by Sara Cate
“You’ve fucked up, Zara.”
Her breath is heavy and her entire body moves with each inhale and exhale.
“You left me,” I say, snapping the belt. Her breath hitches. “You fucked him. Then you stripped for those strangers.” I snap it again. “You want to strip? Then, you’ll strip for me,” I say, crossing the room, belt in hand. Sitting in the chair, I glare at her. Pulling out my phone, I hit the music app and play something so loud, she flinches. It’s not strip club music by any means, but it’s what I want, and right now, I’m getting exactly what I want.
She doesn’t hesitate. Crawling across the bed, she sits up on her knees and pulls her shirt over her head. I’m staring at her bare tits, and suddenly, I’m reminded of that first night. How much I tried to degrade her just to spite him. I never expected her to be like this. To be the bravest fucking person I ever met. She’s not afraid of anything. And it only makes me want to scare her more.
She climbs off the bed, staring at me as I run my tongue along my bottom lip, then biting it so hard I almost puncture the skin. She drives me wild, just looking at her, and with her gaze on me, she mirrors my movement. Then, I unbutton my pants and let my cock spring free. I want her to see what she’s doing to me, and she stares down at it immediately. Lust fills her eyes as she turns and bends at the waist, pulling her pants down to expose her ass to me.
“Panties off,” I demand, and she takes them down too.
She walks toward me while I stroke myself, and when she gets close enough, I wrap my fingers around her throat. “Who do you belong to, Zara?”
“I belong to you, Nash,” she wheezes as I drag her body onto my lap.
“Then, ride my dick like there’s no one else.”
I keep my hands on her throat as she lowers herself, and I thrust in. Her face twists in pain and she claws at my shirt, so I thrust again and again.
“Harder,” she cries, and I can’t help but kiss her. Then, I reach for my belt sitting on the arm of the chair. With it folded in half, I swing it hard against the bare flesh of her ass. She didn’t see it coming, and it makes her whole body freeze as she lets out a scream. The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I notice the way her nipples harden.
“Again,” she gasps after a moment.
The crack of the belt is louder this time, and her cry is deeper, a grunt from deep within her. The pain mixes with her pleasure, intensifying it. And I guess you draw some comparisons there because it’s the pain of our grief that brings out the best parts of our relationships.
With that thought, I swing the belt again. Her body pumps harder on my lap like she’s chasing her climax, and I feel her soak my dick every time the belt lands against her ass.
“Don’t ever leave me again, do you understand?”
“I promise,” she answers, and when she opens her eyes, there are tears there, bringing out the bloodshot red around her irises. Letting go of her throat, I stand, carrying her against my body as I drop her onto the dresser. The large mirror attached, wobbles and shakes as I fuck her harder.
Staring at my reflection, I realize I may not be the same guy I once was. I’m changing, stronger, and Zara clinging to my neck, her pleasure cries in my ear only add to that image. It was never about hurting Zara or taking something from her. It’s about letting our guard down. About discovering the deepest, darkest parts of ourselves.
Her hands are on my chin, clutching my face as she pulls my attention back to her. “Fuck me like you missed me, Nash.”
Tearing her off the dresser, I flip her around and slam in from behind. Her moan is low and guttural this time. I know she’s close. My fingers find her clit, circling with pressure and I know I’m about to blow too.
We stare at each other in the reflection, both of us on the verge, and we keep our eyes there until we can’t take it anymore.
Sinking my teeth into the flesh of her shoulder, she screams as I come. Every muscle under her beautiful, olive-colored flesh tenses in my arms, and her knuckles turn white as she grips the dresser.
Her pussy pulses and tightens around my dick, and I let go, tightening my grip on her hips as I fill her.
We give our hearts a moment to return to normal before I carry her to bed. She melts into my arms. Laying her down, I do something I haven’t done so far since we’ve been together. I take my time kissing every inch of her body, especially the areas I marked, red and swollen from my roughness.
