second thought, his eyebrows shot up. He was just as impressed with my boldness as I was with his tongue.

  I wasn’t very familiar with the whole city of Aveline Bay. Other than the routes I traveled to go about my normal business—from my apartment to the office to daycare to Viktor’s place. But I did know downtown Aveline Bay, because I’d gotten my paralegal certificate at the community college there.

  We passed a number of old, stately homes along the main street with stone facades and slate roofs. I’d always admired them, thinking they must’ve been built in the old days by rich lawyers and doctors.

  He surprised me when, instead of driving straight to the lower end part of town, Zain turned down one of the elegant tree-line streets.

  I couldn’t believe how quiet and dark this neighborhood was after the loud bar we’d just left; it almost seemed a sin for his bike to make as much noise as it did.

  He pulled down the long driveway of a very large stone house and came to a stop, then stepped off the bike.

  I slipped off the helmet and looked up at the place. It didn’t fit him in the least. I expected at small, cramped bachelor pad of an apartment. “This is yours?”

  “No, I thought we could break in and use their shit,” he answered, taking my hand. His mouth quirked up in a smile. “Of course, it’s mine. Come on.”

  He led me through the darkness, up the steps of a stone patio, to the back of the house. He fumbled with his keys before he finally opened the door.

  He flipped on the lights, and I was shocked. I’d been expecting more opulence.

  But I was wrong. The kitchen looked like it hadn’t been remodeled since the seventies. Peeling wallpaper, dark cabinetry, linoleum tile floors. Worn, avocado-colored carpet stretched into the hallway.

  I peered inside the hallway to see a massive foyer with a large oak staircase, as well as other rooms hidden by French doors. The wallpaper in the hallway was a dull green and orange floral. The place had beautiful bones, but it looked like it had been abandoned fifty years ago. “You live here all by yourself?”

  “Yeah.”

  He dropped his keys and helmet on the small breakfast table and bridged the distance between us. Then he scooped a hand behind my neck and slammed his mouth into mine. His tongue explored my mouth greedily, and I responded in kind, pressing my breasts up against his broad chest.

  If this was a lie, or if this was just the vodka, I didn’t care. He felt damn good.

  Everything he did only made the obsession to be with him stronger. I wondered what his cock was like. Would it feel as good as his tongue and fingers? Would he make me come like that again?

  He kissed me deep, his hands in my hair, on the sides of my face. I tasted myself on him, inhaled the purely male scent of his cologne as he kissed me, his beard prickly on my skin.

  When he broke the kiss, he reached behind my legs and lifted me up easily, so I had no choice but to wrap my legs around him. I buried my face in his neck, kissing and sucking on his delicious skin as I felt him climbing the stairs. They creaked underneath us, as did the door when he kicked it open.

  Then suddenly, I was down on my back, in the middle of a bed.

  A dim light came from the hallway. In the darkness, as he removed his vest, I could still see his eyes sparkling, sliding over my body like he was trying to decide what to do with me first. Then he pulled off his t-shirt, allowing me to gaze, open-mouthed at his strong chest.

  “Come here,” he said, leaning down and hooking his arms under my knees, dragging me toward the edge of the bed.

  I looked up, past his deliciously broad chest, to those startling green eyes. He gazed back at me, heavy-lidded with a desire that mirrored my own. He scooped me up until he was standing, until he could hold my body against his, then in a dizzying turn, he sat down on the edge of the bed.

  He placed his fingers on my cheek and ran a graceful trail along my jaw, down to my throat. My breathing became erratic, coming from my lungs in fits and starts. I was dizzy but strangely content as his finger traveled down my arm, to my skirt, lifting it up off my thighs.

  “Fuck,” he said in a husky voice. “You’re so fucking sweet.”

  He flicked his tongue inside my mouth, then, bending over, buried his face between my breasts, tugging my sweater up to my chin and kissing the swell of my breasts.

  He unhooked my bra and ran his tongue over my already hardened nipples. It wasn’t the cool air blasting from the window. I was on fire. This was all him.

  “Goddamn, I love your tits,” he said, molding one in his hand and flicking his tongue over the nub.

  My head fell back and the act of breathing escaped me.

  He licked, lightly at first, and then fastened his mouth on the nipple, sucking, circling it with his tongue. I growled with more need. I didn’t even realize that he’d pulled my skirt down until it fell on the floor. He wrapped his strong arms around me, cocooning me in his warm, perfect muscles. “Oh, Zain,” I murmured, “I needed this.”

  Then he edged back onto the bed, sitting back so I could straddle him. His cock, hard and insistent, pressed through the V of my panties, straight to my center.

  And he kissed me again. Harder. Deeper. Teeth and tongue, crashing and penetrating. The scruff on his jaw was a welcome pain, rubbing against my chin.

  In the darkness, the only sounds were our kisses, wet and insistent, and our breaths, coming, hard, fast and tortured. I spread my thighs wide, and his hands snaked under my ass, caressing it, thumb lightly rubbing its way up and down my asscrack.

  His pupils dilated, his eyelids heavy, he studied me for a second, before licking his lips and ground his cock against me. I could feel it hard and throbbing through his jeans.

