Zain

by Monroe, Evie

  I came up behind her and lifted the t-shirt, happy to find she was completely bare underneath. I squeezed her ass and my fingers found their way between her thighs. “I think my breakfast is right here.”

  She wriggled ticklishly, still watching the television. I groaned as I saw what it was. My 600-Pound Life.

  “So, you’re into this shit?”

  She turned her head to me. “I love reality television. My guilty pleasure.”

  I shrugged and tried to get in her business again. I felt her in my pores, now, but I’d just brushed my teeth and was dying to taste her on my tongue again. Right now, that was what was important.

  She swatted me away. “Not yet. Unless you want a burnt breakfast.”

  I grinned at her. “I want a burnt breakfast.”

  She smacked me, as I feigned innocence. I reached for her ass again. She nearly kneed me in the crotch.

  “Eat the breakfast I made you, first,” she said, swatting my hand away for the umpteenth time.

  “All right, all right,” I said to her, sighing. I slipped my arms around her and pressed her against my growing erection. “Just a little taste, though. And then you can finish.”

  Her mouth opened slightly as she contemplated that. “All right. A little.”

  She pulled me closer against her. I could feel the shiver of excitement under her skin, and it only made me want her more.

  She wriggled around, smiling at me, her dark eyes sexily bleary. I lost count of the number of times we’d come last night, but we’d definitely gotten our exercise, all over the house. Unbelievably, I wanted her again. My cock rose up for the challenge. I felt giddy, like a teenager.

  I wrapped my arms around her, not letting her go so easy. Eventually, she turned fully around and let me kiss her. The kiss deepened, and my hands roved underneath my t-shirt, baring those thighs. I dropped down to the ground, then hoisted her onto the edge of the counter with no protest from her.

  She spread her legs wide as I didn’t hesitate bringing my mouth to her pussy. She wriggled at first from the overpowering sensation when I first found her clit, but then she settled into it, gasping, pressing herself into my waiting mouth. I sucked on her, flicking my tongue over it as she moaned.

  I didn’t need breakfast. I loved this woman’s taste. Not just loved it but craved it. My tongue went wild, lapping her up like a ravenous animal.

  She arched her back, tangling her hands in my hair, saying my name over and over again and moaning. Sweetest sound on earth. When she came, I found myself not wanting to stop. I wanted to devour her whole, again and again.

  “You’re so fucking hot,” I whispered into her skin, once I’d risen to my feet again, my mouth soaked with her juices. I sank my teeth into her neck, and she let out a gasp.

  “I need you again,” I growled, pushing aside my boxers as I held her there. She wanted it, I could tell, from the way she wrapped her legs around me. I thrust into her, and we both let out a breath. I fucked her hard, the way she liked.

  We stared into each other’s eyes as I moved against her, as she lifted her back off the counter, meeting my every thrust, hard. There was defiance in her eyes. She grasped my ass, pulling me harder, as if it wasn’t enough.

  She came for a second time that morning, breathing hard, and then whispered into my shoulder, “Fuck, the breakfast.”

  My thoughts exactly. Fuck the breakfast.

  I grabbed her hair by the messy bun, yanking it enough to rip strands of hair free, lifting her face to me, fervently fucking her. As I came, unleashing hot pulses of come into her, she whispered, “No. The breakfast!”

  Her eyes went behind me, and at that moment, the smoke alarm went off, and I realized the kitchen was filled with black smoke.

  My eyes snapped to the stove, where a small fire was starting to lick its way toward the ceiling. She quickly uncoiled her legs from around my waist, and I pulled out of her, grabbing the pan and throwing it into the sink. Choking on black smoke, she came up close to it and sighed. “It was supposed to be bacon.”

  “Well, now it’s cinders.” I sliced a hand through the smoky air. “Ah, I’m good with coffee.”

  I wrapped an arm around her, feeling her ass under the shirt. My come leaked out between her thighs, onto my fingertips, and it suddenly hit me.

  “Fuck. No condom.”

  She blinked. “Oh…” She looked down at herself. Her face flushed. “Uhm. . .” She fidgeted and looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh, God! I’m so late for work!”

