Mine

by Kenya Wright

  Holy Jesus. Why must this man always look so delicious?

  “So, you think that if I break your stalker’s legs, that it will be the end of it?” he asked.

  “You don’t have to break his legs.”

  “Of course.” He gave me a skeptical expression. “I can just talk to him.”

  “No, but we can hand him over to the police—”

  “Or him and I could meet at Starbucks.” Hunter shrugged. “We could bond over unicorn Frappuccinos.”

  Frowning, I crossed my legs.

  Hunter directed all his attention to them. “Your stalker is not leaving you alone, not after a talk or even a smack against his sick head. The cops won’t do enough. There will be more that needs to be done.”

  Dread filled me.

  York, you should’ve never called Hunter. This is going to get out of hand.

  Hunter moved his gaze to my face and hit me with an intense stare. “Let me take care of this. Let me do it my way.”

  “I don’t want your way to get you in jail.”

  “I haven’t been in jail yet.”

  “Due to all those powerful friends you’ve made.”

  “Exactly.” He rose as if we’d finally come to an agreement. “We should go. You have a long day tomorrow. You’ll need your rest.”

  I twisted in the chair. “I also have an event I must work tonight. And how do you know my schedule?”

  “York gave it to me.”

  It made sense that my brother/manager would give it to my new bodyguard/adopted brother. It’s just that it all reminded me of being a kid again, and them getting together and controlling everything. That being said, the stalker taking my panties had kept me paranoid this week. Regardless of how crazy and violent Hunter could be, or how bossy York loved to be, I felt good that they were looking out for me.

  “No parties tonight, Zuzu.”

  I clenched my teeth at the nickname. “I’m a woman now, not a little girl. I prefer Zola.”

  Hunter nodded. “You are.”

  “What?”

  “A woman.” The way he said it made me think of his fingers all over my skin.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He raised his eyebrows. “For what?”

  “For not calling me Zuzu anymore.”

  He laughed. “Oh no, Zuzu. I’m just saying that yes, you’re definitely grown up. Too damn grown up, if you ask me.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I like Zuzu. It reminds me of a simpler time.”

  “When?”

  “When you weren’t a woman.”

  I held my hands out. “Meaning?”

  “Come on, Zuzu.”

  “Seriously, it’s a horrifying nickname for a grown woman.” I put firmness behind my tone. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t fucking around.

  But then he smiled for the first time since I’d found him in my room. And his smile was the sun. Blazing hot, warming the skin. Making my heart flutter.

  “I will try.” His grin oozed arrogance mixed with amusement. A sexy sight that no woman couldn’t melt from.

  My voice went low. “You’ll try?”

  “Yes.” His hand went to my shoulder, picking up the end of my ponytail as he twirled the strands around his finger. “I’ll do my best to not say Zuzu.”

  I shivered under his attention but pretended like his touch didn’t affect me. “Thank you.”

  After being away from him for so many years, I needed a few more seconds of being in his towering presence and smelling his rich scent.

  “Hunter,” I whispered as he touched my hair some more. “I missed you.”

  “And I’ve missed you more than you could ever imagine.” He let my ponytail go and opened the door for me. “Are you ready?”

  If you missed me so much, then why has it been so long since we’ve talked?

  I held in the question and the little hurt that started to rise. Hunter was just being him. Not one thing had changed about him. He ordered, he didn’t suggest. He conquered, he didn’t ask.

  Anytime Hunter was around, I knew I was protected and safe.

  “Yeah. I’m ready.” I glanced down at my robe. “I just need five minutes to change.”

  “Take your time.” He closed the door.

  4

  Confessions from a Stalker

  BROKENHEARTED

  I’ve fallen apart. I’m so alone.

  It took me several minutes to shower, change, and head to the closest seedy bar. There, beers flowed. Weed smoke dangled in the air, but still that dark gloom settled over me. Wall-to-wall people jammed to a reggae beat, yet an intense weight of loneliness hit me.

  It never mattered how packed the spot was.

  Even among the crowd, I was alone.

  Could I keep myself busy with fucking and killing?

  I took a swig of my beer, glanced up at the television, and froze with the bottle in mid-air.

  Zola smiled on the screen.

  Hmmm. Would the gods be this obvious?

  Zola spun around, and my heart ached. It was a commercial for pocket books. She kept lighting a cigarette throughout it.

  I’d begun watching her for the past four weeks now. I knew those midnight curls. That lush brown skin. I knew the shape and the fullness of those lips, although I’d never kissed her. Just watched her as she slept.

  Staring at the commercial, I gazed into her bright eyes,

  I didn’t see salvation.

  Emptiness grew inside of me.

  I will do this to create balance.

  Seeing her in this bar meant something. I’d already been planning and planning. It was just that tonight…I’d considered stopping the entire fiasco. For a minute, I’d believed that these actions might go too far.

  But my true salvation would only come from death.

  Zola was the key.

  She would turn the lock.

  The door would open.

  I would walk through, and no longer would my heart break.

  The commercial ended. I glanced up at the ceiling.

  Are you that obvious? What do you want me to do?

  The gods didn’t answer.

  I returned to my beer.

  The sharp crack of a cue came on my right. I checked it. A few pool balls scattered across worn green felt. A beautiful blonde aimed at the eight ball. I tuned out the reggae music, chatter, and laughter.

