I lean down to feather a kiss along his jaw, but he turns his head and catches my lips with his, kisses me hard and deep. “Nobody else touches me,” I promise as I draw back, just far enough to meet his eyes. “Nobody but you.”
He smiles, a soul-deep smile that catches my eyes, sets me on fire. “Because you’re mine, Clove. And I’m yours.”
“Mine to do with as I wish,” I point out, spreading my fingers wide and wrapping my hand around his cock in earnest this time, clutching him tight enough to feel his velvet-smooth skin under my fingertips, and the hard steel of his shaft beneath.
“And what do you wish to do to me, Clove?” Zayne’s eyebrows rise, those blue eyes of his fixed on mine, all heat underneath and ice on top, like he could burn and chill me all at once. He does, in fact, quite frequently.
I tighten my grip on his cock and begin to slide my hand up and down his shaft, my own smile widening. “I want to make you come so hard you forget your own name,” I murmur.
He smirks and tilts his body, curving his hips up toward my hand to give me easier access to him. “If anybody can make me lose control, Clove, it’s you.”
I don’t need more invitation than that. It’s already hard enough to resist the sight of his thick, swollen cock, and the scent of sweat and sex that hangs heavy in the room. His scent drives me mad—I never much thought about hormones before, but now I realize how real they are, how crazy the scent of his makes me. I lean down to kiss around the base of his cock, letting his shaft brush against my cheek, my forehead, my hair, as I circle him. His cock jumps again, the muscles tensed, out of his control now. Just the way I like.
I duck my head between his thighs to lick his balls, one at a time. He tastes amazing, hot and heady with a touch of salt, and an underlying flavor that’s all him, more addictive than anything I’ve ever tasted before. I suck one of his balls between my lips, close my lips around him and roll it along my tongue. He moans faintly, just a soft sound, one he’s clearly trying to suppress. He won’t be able to for long, if I have anything to say about it.
“Fuck, Clove,” he murmurs as I release that ball and lap at the other one, flick my tongue across him, then dig it against the sensitive spot right between his balls and his cock. His cock jumps again, and I catch it in a tight fist, start to stroke him again while I continue licking around his base. I close my lips around the side of his shaft, suck hard enough to leave a little mark, hard enough to make his hips jerk once more, and then I move on, rolling my tongue around him as I inch up his length.
When I reach his tip, I gently purse my lips against him, my mouth already wet from licking him so much. Slowly, I increase pressure, parting my lips around the head of his cock to gently press him into my mouth. I keep my lips tight around him, press my tongue up against the underside of his cock, tracing the thick veins there, so he feels every inch of my mouth as I take him inside.
“Your… fucking… mouth,” he whispers between hard breaths. I grin and keep taking him in deeper, sliding his cock along the length of my tongue.
“You’re fucking magic,” he murmurs, head falling back on the pillow.
I take him deeper, deeper, until the tip of his cock touches the back of my throat.
“Clove,” he moans, and I wrap my one fist around the base of his shaft, keeping the pressure there as I sit up slowly, drawing him back out of my mouth once more.
When he’s fully out, I lick the tip of his cock and savor the droplets of precum I can taste already. I lean back to eye his swollen length, glistening with my spit, hard as ever, his veins standing out, the whole cock pulsing with blood, his desire evident, impossible to deny.
“Don’t…” He stops himself, grits his teeth.
I grin at him. “Don’t what?” I lift one eyebrow. Lean back down to lick his tip again, and enjoy the way his cock jumps once more. I circle my tongue around his head, and wrap my fist around his base again, stroking him slowly. “Don’t stop?”
“Don’t…” He locks eyes with me and sucks in another deep breath. This is it, I think. I’ve finally made him beg the way he always makes me. “Don’t make me punish you worse later,” he replies, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
I have to laugh, though I lean down to lick along one side of his cock again as I do. “I thought you enjoyed punishing me,” I point out, then lick the top of his cock, my mouth open so he can watch me do it. He drinks in the sight, his gaze as hungry as ever. He might be tied up just now, but my lover still looks dangerous, ready to pounce on me at any moment if his lust reaches frenzy pitch.
