“I don’t honestly know, Player. Here at the house, when we’re crazy, I doubt I’d even notice if someone was around, but I won’t know until it happens. I would be very uncomfortable at the clubhouse, and I have no idea how I would feel on a run. I’ve never been on one. That’s me being as honest as I can be.”
Every time he thought he couldn’t love her any more, she gave him something that made him realize she was branding deeper and deeper into his bones. She was in his soul. Wrapped around his heart. He didn’t understand how she could possibly ever think that he didn’t love her for herself. How could anyone not love Zyah once they knew her just for her? She was honest. She hadn’t condemned him or his brothers and sisters. She hadn’t said no. She had given him what she could, as honestly as she could.
“You do realize that no one can ever measure what someone else’s life or the impact of their past is against anyone else. Each person is different. We’re all born different. You escape into your mind, but your mind is very sensitive—that’s why it can fragment when you build your illusions and hold them too long. You learned, over time, to become strong, but you were a little boy, working day and night to become strong. That took courage and discipline.”
“I thought I was crazy. I thought I was so much less than everyone else. My psychic talent seemed so useless when everyone else had so much to contribute.”
“And yet you could actually cover their bodies in the illusions of sores to keep the worst of the pedophiles from taking them,” she pointed out.
He nodded. “That’s true. I did. But they’d just take another child. I wasn’t strong enough to cover everyone.” He pressed his hand to his face, tried to scrub away the memories that seemed too close. “Sometimes, Zyah, if someone died, I felt as if I killed them myself. Just like every time Sorbacov forced me to go to one of his insane parties and carry in the bombs I made. I had to sit at the table and talk to people I knew were going to die. He would sit there laughing and talking with them, eating dinner and acting as if he were their friend. I built the bombs. I carried them into the party. Czar would cover for my silence, but most of the time, Sorbacov would be furious with me that I didn’t engage with those at the table. I just couldn’t.”
“Because you were too sensitive.”
“Twice, after one of the bombs went off, I tried to kill myself. The first time, Sorbacov saved my life. He and one of his friends used me repeatedly as punishment. I was nine. He beat me with a whip after, and I remember the two of them drinking wine and laughing. I crawled over to this pipe that was in the garden. It was jagged. I’d thought about that pipe so many times when Sorbacov would rip me away from building my bombs. I would just look at that pipe. Just stare at it and know someday I was going to use it.”
Zyah closed her eyes and put her head down on his thigh. Honey. She whispered it, tears dripping in his mind.
His woman. The moment he felt her inside him, she pushed away the memories that were so close. Too close. He dropped his hands into the thick silk of her hair. “Baby, I don’t know how I even went there. I didn’t mean to. You don’t need to hear that shit. There’s no reason for it. You get enough just by fixing my mind when the migraines are so bad.”
She stayed still, letting him have her hair, knowing he needed it. Knowing it was one of his favorite things. His fingers tunneled deep into the mass, loving the silk. Loving her.
“We’re connected, Player. The two of us. It’s always going to be the two of us. So there’s a reason. You need to talk, I need to listen. And it goes both ways. Sometimes I’ll need to talk and you’ll need to listen. That’s what couples do.”
She lifted her head slowly. “I’m so in love with you, Player.” Her dark eyes met his and then she stood up before he could react to her declaration. She walked toward the bed with her unhurried steps, the sway of her hips an invitation. The transparent shirt slid from her body and floated to the floor as she moved up to the bed.
Player got up slowly, loosening the drawstring so his pants fell from his hips. He stepped out of them and followed his woman. She was gorgeous. He would walk through fire for her. She walked around to the other side of the bed so she was facing him. She put her hands and knees on the bed, and then, deliberately slowly, she crawled across the mattress toward him. Hands and knees. Her eyes on him. Sexy. Her body undulating. Fluid. Almost like a cat’s.
His gaze jumped to her full tits. He loved her breasts and the way they swayed and bounced with every movement. He was going to mark her tits, brand her with his mouth and teeth. He waited, his hand on his cock, as she took her time, stretching out, feet across the mattress toward the wall, legs wide apart. He wanted to see her inner thighs and that sweet little pussy of hers. He was going to brand those thighs as well. Mark them as his.
She lay back, her head off the bed, neck back so her throat was stretched out. She looked back at him while her hand slid down her body, fingers moving over her left tit and down her belly. His gaze followed. His eyes darkened to lust as her fingers disappeared and she moved her hips, coating her fingers before bringing them out to show him.
“This is what happens when I think about having your cock in my mouth, Player,” she whispered and brought her fingers up toward her lips. “I get so hot and slick for you.”
“Is that what you want, baby? My cock in your mouth?” His cock was so fucking hard he thought he was going to shatter.
She licked her fingers. Her hair hung like a dark waterfall of silk. He stepped closer so he could feel the mass against his thighs. Her head was positioned at the perfect height. He ran the pads of his fingers over her throat as he circled his cock with his fist.
She brought her hand back to her pussy and curled her fingers deep. The sight was so sensual, sending little forks of lightning shooting right through his groin. He caught her wrist as she brought her hand up toward her face, turning her fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean. His cock jerked hard.
She reached back with her free hand and stroked his heavy balls. “I want your cock so much my mouth is watering, Player. I can taste you.”
Dark fantasies shimmered through his mind. Erotic images built with every second that passed as he looked down at her. He felt his heart beat through his cock, right into the palm of his fist, and it matched the beat of the pulse his fingers found in her throat. She was his, and she was offering heaven to him. Offering it her way.
The tip of her tongue slid around her lips, keeping them wet. For him. She swallowed against his hand, her eyes darkening even more with an erotic, carnal, very wanton invitation.
“I wonder which of us would get off first if you were in my throat, Player. Just thinking about having you that deep gets me so close I’m not certain I can hold out long enough to do the things I want to you.” She whispered the invitation aloud, circling her clit, her knees falling apart.
She looked so sensuous, spread out on his bed, her head over the side, throat stretched out and down, hair falling like a dark silken waterfall. His lust rose fast and sharp, consuming him to the point he saw a red haze and thunder crashed and roared like a beast in his ears.
“I put my cock in your mouth like this, woman, I’m going to be going down your throat. You know that. There’s no way I won’t.” It was a warning. He meant it too. He rubbed the crown of his cock around her lips, leaving a trail behind. Her tongue chased after the shiny liquid. That was sexy as hell. She was sexy as hell.