  She ran out of the room, peeling her t-shirt off. I followed her and found her in the foyer, hopping into her panties.

  Her expression had done a one-eighty. Instead of being relaxed and sexy, now, worry creased her forehead. “What’s the deal?”

  She jogged into the living room and scooped her dress off the floor, shimmying into it. “It’s a long story. But the basic idea is that they don’t like me. I can’t be late. And I have to go home and get changed, first. I can’t show up wearing this.”

  She rushed over to me, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before trying to get past me. I slid a hand around her waist before she could and pulled her toward me. “When do I see you again? Tonight?”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh. No. Not tonight. I have something to . . . do.” Sounded like a lie to me, whatever it was. There was definitely something she was avoiding. But I didn’t push it. “I’ll call you. Or call me. Just . . . maybe don’t text me like you did yesterday. I couldn’t concentrate at all.”

  I winked at her. “Then I definitely will text you at work.”

  “Ha ha.” She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a kiss. She let me trail my hands under her dress, and I massaged her ass. My cock jumped again. “I’ll see you soon.”

  I watched her hurry away, then heard her car start up at the side of the house and listened to her pull down the driveway and speed down the quiet residential street. I grabbed my phone, hoping that last roll in the hay against the kitchen counter wouldn’t come back to haunt us. The last thing I needed in my life was a kid. I wasn’t exactly Mr. Rogers, and I’d seen how fatherhood had completely fucked with Cullen’s life, and now Nix’s… and Liv hadn’t even had her baby yet.

  I had one text, from Cullen: Viktor wants to go over our operations to make sure Hell’s Fury hasn’t fucked up anything else. Come by when you can.

  I groaned. This Russian prick was really getting on my nerves.

  I texted back: Be there in twenty.

  Then I went upstairs, got myself a shower, changed into another pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and headed back toward the clubhouse.

  When I got there, I noticed right away all the garbage around and cleaning I’d have to do. Fuck that. I’d pay someone to clean it up. Soon.

  Most of the guys were already there, and it was clear things weren’t as peaceful as they’d been a couple days ago. Drake looked pissed. He stood in front of Hart’s laptop, shaking his head, saying, “I don’t care what your contacts in Russia are saying. Our numbers aren’t going down.”

  Viktor, wearing a replica of the same suit he’d been wearing last time, jabbed a thick finger at the screen. “The numbers don’t lie, comrade.”

  “They aren’t accurate,” Drake said. As treasurer of the Cobras, he was in charge of inventory, and making sure we were lifting the right number of cars every month to keep up with demand. “Because of the uptick of fighting with the Fury, we’ve had to switch around our schedules. We had a slow start this month because of some shit that went down. But we’ll make it up before the end of the month. Chill, man.”

  He was talking about the deal with Joel. We’d wasted a lot of time dealing with him, trying to get intel and make sure he was safe. Not to mention that the Fury had fucked up several of our grabs. So yeah, we were behind. But we didn’t expect the numbers to stay down for long.

  “The numbers for this month are shit,” Viktor growled. “What the fuck have you lokhi been doing?”

  Drake p
ounded the table and stood up. “Listen, man—”

  Viktor got in his face, staring him down, nose to nose. “No, you listen. While you’ve been fucking around like deti, your business is getting away from you.”

  I put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, trying to pull him away. “Dude. It’s fine. Once we end the Fury, the production will go back to normal.”

  He stared at my hand like it was infected. “It’s not fine. Your operation has been bringing up the longest lead-time and the smallest returns of any of the West Coast operations. The syndicate does not like this. They’ll find someone else to get them what they need.”

  We didn’t doubt it. The Cobras did a damn good job, for the number of men we had. But we were a small club, and there were bigger fish out there that could probably turn over more inventory. And yeah, the Fury’s shit had cut into our operations. We were running at full bore, but I wasn’t going to be the person to admit that Viktor was right—our inventory was lacking more than we wanted to admit.

  But this asshole was bluffing. He knew the syndicate wouldn’t take our business from us. We delivered, and with a lot less of the red tape the other operations made them cut through.