She has a hazy smile as I kiss her mouth. After a long ass night of no sleep because she wasn't with me, I’m fucking exhausted too, and maybe that’s why I’m feeling so goddamn emotional. As I stare at her, I realize I’ve never felt this way about a girl before, but Zara makes me wild and settles me at the same time. My dad has always told me women were a distraction, and I know if I keep believing that bullshit, I’m going to end up like him.
I don’t know where things are going with Zara or if they’ll stay like this forever, but she can distract me all she fucking wants.
Sleep has already claimed her when I curl my body against hers, pulling her head to the crook of my arm. And I decide to just let the words out I'm holding in because I may not be brave enough to say them tomorrow.
“I fucking love you, Zara York,” I mumble into her hair.
She wraps her arms around my waist, apparently more awake than I thought. “I fucking love you too, Nash Wilde.”
29
In my dream, I’m falling. But the crash I’m waiting for never comes. Instead I land softly in a warm bed, surrounded by arms, skin, and lips. It’s inviting and comfortable, and when I open my eyes, I’m not afraid of the reality I’m about to face.
I breathe in Nash’s familiar scent before placing a kiss on his chin. Last night was intense, the most intense it’s ever been between us. He was angry, I could tell, but there was something else there. Fear. Nash was afraid of losing me, and I had to bite back the desire to sob the entire time he was fucking me. Not because he was hurting me, but because we were shedding a layer we had been wearing to keep ourselves protected. We bared our souls to each other last night.
Running my fingers along his brow and down his cheek, I make a promise to myself that I won’t ever play with his emotions again. There is a darkness that dwells inside Nash Wilde, and I love him for it. It matches my darkness.
Crawling out of bed, I head back to my room in the guest house to shower. Putting on a pair of leggings and one of Nash’s sweatshirts, I try not to let my mind settle too much on the last forty-eight hours. I’m afraid if I think about it too long, I’ll realize how insane this whole thing is.
In the main house, I smell frying bacon coming from the kitchen. I expect to find Astrid standing at the stove, but it’s Alistair standing there in a tight-fitting T-shirt and jogging pants, looking so good I pause to watch him.
When he notices me, he greets me with a soft glare. There is still so much between us I don’t quite know how to behave around him.
“Good morning,” he says, turning back to the food. I desperately hope he didn’t hear us last night like Nash wanted. I was too lost in the moment to realize how loud I was. My ass is still sore from his belt, and I’m pretty sure I shook the walls with my screams. But God, my panties are a little wetter just thinking about it.
The only sound in the room is the crackling bacon as I walk to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. I lean against the counter and wait for this awkwardness to pass or until I think of something to say.
It stays like that for another long minute. Then, he turns the burner off on the bacon and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel. As he turns to me, it feels like my heart is in my throat. He should be mad at me for so many things. Running off after the night in the penthouse, going right back to the club, fucking Nash the first chance I had. And I wait for him to express all of the anger I know he must be feeling.
Instead, he wordlessly takes the water from my hands and sets it on the counter. Then, he pulls me into his arms and I soften agains
t his big, warm body. His chin rests on the top of my head, and I listen only to the beat of his heart.
“You left without a word,” he says, and I resist the urge to cry against his chest.
I nod before looking up at him. “It wasn’t because that night wasn’t amazing.”
“Then why?”
“Because I was scared, Alistair.”
Lifting my chin, he makes me look him in the eye. “Scared of what?” His tone is cold and commanding, his brow taut and his nostrils flared.
“Of falling,” I whisper. “When you fall for two men...you’re bound to have your heart broken.”
“So, you left me,” he replies, and it’s not a question.
“Because you scare me the most,” I answer in a soft breath. The kitchen is silent except for our gentle whispers.
His thumb brushes my bottom lip as he leans down to kiss me. “Zara, Zara, Zara,” he whispers. “What have I taught you about facing your fears?”
