by M. A. Grant
Zeke stopped at a local hardware store and shut off the car. He clasped her hand, still not looking at her. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”
“Wow. And we’re to the heavy without warning,” she teased. “What brought that on?”
“I’ve been going over what Detective Mancini said,” he replied. “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about me.”
“Well, let me see if I have the right idea of you so far. You were in the military, doing something important. Now you work at The Club. I’m guessing you do something important there too, since she said you had licenses. They probably aren’t for the sale of alcoholic beverages though...”
“Concealed carry permits.”
“Oh. Guns.”
His eyebrow rose. “You don’t like guns?”
“I don’t mind guns. But I’m curious why you have them for work.”
“I signed a nondisclosure agreement.”
She turned a little in her seat so she could face him better, noting the way he didn’t let go of her hand. “You’re some kind of kinky sex master, are you?”
The guffaw that broke from him took them both by surprise. “You think I’m...that I’m a sex master?” he finally managed to get out.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m not sure what the guns are for–”
He leaned in, other hand rising to brush his fingertips against her cheek. “Security,” he answered. His voice lowered, turning rough and seductive. “Now, let’s get back to the kinky sex master. Would you like that?”
Heat rose to her cheeks and her nipples pushed against the lace of her bra. She’d never been into anything except plain old vanilla sex, but just the mental image of Zeke using her scarf to tie her hands to the bedpost made her ache.
He must have read it on her face because his eyes darkened and he leaned in even closer, until his lips were brushing hers. His hand dropped from her cheek, only to grip the curve of her hip, a hot, possessive gesture. “Oh, you shouldn’t have given that away, Viv, darlin’.”
“We’re in public,” she whispered, afraid the sparks between them would combust. At least if that did happen, she was wearing fancy underwear. Still, she wasn’t keen on everyone else in Karim getting a glance of it.
“Some people say that makes it better,” he whispered back. She shivered when he nipped at her lower lip. But then there was space and air between them and he was opening his door. “Come on.”
***
Zeke had never thought walking down hardware aisles could be a sexual experience. But that was before he’d met Vivian. He’d managed to walk away from the car before things went too far, but he’d gotten her riled and she was getting some of her own back now.
He watched, fascinated, as her pale fingers slid over spools of rope. Every now and then she’d pause for a half second, playing with a loose end and looking back over her shoulder at him. His breath would catch, his dick harden, and she’d give him that knowing smile before continuing on her way.
I will not lose my control. I will not lose my control.
The mantra continued as they wove their way through the aisles toward the security section, but with each repetition the conviction waned. By the time they arrived in the right place, his control was holding by a thread and she knew it.
“What is all of this?” she asked, peering at the various packages.
“Do-it-yourself security,” he answered, reminding himself that keeping her safe was his priority. Work before play and all that other shit.
He pointed out a few. “Those might be easiest. If the window opens and the sensors are separated, the alarm will go off. You’ll get some warning and may scare off this asshole in the process.”
She nodded, but he could see her drawing inward again, nibbling at her lower lip. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and read over several packages. When she returned to the first for another round of reading, he stepped closer to her and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Hey,” he murmured, “it’ll be fine. You won’t have anything to worry about, I promise.”
Her body softened as she leaned against him. “Thank you for helping me with all of this. It goes well above first date status.”
He chuckled. “I can’t lie, Viv. This is the first date I’ve felt comfortable on. At least I know what the hell I’m doing.”
She didn’t move from his side as they grabbed some alarms and headed to the cash register. She didn’t move when he greeted the cashier. She only argued briefly when he refused to let her pay, but some woman in line behind them distracted her with a question about her scarf. She was too polite to ignore the question and by the time she’d turned back to him, the deed was done. Resigned, she’d cuddled up against his side as they left the store.
It was nice to wrap an arm around her waist. It was nicer to step out into the sunshine and enjoy the cool breeze that floated through the parking lot, feeling her warmth pressed against him. She made a noise of contentment when he pressed a kiss to her forehead, a gesture that was oddly intimate considering how much he wanted to do far more intimate things with her back at her house.
He was closing her car door when his phone rang. “Harding,” he answered, walking around the back to get to his door.
“Okay, this is the last offer I’m going to give you,” John said. “I’m taking Delilah out tonight. If you want to come, we’ll be at Gianni’s at seven.”
“Mind if I bring a date?”
Zeke couldn’t decide if he was offended or amused by the sputter on the other end of the line. John recovered and said, “Sure, if you want. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
“Yeah,” Zeke said as he slipped into the car and looked at Vivian. “She’s one of a kind.”
Her sweet smile eclipsed the rest of John’s statement. Too distracted to listen to his friend’s amazed babbling about his newfound woman, Zeke said, “See you tonight,” and hung up.
“What was that about?” Vivian asked.
Zeke leaned across and kissed her. Only when he ran out of air did he pull back and answer. “Are you up for dinner tonight with one of the guys I served with? It’d be a double date.”
“Sure. When?”