Part of me hopes it will. My belly clenches, a curl of anticipation hidden deep inside.
“Oh, I do,” he murmurs, and my pussy tightens too, those words sending a pulse of desire through my whole body.
“Good,” I reply. Then I lick along him again and flatten my hand across his stomach to pin him against the bed. I keep up that slow, maddening pace until he seems like he’s about to burst, his muscles strained and his breath coming fast, even though he struggles to disguise it.
Finally, I take him into my mouth and begin to work on him, sliding him in and out of my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat like he taught me. As I expected, he doesn’t let me stay in control for too long. I get him worked up to a point but then he loses his ability to remain cool. He tugs his arms free from my meager restraints and grips my head, hands buried in my hair, eyes shut with pleasure as he thrusts up into my mouth. I relax my jaw, catch breaths between his thrusts, and let him fuck me from below, his hips rising up with every thrust, his cock spearing deep into my throat.
I love this best of all—the way he abandons all sense of control, becomes wild, animalistic with lust. He wants me, and nothing will stand in his way. I watch him, enjoying the almost pained expression of desire on his face, the way his eyes screw shut and his mouth falls open in ecstasy.
As he nears his peak, his eyes open and find mine. He watches me, a dark, hungry glint in his eye as he thrusts into my mouth again, again, hands clenched tight in my hair, his teeth gritted. And then, all at once, his expression shifts, his mouth parting farther as he comes hard, deep in my throat. I swallow his cum, savoring the taste, the flavor of him magnified, stronger than anything else. When he sinks back against the bed, I keep licking his shaft, his tip, cleaning every drop from him, until finally he shudders, grips my shoulders and tugs me up toward him.
I fall at his side, and he wraps his arms around my body, pulling me against his warm, naked skin. He kisses me once more, deeply, and his tongue slips between my lips, probing my mouth, tasting himself on me.
“Fuck, Clove,” he murmurs again when we break apart. “You are impossibly perfect.”
I smile and nuzzle into his side, arms tight around his waist. “Me? You’re the one who was hiding right beneath my nose this whole time. In a doorman’s uniform, no less.”
He laughs, and I can hear the echo of it in his chest as I lie against him, the feel of his breathing against my cheek, the hum of his voice when he speaks tickling my cheek. “I wasn’t hiding. I was right there in plain sight. You were just blinded by the sexy hat.”
I snort and flick his stomach. “Sure, that was it. That damned hat stood in our way.”
“And to think, all it took to get you to look beneath was punching out an asshole.”
I laugh and elbow him again. He just laughs harder.
“Well,” he amends. “Punching out a guy, and then sending you a particularly witty sext later.”
My cheeks flare red-hot again. I lean up to make eye contact and glare down at him, pretending to be offended. “How dare you insinuate that I would ever take part in something so crude as sending dirty texts, sir. I am an innocent, nice girl. I would never do such a thing.”
His eyes spark. “Not from what I’ve seen.” He grips my hips and flips me around, all in one smooth motion so I’m underneath him smirking up at him. Then he leans in to nibble along my neck, teeth grazing my skin just hard enough t
o make me gasp, goosebumps rising along my whole body. “You are one… very…” He bites me a little harder to make a point, “naughty…” He leans up to nip at my earlobe, sucking it between his lips, “girl,” he finishes whispering in my ear.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him against me. His cock is still wet from my saliva, but I can feel him start to tense, a fresh rush of blood flowing south as I lean up to lick along his ear in response. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“No? Maybe this will refresh your memory…” He sits back and pulls me up with him, then promptly bends me forward over his legs so his slowly hardening cock presses against my side, and he runs his hand along my ass. “After all.” He smirks, the smile evident in his voice. “I believe I owe you a spanking…”
I turn just far enough to bat my eyes at him. “You did promise to make it a worse punishment this time,” I remind him.