  “Go right ahead,” I grunted, defiant. “You go ahead and see what they say.”

  He didn’t miss a beat. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. “I will do that.”

  Then he strode out of the clubhouse, not looking back. I looked at Drake and shook my head. Drake dragged a hand down his face. “That asshole’s really getting on my nerves.”

  Cullen, who’d been out back readying a new vehicle to ship overseas, appeared in the garage bay. “Where’s Viktor?”

  “Out front, playing with himself,” Drake muttered.

  Cullen looked at me for the answer, so I gave it. “He was complaining our take was slow this month, so he threatened to call the syndicate and report us. I told him to go ahead.”

  Cullen frowned. “Did you tell him the reason why? That it’s the fuckin’ Fury? That that’s the only reason that big motherfucker’s here?”

  “Yeah, we told him,” I grumbled, going to the fridge and getting a beer. “The fucker’s an asshole. He doesn’t want to listen. He just wants to create trouble. We’re hanging all our hopes on this guy? Seriously?”

  Next to me, Drake nodded. At least he was on my side.

  Cullen glared at both of us. “Look. I hate it as much as you do. But talking to Maben in Russia, he gave me his word this Viktor fucker could take care of the Fury and none of it would come back on us. He’s our only chance to get rid of the Fury and keep things going. You got that? So if he says jump, we jump. Just for a week or so. Then back to normal. You hear me?”

  I looked at Drake, who scratched his temple and hitched a shoulder. “Yeah. Okay,” he said, beaten.

  Cullen gave me a look, waiting for me to the say the same. Fuck it. “Fine.”

  Cullen cupped his hand around his ear. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Fine,” I said, louder. What did he expect, for me to go and suck his dick?

  “Good.” He headed for the front door. “Now I guess I have to go kiss some ass on your behalf. But next time, man, you’re cleaning it up yourself, so there better not be a next time.”

  As he strode away, instinctively, both Drake and I gave him the double-middle-finger salute behind his back.

  But Cullen always had a radar for that. He held up both of his middle fingers, back at us.

  “I’m serious, guys,” he called as he went to the front of the clubhouse, where Viktor had gone. “If either of you fuck this up, I’ll have your heads. And Zain. . .clean this shithole up already! It’s your job!”

  Drake gave me a look that echoed everything I was thinking. We knew not to mess with Cullen, because he meant every word he said. But dammit, I’d never been so close to throwing down with him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sasha

  Somehow, I managed to get into work without being too late.

  Only fifteen minutes.

  That was a small miracle, considering I’d driven like a madwoman to my apartment, showered, changed, and driven back to the office, all in the space of twenty-five minutes.

  Unfortunately, fifteen minutes was still an offense punishable by death. Or at least, one would’ve thought that, from the looks Marina gave me.

  “Look who showed up!” she called jovially as I stepped inside. “So glad you decided to join us, Sasha.”

  I fought the urge to jump on her and poke her eyes out as I walked past her to my cubicle.

  “I closed up last night,” I reminded her gently.

  “Oh. About that,” she said, giving me a plastic smile. “You forgot to turn off the front lights. Mr. Simms doesn’t want us wasting electricity, you know. He was furious.”

  Damn. Had I forgotten the lights? I’d been too excited about meeting Zain that I’d rushed out like a bullet shot from a gun. “Well, I—”

  “And your shirt’s unbuttoned. I can see almost all your assets,” she said, leaning in as if to whisper, but still speaking so loudly that some of the men in the office turned to check us out.

  I looked down. Sure enough, I’d missed a couple buttons on my blouse. I started to button them, my cheeks flushing.

  “Or maybe that’s the way you’re hoping to get ahead in the office?” she asked sweetly. “I’ve heard that works. You’re young and attractive. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt your case to throw those assets around. At this point, you’ve been late so many times, if he did hire you for Senior Paralegal, that would be the only way to explain it.”

  I scowled at her as Sarah appeared, her face twisted in disgust. She must’ve heard the last comment. “Shut up, Marina. Geez, you can be such a bitch.”