“Later.” He reached for her again. This time, she gave a happy sigh and kissed him back. Only when his hand inched up the hem of her dress and her hand neared his fly did they both draw back, breathing heavily.
“We should put up the alarms,” she said, breathlessly.
“Yeah.”
“Probably in the bedroom first.”
“Definitely.”
It was a miracle he didn’t get pulled over on their way back to her apartment. The moment the door closed behind them, her hands were on him and he was more than happy to return the favor.
The couch was nearest and his control was shot to hell. He kissed her deeply, then spun her around, wrapping an arm around her waist and keeping her pinned against his body. “Do you trust me?” he whispered in her ear.
She swallowed, but nodded.
“Good.”
He slid her scarf from around her neck and threw it over a shoulder so it wouldn’t get lost in the chaos. He was going to want it in a minute. Her dress peeled up, revealing matching black lace. He groaned and latched his mouth to one of her nipples, ignoring that her arms were still trapped over her head by the dress.
She made a noise and worked to finish dragging off clingy material. It didn’t matter. He switched to her other nipple, suckling it through the fabric. Her eyes were dark when he finally stood and gathered his control.
“Turn around.”
She obeyed and he slipped the silk scarf over her eyes, tying it behind her head. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
“If you aren’t–”
“I’ll tell you.”
Smart woman. He walked her to the couch and pressed her against the edge. “Bend over,” he ordered. He barely caught sight of her lips curling into a sly smile before she fol
lowed his command. He stepped back, breath catching tight in his chest at the sight of her. She’d widened her stance, legs flexed from her heels, her black lace thong exposed, her arms clutching the couch arm as she waited.
“Arms stretched out,” he said, voice strangely hoarse.
Again, complete obedience. He stepped behind her, admiring the smooth expanse of her back as he slipped his fingers under her thong and slid his hand downward. She was still wet. His fingers glided over her soft flesh and he closed his eyes when she shivered from his touch.
“Zeke,” she whispered. “I need you.”
He ignored her plea and slid her thong down. Her liquid heat coated his skin, but he wanted more. He sucked his fingers. She tasted like hot sugar and sin and every sweet addiction he’d never allowed himself.
He wasn’t willing to torture himself any longer. He enjoyed the way she tensed at the rasp of his zipper going down, the way her body softened at the grunt he made when he freed himself from the confines of his jeans. He took his wallet from his back pocket, fishing out the condom he’d tucked inside. The bitterness of lube as he ripped open the package with his teeth couldn’t erase the lingering taste of Vivian. He slid the condom on and placed his hands on her hips, rubbing himself at her entrance, shaking every time the tip of his cock started to slip inside, teasing them both.
Vivian was more impatient than him. She murmured something in the couch cushion and arched her back, helping him slide into place. They both moaned and Zeke rolled his hips up, reveling in her tightness. He’d meant to go slowly, but after a few thrusts what was left of his ragged control fell apart. His thighs slapped the back of hers, his breath left him in pants. He hooked a forearm under one of her legs, lifting it up to rest her knee on the couch, granting him access to her clit.
She gave a cry of pleasure when his fingers closed down lightly around the sensitive nub. With each thrust it ground against the resistance he provided. Her arousal coated him, leaving wet spots on his jeans where the fabric made contact with her swollen lips. Her inner muscles squeezed down around his cock, signaling her nearing orgasm. He gritted his teeth and ignored his body’s own demand for release, focused on giving what he could to Vivian first.
For some reason she tried to peek from under the scarf. His reaction was instinctive. A swift, light swat on the ass made her drop her hand. Before he could try to apologize, her back straightened and her orgasm rocked through her. She screamed into the cushion and the rush grabbed him at the base of the spine, tearing up through his body as he filled the condom with thick spurts.
Only one thought existed in his head when he finally sagged over her satiated body. I am in deep shit.
***
“How?” Vivian muttered to herself. Thankfully Zeke couldn’t hear her since her face was buried in the couch cushion. But even after she turned her head and took a shaky breath through the curtain of hair that stuck to her sweaty face, the question still bounced around her head.
She’d had good lovers before. But this...him...Zeke had ruined her. She’d never thought she would ever crave giving another human being that much control over her, over her body. The scarf was a stroke of genius. Suddenly unable to see him, she’d had to rely on every other sense. Each caress, every noise he’d made had put her on edge. Finally feeling him enter her made the moment oddly intimate, despite her inability to see him.
And the spanking at the end...
She breathed out and Zeke stirred at her back. “You good, Viv?” he asked, voice gruff.
“You are a kinky sex master,” she said.
He chuckled at that and she tried not to whimper in frustration as he withdrew. The emptiness felt wrong. She could hear him move down the hall toward the bathroom. As the water turned on in the sink, she stood on wobbly legs. It was a surprise when she sensed his return, mere moments before he turned her and pushed the scarf up. She blinked and squinted at the unexpected light.
His rough hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “My God,” he whispered, “you are too damn beautiful.”