He grins back, eyes on fire. “Oh, that much I do remember, my darling.”
10
Our reunion lasts well into the night. Later than it should, considering Zayne is on the early shift tomorrow. But he insists that he doesn’t care. It’ll be worth feeling tired on his feet tomorrow, if he can fuck me senseless tonight. I have to admit, I don’t protest too much.
When we’re finished and I fall asleep in his arms, though, part of me feels almost nervous. This feels too easy, too perfect. Something has to go wrong, throw a wrench into this.
What, you mean besides the mess you’ve already landed yourself in? I think when I wake up the next morning, still tangled in Zayne’s warm, reassuring embrace. The sound of his phone alarm ringing at full volume startled me awake, straight out of a stress dream in which my boss was telling me that she’ll have to make this break permanent and let me go. I’ll have to find a new job, a new career, all with this staining my reputation. If anyone googles me, the first thing they’ll see is this fake sex advertisement with my real tits plastered all over it. How can I ever find a job again if this company won’t keep me?
Yet somehow, even with that stress keeping me up, worry flooding my subconscious dreams, I can’t help but feel reassured with Zayne here. He might be the cause of the problem, but it’s not like he did it on purpose. And he’s going to help me fix it. Nothing could stand in the way of the two of us working it out together—I feel sure of that.
I roll over to kiss his jaw lightly, and he sighs, shifting in his sleep.
“Five more minutes,” he murmurs.
My chest tightens. Something about this, the way it feels so normal and natural to wake up in his arms, is so sweet it’s almost painful. “Zayne.” I nudge him. “Your phone is going off.”
“Five minutes,” he repeats. Then he heaves a sigh and cracks one eyelid to peer at me. “Wait. We changed it last night didn’t we.”
I have a dim memory of around 3:30 in the morning, as he coaxed me into one more romp, his fingers stroking along my mound. “I believe you said I couldn’t let you sleep through this alarm on pain of death and/or dismembering from Paul.”
Zayne groans and levers himself up on one elbow. “I guess a deal’s a deal, then.” He glances over at me, and pouts a little as his gaze drips over my body. “Unfortunately I won’t have time to make you scream for mercy again this morning…”
I laugh and swat his shoulder. He grins and catches my wrist, tugs me forward into a quick kiss.
“But I’ll settle for an IOU.” He winks, and I feel a flush of heat, both in my cheeks and deep in my belly at the promise of another round tonight.
It could always be like this. We could always be like this.
“Zayne…” I swallow hard, unsure where to go with that. I want to tell him what I’m feeling, but it seems so fast, so sudden.
He curls his fingers around mine and lifts my hand to his lips for a slow kiss along my knuckles. “I know, Clove. This is… I didn’t expect this either. But let’s enjoy it as it comes. And as for the rest, the photo…” His face falls, somewhere halfway between sorrow and anger. “I am so sorry for all of it. I’ll find a way to fix it, no matter what it takes. I just… I can’t bear the idea of knowing that I did that to you.”
“You didn’t.” I shake my head, firm and fierce. “Your ex isn’t your fault. We’ll figure it out together. Who knows?” I force a laugh, a carefree expression I don’t really feel. “Maybe the company has already written back to me. Maybe they found the culprit and we won’t need to worry about this anymore. They could get the photo removed from the other website, have it shut down somehow.”
“Maybe.” He smiles too, and though both of us can tell that it’s forced and fake, neither of us wants to admit it. So, we lean in and kiss again, our lips forcing all the emotions we can’t express into that one kiss.
When he leaves, I linger by the doorway staring after him for longer than I care to admit. I feel unmoored, purposeless. Without my job, I’m not sure where I ought to be anymore, what I should be doing with myself right now. I guess just solving his whole photo attack mystery and getting back to my regular routine as quickly as humanly possible.