  “You’re unbelievable, Sasha. I needed to bring you home with me because I want you in my bed all night.”

  He crushed his mouth onto me, and in a blink, he’d rolled over onto me, kissing my ear with a hot breath. He lifted me gently up by the arms until my head rested on the pillow, then he sank his mouth into my neck, vampire like, biting and tasting as he delivered nibbling kisses to the hollow of my throat. Meanwhile, his hand stroked ever-widening circles over my breasts, down my torso, over my abdomen. I arched to his touch, pushing my pussy up to him, wanting his fingers there.

  He sensed my desire, so in-tune was he with what was going on in my head, and my body. “What do you want?” he said teasingly. “Put my hand where you want it.”

  Heaving a breath, I took his hand and guided it under my thong so that he was cupping my pussy, his fingers resting on the fine, curly hairs. He stroked it gently, not invasively, just barely, as if cautiously asking for the invitation to proceed. As if he hadn’t had his tongue there only an hour before.

  I sucked in a breath, knowing that once I gave him that invitation, all bets were off. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself not to lose all control and do something embarrassing.

  I couldn’t help it. I wanted him too much. I spread my legs apart slightly, giving him all the access he needed.

  He pressed his fingers deeper between m
y legs, stroking my cunt as he kissed me. He walked his fingers over my wet lips and brushed a knuckle over my clit, eliciting a moan from me. As soon as he did that, he inserted a finger deep inside me.

  I ran my hands up his rock hard chest, realizing the incongruity of it all. I was nearly naked, and he was still wearing most of his clothes.

  I reached for the buckle of his belt but I couldn’t get it loose.

  He let out a chuckle. “If you want me naked, all you have to do is ask,” he said, lifting up onto his elbow and pulling open his jeans. He sat back, then stood up beside the bed and slipped them down.

  Still wearing his boxer briefs, he climbed onto the bed next to me, over me, a devilish look in his eyes.

  He feasted on my nipples again, licking them more, as my hands lay uselessly at my sides. I’d wanted to undress him, to taste him, but instead, I arched and bucked to the feeling of him. He withdrew a finger, only to press it back in a moment later. Kissing, nibbling, licking, and fucking me with his fingers. I moved in rhythm with him, unable to do anything but move like a puppet on his string.

  Suddenly, he sat back. But before I could totally crumble, he slid his boxer briefs off, then crawled back onto the bed beside me.

  I drew in an uneasy breath.

  Time stopped.

  Because he was a work of art. . . and massively huge, down below. I only had Viktor to compare him to, but holy cow. I never knew cocks could grow so huge.

  He swept a lock of his brown hair aside on his forehead, clenching his jaw in a tight, smug smile of perfect male pride as he stared into my eyes.

  Then he reached down and very slowly dragged a finger over my hip, hooking my panties, and pulling them down. He slipped them over my hips, down my thighs, and slowly lifted one leg, then the other, removing them in a slow mesmerizing dance. He tossed them on the pile of clothes on the floor and the intense way he was gazing at me, I didn’t think I’d care about anything else, ever again.

  I sat up and slid my leg across him, straddling his hips. He grabbed my waist and dragged me up near his cock. His eyes were pure fire as they swept over my face, down to my breasts.

  Viktor and I had a lovemaking routine. A few minutes of foreplay followed by fifteen minutes of missionary position. This—me on top—had never happened. I never cared. Sex with Viktor was never about my pleasure, only his.

  But Zain was all about pleasing me. Like he got off on seeing me satisfied.

  And I wanted this man underneath me so much, I was ready for to do anything he wanted me to do. He could bend me any way he liked, fuck me any way he pleased, and I’d let him.

  He reached under his head, under the pillow, and pulled out a condom packet. He looked nothing like the prepared Boy Scout, but he’d been around this block before, no doubt. Ripping it open with his teeth, he slid it on his cock one-handed.

  He cupped my ass and lifted me off of him. His cock was heavy in my hand as I lifted it vertical, poising it directly under my pussy. “Slide onto me. Real slow,” he instructed. “I want to feel every fucking inch of you as I’m going in.”

  He applied just the smallest bit of pressure, but it was really all me, pushing onto him. His tip touched my lips, and I adjusted, finding the right place to sink into. I took just his tip in, as he’d told me.

  But feeling him pulsing beneath me, inside me, only made me more ravenous.

  I loved this. Loved the control. Loved being on top.

  My eyes held his, teasing, toying with him, as I gently slid down. My body shook with the desire to slam my pussy down onto him, but I did as I was told. Zain bit down on his lower lip, and clenched his hands on my hips, like he was fighting his own desires.

  I moaned softly and shuddered as I took the last of him in.

  This was it. This was what a real man felt like.

  “You okay?” he asked, twisting a lock of my hair.

  I nodded.

  “I’m so fucking deep,” he gritted out.

  He groaned and sat up a little, twisting my hair and yanking my head back so he could bury his face in my neck as he pulled out. The next thing I knew, he rocked into me, tearing a gasp from my throat.