  Marina blinked innocently. “What? She’s trying to get ahead by using her sex appeal instead of good old-fashioned hard work, and I’m the bitch?”

  “I missed a button on my blouse,” I said to her, my voice rising. “That’s all. It wasn’t intentional.”

  “Riiiight,” she said, drawing the word out like she didn’t believe me. She turned and sauntered back to her cubicle, swinging her wide hips in her bright, hot-pink boucle suit that probably cost more than my rent for the year.

  Sarah touched my shoulder and whispered, “Don’t mind her. Is everything okay? Alena’s all right?”

  I nodded and walked to my cubicle to set my things down so Robert wouldn’t see me, looking like I’d just walked in, even though I had. It didn’t matter—he probably already knew I’d arrived late. Knowing Marina, she’d already sent him an email.

  “You look a little. . . stressed?” Sarah said, tilting her head as she inspected me over the cubicle wall. “Is Alena still sick?”

  I leaned over to switch on my computer, then felt my hair to make sure it was all still neatly twisted in the bun. “Nope. All’s good. Just overslept a little.”

  She eyed me warily but eventually sat down to do her own work. The moment I was alone and had a second to concentrate, it hit me.

  I still hadn’t called Viktor to check on Alena.

  That was bad of me. I’d called her last night while I was still at the office working late. I told her I’d pick her up tonight, and we’d get those chicken nuggets and ice cream. She’d been less than enthusiastic about spending another night with her dad, but I promised I’d make it up to her.

  And what had I done? I’d let another day go by without calling to wish her a good morning.

  Cursing myself, I quickly dialed Viktor’s number. I let it ring four times before deciding he must already be working and didn’t want to be disturbed. I ended the call and texted: Sorry. Late night last night. Hope everything is ok with Alena.

  A moment later, he responded with: Y.

  That was it. Just: Y.

  Which told me he was pissed at me. Right. Because my having a career and working late wasn’t important in his book. Also, though I knew there was no way he could have kno
wn what I’d been up to after work, I still felt a little guilty. I didn’t have time for Alena, and yet I’d had time for Zain. And also, I couldn’t help feeling like Viktor had found out. He’d once told me, right before I’d left him, that he had eyes everywhere.

  No. If he’d found out what I’d been up to, he wouldn’t just be pissed.

  He’d probably be so jealous, he’d kill me. Maybe not kill me, but he’d rip me a new asshole and make me wish I were dead.

  My mouth went dry at the thought.

  Somehow, I managed to buckle down and work the rest of the day without incident. I worked an extra half-hour, too. Long enough to make up for arriving fifteen minutes late, but not long enough to avoid Marina’s, “Oh, Sasha, are you taking a half day?” when I tried to slip out unnoticed.

  But I had to get to Alena. I missed her so much, my heart hurt.

  And I also felt guilty. Like I’d abandoned her and put my needs in front of hers. I tried to remind myself that wasn’t the case. The court had her visiting her father on weekends, and I’d had to work late yesterday. I hadn’t just skipped out because I wanted to shack up with Zain. I’d never do that.

  As I drove, my route took me along the beach. The setting sun painted orange rays across a canvas of pale blue sky. I loved California. Even though I threatened Viktor with taking Alena back to Russia, I didn’t think I’d ever truly go. Moscow was dreary. The California sun, the ocean, the people . . . this was my true home. I’d never been close to my family, so there wasn’t anything in Moscow to go back to. I’d been such a shy, sheltered little mouse back then. In so many ways, I’d become a new woman since leaving there.

  And I’d become even more different since leaving Viktor.

  Now, I was independent. I was confident. I was an American woman. The kind of woman I wanted to be for Alena’s sake.

  I smiled as I stopped at a traffic light. My eyes trailed out the driver’s side window, to a series of one-story warehouses on the wharf. Nothing very intriguing. I passed this way almost every day, and it was usually the same scene. Men in work clothes, going home from their jobs, a few seagulls, strutting around on the pavement looking for scraps, and beyond that, the placid ocean, glimmering in the sunset.