I can’t help but smile against his mouth, remembering how he had to drag my ass into that helicopter the first time to get me to get over my fear of flying. Now he wants me to dive headfirst into this, my greatest fear of all—love. Which is a hell of a lot scarier than flying if I’m honest.
Hooking my arm around his neck, I deepen the kiss. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee, and I want to start every day like this. Before it can get too heated, a timer goes off, and we pull away.
After he pulls a tray of biscuits out of the oven, he tosses down the oven mitts and stares at me again. Damn, why is a man who can cook so fucking sexy? I’m busy admiring him while the silence takes over again and we stare at each other.
“What now?” I mumble, biting my lip. I hop onto the counter, wincing at the soreness there, and he walks over to me, placing his body between my knees.
He seems to be thinking for a moment, letting his eyes devour me as his hands run up and down my legs. “You call the shots, baby. We do this as long as you want and whatever you’re comfortable with. As long as you two are home, I don’t care.”
I can’t keep my hands from running through his facial hair that’s grown into a cropped beard since I got here. Kissing him again, I feel a smile stretch across my face.
“This is crazy, Alistair.”
He smiles too, but then he kisses the smile right off my face. I may still be sore from my night with Nash, but I’m already ready to climb back into Alistair’s bed.
“You’re telling me? I heard you all night with my son, Zara. And all I can think is...I can do better than that.” He yanks my hips closer, grinding himself against me.
“This will be the death of me,” I reply as his mouth reaches my neck.
“What’s for breakfast?” a deep voice asks from the doorway. Alistair pulls away in a rush as if we’re being caught, and he busies himself with breakfast. I catch the way he adjusts himself in his pants, keeping himself hidden in the corner.
Nash barely even reacts to seeing me in Alistair’s arms. “That’s my sweatshirt,” he says to me as I hop down from the counter. Then his hand lands hard and loud against my sore ass, and the pain reverberates through my entire body. I let out a gasping scream and chase Nash across the kitchen, but he manages to dodge all of my swings.
“Jesus, Nash,” Alistair scolds him.
I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face. I don’t know if we’re breaking rules or if there are no rules anymore, but so far, this feels natural. We’re a family, and it might be unconventional, but if we love each other, what else could possibly matter?
The three of us sit down for breakfast and considering what a mindfuck the last couple days have been, it’s surprisingly neutral conversation. No one brings up the fact that I’ve slept with the both of them in the past two days, and I would like to keep it that way.
“The aviation showcase in Hamburg is coming up,” Alistair says nonchalantly. “Right after Christmas.” I have no idea what that is, but Nash clearly does because he tenses. There’s a subtle tick in his jaw as he scrolls through his phone trying to ignore his dad.
“Would you like to go?” he asks Nash.
When his son finally looks up, it feels like you could cut the tension with a knife. “Who, me?”
“Yeah, of course, you. You used to love to go to that.”
Nash’s foot starts bouncing under the table. “Well, I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Think about it,” Alistair says, finally giving up, and I reach across to touch his shoulder. I can’t keep my eyes off Nash and I wonder if Alistair can read him as easily as I can. “As for you,” he says, pointing at me. “You have to get back to your lessons today.”
I feel myself start pouting thinking about it. “We’re still doing that?”
“Yes, we’re still doing that,” he commands, and I hate to love when Alistair acts like my boss again, like he’s so in charge of me—which of course, he is. I can’t really complain about being back in close quarters with Alistair. I try to hide how much it turns me on by shoving another piece of bacon in my mouth, but apparently I don’t hide my excitement quite enough because Nash pushes back from the table and stalks off to the kitchen.
“I’ll be in the gym today. Have fun at your lesson,” he calls as he disappears down the hallway.
“Ready when you are,” I tell Alistair with a smile.
That night I skip my guest house altogether and crawl into Alistair’s bed where I read another twisted love story he picked out for me. After dinner where we all actually sat together and no one had to be bribed to be there, Alistair excused himself to his office for a work call, so I wanted to surprise him here.