So, with that thought in mind, I skip cooking breakfast altogether. I normally skip it anyway, but these past few days with Zayne, he’s been cooking for me each morning, and I find myself missing the habit of it, the routine of eating first thing in the morning to wake up my brain before I start to tackle the day ahead.
Who knew so much about you could change so quickly when you meet the right person? With Zayne, I feel like so many missing pieces are clicking into place that it’s hard to keep track of how fast it’s all moving.
But I don’t regret it. I’m loving this ride, crazy as it may be.
Still, today, I decide to forego the breakfast, because I want to get straight to work. I power up my computer, leaving my phone safely shut off so that I don’t see any of the harassing messages. Not yet. I’ll deal with those later, when I have to. For now, I log onto the app’s website and scan my inbox, praying for a response.
But I don’t see any reply with the company header on it. No answer to my long message about what happened to me, about my picture being stolen from this site and used in a horrible attack on a different site.
There are a couple regular messages, a lot of “hey” and “’sup baby” with winking faces. I ignore those.
Then there’s one more message, from a blank profile. The name just says YouShouldKnow. There’s no photo or anything. But it’s the subject of the email itself that catches my eye. Catches my eye, and makes my stomach sink inside me, nerves firing all over again.
About Zayne.
Zayne doesn’t use his real name on his profile. Nobody does on this site. We’ve all learned better by now—me especially, given everything that kicked off this week even without my real name being accessible on this app.
So who is this from, and why are they talking about him?
I click it open and my stomach sinks even farther.
There’s no text in the message. No explanation for what I’m looking at. But it doesn’t take me long to piece it together.
The message contains a series of screenshots. They’re all of one profile, a profile I don’t recognize. MrPlayaZ. But they’re not just public screenshots. It includes private messages, messages to and from that MrPlayaZ account.
And the “playa’s” account itself? It’s all photos I recognize. The same photos that Zayne used in his AtYourService account.
Heart in my throat, I scroll through the other screenshots. There are texts, messages between MrPlayaZ and other women.
Hey baby, love ur pics. I’d like to get that top off you ;)
Worse ones, ones that go back and forth between other girls. My stomach rolls over, and I feel nauseous, looking at the evidence right in front of my eyes.
MrPlayaZ: Last night was amazing, wanna grab a drink again this weekend?
CandyCane: I have to wait that long to feel that sexy tongue of yours again?
Or another.
>
MrPlayaZ: I can make you come in ways you can’t even imagine, babe.
XtraSaucy: You’re welcome to try anytime you think you can handle this ;)
And more. And more. I scroll through them all, even the longer conversations, full on sexts with women, describing how hard they make him, asking them to finger themselves. Details of how they touch themselves thinking about him. Hell, even one where he talks about jerking off in the back room at work—the same mail room where he touched himself thinking about me this weekend.
That message hits home because it’s dated.
Yesterday.
I want to vomit. The whole room feels like it’s spinning around me.
Frantic, I check Zayne’s regular profile. But the evidence is scrawled across it too. Something I should have noticed, something I was so stupid to miss. The date that any new account is created is listed on the user’s homepage,, mostly so the site can spam you with ads about “giving new members” a chance, hoping you’ll be more likely to match with someone even if they have a lame pickup line.
Right there at the bottom of the AtYourService account is the date it was created.
Friday. The same day he fought off that creeper. The same night we matched and first began to text.
Then to sext, using the same horribly cheesy lines Zayne used to pick up girls on his other profile. His real profile, the one he never told me about.
He was talking about deleting the app the other night. About getting off this site, because he didn’t need it now that he’d found me. But I’d bet anything he was just going to delete this brand-new account, made only to lure me in. He’d keep right on sexting all these other women with his regular account.
I feel nauseous.
I can’t think straight, can’t even formulate a response to this anonymous sender.
Big Bad Boys: A Romance Collection Page 53