His mouth crushed against hers with such force that she would have been pushed back a step onto the couch again if his arm didn’t wrap around her waist. He took what he wanted, the long, slow plunges of his tongue making her think of its use somewhere else. Her knees quaked and he made a low growl of approval when she put a hand on his chest, curling her fingers against his shirt.
She didn’t know how long she could last if he didn’t let her come up for air. Then his hand curled around the back of her neck and his thumb glided over that sensitive spot at her hairline and it didn’t matter.
He could do whatever he wanted, as long as his skin didn’t leave hers.
“How long have we got until dinner?” she asked, wondering if she’d ever find a way to get air to return to her lungs while his lips worked their way down her cheek, brushing the corner of her mouth.
He pulled away for a moment to glance down at his watch. “A few hours. Enough time for me to get those alarms up.”
She bit down her smile and slid her hand underneath the hem of his shirt. He sucked in a breath as her fingers slid lower and lower, resting just inside the band of his jeans, curving along the muscle of his hip. “I should probably help you with them,” she whispered.
It was difficult to decide what she liked more: the way his eyes darkened in lust, or the slow, sexy smile he gave her. “Probably,” he agreed, grip tightening minutely.
“I mean, who knows how long it will take?”
He nodded, trying to look serious. The curve of his lips ruined the impression. “It could take hours.”
She dipped her fingers down and caressed the silken crown of his penis. He was already hardening. “Better get started then.”
Chapter 6
They weren’t too late to dinner. Granted, Zeke wouldn't have minded if they'd ended up not going at all. But after round three, Vivian had laughed at him and told him she needed to get ready. He should have gone home, but instead he hung out at her apartment, lying in her bed and watching her zip around the room trying to put herself to rights. Only when he had to did he return to his car and bring in his bag, throwing on his work uniform. After all, it was impossible to go wrong with an all-black suit. Vivian had stopped her own preparations long enough to do up his tie.
He hadn't expected to enjoy that small intimacy so much. He hadn't expected to feel so protective as he installed the security measures while he waited for her to finish doing her hair. For the first time since his return home from Syria, emotions were beginning to slip out of that carefully locked box. He hoped John wouldn't notice. He wasn't ready to have that conversation with his buddy yet. Hell, he wasn’t ready to have that conversation with himself.
John rose from the table as they approached, chuckling and wrapping Zeke in a bear hug. "Good to see you, you bastard," he said.
Zeke slapped his back in return. "You look good."
He didn't have to lie this time. When he'd finally left the base hospital, John was still there. They'd met up about six months after John's release. His buddy looked like shit, a shell of the man Zeke had known before their capture. It had taken a long time before John looked normal. Longer before he looked healthy. Tonight, he even looked happy.
Vivian waited quietly at his side. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "Viv, this is John Walsh. We served together in Syria. John, this is Vivian."
Seeing Vivian shake hands with John without reacting to his missing fingers and fingertips eased something in his gut. But there was no time to wonder how she'd react when she finally saw his injuries because John was helping a lovely woman from a chair.
She looked high-class, body toned from what were probably obsessive workouts. Her nails were manicured, her outfit carefully chosen to show off her assets in the best way possible. Make-up impeccable, but hair unnaturally dark for her skin. Her eyes unnerved him. Too focused, too possessive, too entitled. He'd seen women like he
r before at The Club and he hoped for his friend's sake that his first impressions of her were wrong.
"This is Delilah," John said, kissing her temple. His hand skimmed up and down her arm and Zeke could see that John had it bad. Knowing how important this dinner was to John, he put on his best smile and put out a hand.
"Nice to meet you," he said. "Zeke."
Vivian smiled from his side. "Vivian."
The woman gave a cool smile to Vivian and returned her focus to Zeke. Her hand was delicate, trembling a little when she shook with him. "I've heard so much about you," she said. Her voice was breathy and her eyes flashed with some emotion akin to greed. His dislike rose another notch. "You're the war hero."
He stiffened, casting a frustrated glance at John. His friend shifted awkwardly. "She was curious how I got out," he said by way of explanation. "I told her a bit."
"I can't believe you survived all of that," Delilah continued. "Especially dealing with everything at home. John's been so worried about you. I told him we should have put out a missing person's ad for you." Her laughter was meant to be thrilling, but only grated his already raw nerves. "At least he heard from you before we had to resort to that."
Shit, she wasn't joking, was she? He'd moved to Karim so the freaking press would stop hounding him for interviews. His life had already been a media circus once. Offers from book publishers. Film companies. Military recruiters looking to capitalize on his story. To them, he was just a commodity. But it was his fucking life and he could never escape it. At least, he hadn't been able to escape it until he ran into Mr. Mak. Now that he had his privacy, he wasn't about to lose it, even for the sake of impressing his friend's girl.
“Did you ever get the letter I sent you?” she asked. “I was hoping to meet you and finally learn about this man John always mentioned.” She must have seen something on his face because she quickly added, “I doubt it would have stood out. I’m sure you get letters like that all the time.”