This is my first time in his bed, and it’s so comfortable I almost don’t want to do anything but sleep. Today was the toughest of our lessons and he’s trying to get me to memorize all of the emergency protocols, but there are so many, and they just won’t stick. Even when he rewarded me with a kiss for every right answer, I wasn’t able to retain the information. After a while, I managed to persuade him into just making out with me in the cockpit regardless of how many I got right.
It’s past ten when I finally hear him walking down the hallway. He stops and stares at me for a long moment when he sees me in his bed.
“Don’t look so happy to see me,” I say.
“I thought I missed my chance. You weren’t in your guest house.”
“I sort of figured this would be a fifty-fifty thing. One night here, one night there...”
He shakes his head like even he can’t quite accept that this is happening, but he doesn’t seem to complain as he tears his shirt off and crawls across the bed. Tossing my book aside, I welcome him between my legs, wrapping them around him as he settles his weight on top of me.
We only had one night together, and I already love the way his broad hips and heavy frame feel on top of me with my legs caging him in.
When his lips touch mine, all of my worries melt away. It’s like I waited for this moment all day, and now that I have finally have him, I don’t want to move. His kisses move to my neck, and I pull at the hem of his shirt, desperate to touch him again. First his shirt comes off. Then, he pulls off mine.
“Jesus Christ,” he says, his eyes on my neck and shoulder.
“Don’t freak out. I’m fine.”
I considered this might be a problem, but I guess I thought about it a tad too late. The bite mark is purple now, and there’s some redness around my neck where Nash held me last night. He hasn’t even seen my ass yet.
And even though I tell him not to freak out, I wait for him to panic. Instead, he kisses the purple mark first, then the red ones. A deep growl shakes his chest as he grinds his hips against me, his erection like steel against my core. “You like it like that, Zara?” he asks.
“Yes,” I stammer, unsure how honest I’m supposed to be about this.
Then, he lifts his body until he’s staring down at me. “There are other ways to make you feel good,” he says. Being in Alista
ir’s gaze calms me. It feels like home, and every time I look at him now, I feel like I have to pinch myself. When did this amazing, giving, brilliant man start noticing me? When did I start noticing him?
His kisses trail down my neck, then he stops at each breast, taking his time to pull each pink bud between his teeth. He slides my leggings down along with my panties, kissing along my stomach and hips. “I have my ways.”
Just when I expect him to kiss between my legs, I let out a gasp that echoes through the room as he hoists me off the bed, carrying me into the bathroom. He sets me down on the counter before turning on the water in his giant, heavenly shower. I’m not going to lie, I’m as excited about that shower as I am about the sex, and oh look…the shower heads are detachable.
I have to grip the counter in my hands as he pulls off his pants, allowing me to indulge in the vision of a completely naked, aroused Alistair Wilde. He picks me up again, carrying me into the shower, and my body becomes warm. Every inch of me is covered with heat as Alistair steps behind me, kissing the back of my neck, rubbing his erection through the crevice of my backside.
Grabbing his washcloth, he douses it with soap and starts to clean my body. His fingers explore every inch, devouring me like I’m his last meal. It’s the most erotic feeling I’ve ever experienced, and when he’s done, he pulls one of the showerheads down to rinse off the soap. Taking his time, my skin starts to sting from the hot water but I don’t stop him. I welcome the pain, letting it intensify the pleasure. When he reaches the spot between my legs, pressing the jet pulse against my clit, I yell out, arching my back against his hard body.
Keeping an arm around my waist, he holds me upright as the hot water has me fighting against the contact.
“Too hot?” he whispers before nibbling on the lobe of my ear. His hand reaches out to bring the temperature down on the water, and I’m left panting. The skin is still sensitive from the burn, but the pressure from the stream returns, and it’s a sensation I’ve never felt, a pleasure that tightens something deep inside me.