  Tonguing my throat, he built up a rhythm. Hard and fast, then slow and gentle. He alternated the rhythm, fucking me so completely I couldn’t stop moaning. My breasts pushed up against him and the sensation on my nipples rubbing his chest was nothing I’d ever felt before. I wrapped my arms tight around his back as he drilled mercilessly into me.

  It didn’t take long before I found myself on the edge of climax, with feelings spiraling out to my extremities, turning my entire body into a bundle of nerves. Every time he rocked his hips into me, and brought me down to meet him, he went faster, sometimes breaking the rhythm to switch things up and hit another sensitive spot within me that I didn’t know existed.

  “Yes, fuck me harder, Zain. Just like that,” I demanded. He dragged his hands down so they were spanning my waist. He let out a growl as he guided me up and down, crashing us together, the headboard thumping louder and louder against the wall.

  I ran my hand down his chest, touching each nipple, though I couldn’t see them in the dark—only feel. His skin was damp with sweat, and I ached to taste the salty sweetness of it. I licked over the perfect contours of his body, tasting him. My teeth dug into his shoulder and he let out a yelp. It didn’t matter, our bodies were head-to-toe slick with sweat, and we glided over each other like a well-oiled machine.

  And then suddenly he held me tight and shuddered, his cock jerking inside me. Pressed together with him like that, I felt myself flying over the edge, soaring and releasing and spasming in deep, rolling waves.

  Coming. I was coming again. Harder than last time, a thousand times harder.

  He’d officially rocked my world. If I died right then from a heart attack, I’d have been happy.

  He let out another growl, and let his head drop onto my shoulder. I was still coming, the waves subsiding, but my nipples were erect and every pore on my body was screaming in glory. Then I ground my greedy pussy on him one more time and milked what was left of the greatest orgasm I’d ever experienced.

  That was it. The one event that had completely changed my life.

  Before, I hated sex. And now? I wanted to grind on his cock again until he split me in two. I was completely, unabashedly, irrevocably in love with his cock.

  Zain pulled out of me and rolled the condom off his dick, then tossed it in the wastebasket by his bed. I could barely move. All I could do was lie there, unable to believe what had just happened.

  We rolled onto our elbows, facing each other, spending the next few minutes just taking each other in. “So, Sasha,” he said, twirling a strand of my long hair on his finger. “Are you sleepy?”

  I shook my head.

  “What do you want to do?”

  I didn’t hesitate. “I want you to fuck me again.”

  His mouth twisted in amusement and he slipped a hand around my waist, drawing me closer to him. “Challenge accepted, pretty lady.”

  ***

  When I rolled over, I saw the light of day silhouetted around the blackout shades.

  Morning.

  I was shocked that I’d not only slept, but slept well, in Zain’s arms. After all, he was a stranger. And I was usually very particular about how I slept. I needed darkness, absolute quiet, a lot of space, a cup of hot tea. Or at least, I thought I did.

  Turned out, maybe all I needed was a night of really good sex.

  I looked back at Zain, hardly able to believe that the night had been real. He lay flat on his back, his gorgeous chest exposed, one arm folded under his head. He was even more of a work of art in the light of day.

  I gazed at his stunning profile; he looked somehow sexier with his hair all mussed and stretching out in different directions.

  I inhaled sharply as I stared, and as memories of last night came back, my heart fluttered.

  Oh, my God.

  I blushed just thinki
ng of it. I’d always been such a good girl, before. Raised by my parents to do everything right and not have one-night-stands. Actually, raised to only have sex with one man, the man I married. Hell, I’d waited until I was engaged to Viktor before sleeping with him.

  As bad as I knew this was, why did it feel so incredibly good?

  And why did I desperately want to fuck Zain again, despite feeling sore from all the many, many times before?

  I wondered if he even did repeat engagements.

  It was hard to believe he didn’t. Because last night? He’d succeeded in making me feel like I was the only woman on earth.

  How was it that some men had no clue how to treat women in bed, and then others were masters, like Zain?

  I slipped out of the bed and scooted off to the bathroom, where I peed, then nearly gagged at my reflection in the mirror as I was washing up. He might have looked hotter in the morning, but I’d gone the other way.

  I felt like whatever magic we’d had last night was souring now. I didn’t want it to, but it was. I needed to leave before he woke up.

  Quickly, I found my underwear, skirt, and sweater. Slipping them on, I looked at his sleeping form again.

  I didn’t want to let him go.

  And maybe I didn’t have to.

  I scribbled out my number on a piece of paper I found in his night table and left it on the dresser.

  The Wall was only a few blocks from downtown Aveline Bay, so I could easily walk back to my car.

  As I opened the back door and crept down the steps, I sighed. If he didn’t call, it was probably for the best. He was obviously a bad boy, and I didn’t need to get tied up with that when I had Alena. Besides, if I ever found a steady guy, I’d never hear the end of it from Viktor.

  So, it was probably better if we didn’t see each other again.

  Then I thought of him, kneeling over me, with that giant cock and that hot, smug look on his face, promising me pleasure, and I changed my mind.

  Maybe it wasn’t better?

  Chapter Seven

  Zain

  I woke up in bed, on my stomach, and blinked at the bright sun streaming in through the shades.