  The blonde’s friend sat next to the pool table. She had long, sable hair. Our gazes met, and there was a lusty invitation in the way she looked at me. She wore a pink jean skirt that barely covered her thighs. Her top was loose, displaying the large curve of her breasts. A fuck-me smile curved her lips.

  Stunned, she rose from her chair and strolled my way. It was clear she wanted to have some fun tonight, and I was thankful she was ready to play.

  “Would you like a drink?” She leaned on the bar right next to me, licking her lips.

  “No, I’m heading home.” I drank her in. “Maybe you can come home with me and have a drink there?”

  “That sounds like fun. My name’s Tina.”

  Too easy. I’d always held the magic of women in my fingers. Too bad I can’t have the one I want.

  Not even talking anymore, I guided Tina out of the bar and to my car. She didn’t even tell her friend she was leaving. Perhaps they’d discussed it before she walked over to me.

  She jumped in my car with no problem and I sped off. She chatted, telling me that her husband was out of town. I barely listened, unable to keep that damn commercial of Zola and pocketbooks out of my head.

  When we hit my place, there wasn’t much else to discuss.

  “When does your husband return?” I asked.

  Tina batted her eyes. “Tomorrow morning.”

  I undid my pants. “That’s enough time for you to suck my dick, and for me to make you scream.”

  “It is.” She grinned.

  My belt fell to the floor. Then, my pants. My boxer briefs were the only thing t
hat remained.

  Excitement blazed in her eyes. “Is your dick as big as your size suggests?”

  My seven foot height guaranteed I towered over almost everyone. I’d gotten my girth from my dad as well as his black hair, rounded face, and huge shoulders. The rest came from my mom—brown eyes, pointed nose, and bubbling rage clawing to get out of my chest.

  I was glad I didn’t get anything else from them.

  Tina waited for my response to her question about the size of my dick. But I was lost in the motion of her tongue sliding along her lips.

  I barely recognized my own voice as I whispered, “Take it out.”

  She did, not even thinking about what it would do to her husband.

  This will stop the pain for now.

  Tina licked her lips as she pulled my cock out, gasping with each revealed inch.

  “I want you to put my dick deep down your throat.” I touched her chin and lifted her view. “Can you do that for me?”

  She widened her eyes. “God, yes.”

  I gritted my teeth, craving to sink my dick deep into Tina’s cunt.

  My phone rang.

  Tina pouted. “Turn it off.”

  “Make it worth my while.”

  With no hesitation, she sucked my dick in and began to go to work.

  My fucking phone rang again.

  “Don’t worry. I’m turning it off.” With one hand, I cupped the back of her head, guiding her into a perfect rhythm. Her mouth warmed my dick, wetting it. I groaned as her lips stretched wide to get all of me.

  That’s right.

  My balls drew up tight. I needed to cum. “Pull those panties down and touch your pussy.”

  She did.

  I noticed the wet spot on her panties before she slid them down. My phone went off again right as her fingers toyed with her clit. Such beautiful small circles over that lovely bud.

  “Fuck, Tina.” I gripped her hair a little harder and pumped in and out of her mouth.

  The damn phone made itself known.

  Fuck you.

  Tina groaned in delight.

  Fuck.

  My whole body relaxed. Tina moaned around my dick, her eyes falling closed.

  Relishing in her wet, warmth, I pumped my hips faster. She sucked her cheeks, hollowing them out. She began to strum her clit like a guitar. I turned off my phone, right before she pulled my dick out of her mouth and moaned.

  “Coming already?” I groaned.

  She gazed up at me with pleading eyes. “Screw me.”

  I did, wearing a condom and replacing her face with another. I slammed that dick into her wet hole, and right before I came close to busting, I wrapped my hands around her neck and squeezed.

  And then I thrust that dick into her hard, watching her choke and her body quake. “Life doesn’t always go as it should, Tina.”

  Those nipples bobbled as she struggled to be released.

  “Never go home with a stranger.” I pumped my dick into her more.

  She scratched at my arms.

  “Never fuck on the first night.” My orgasm was so close. Right at the tip of my dick. “Never, ever, cheat on your husband.”

  I came quick, let go of her neck, and rolled over to the other side of the bed, shivering from the small release.

  Gasping, Tina grabbed her neck as if trying to get as much oxygen in her lungs as possible. Seconds later, she rolled away, fell off the bed, and hit the floor with a boom. But she didn’t let the pain get in the way. She raced to the door, not even grabbing her shoes or dress.

  The door slammed.

  Her pocketbook sat on the table. I doubted she’d go to the police, and it didn’t matter anyway. First, she would need some close. Second, would’ve had to explain why she was on the other side of town in a seedy motel with a strange man from a bar. Third, the island’s cops would know the hotel and the room, and not even come this way.

  They don’t want to deal with me tonight.

  I yanked the condom off, slung it on the dresser, and turned on the television.

  Zola’s commercial played again.

  I raised the volume.

  The commercial was for Natural Health cigarettes. They’d been playing all over the place. The tobacco company’s logo appeared—a solid green square with a white leaf drawn in the center.

  Another woman’s voice rode the images of Zola smoking pale green cigarettes. “Natural Health cigarettes provides your body with what it needs, lowering stress as well as strengthening your immune system.”

  Zola walked slowly down the beach and gazed out at the sunset. A cigarette dangled from her fingers.

  The narrator added. “Natural Health uses medicinal tobacco to—”

  I muted the television and watched Zola.

  Another scene appeared. She jogged down a wooded path, stopped, wiped the sweat from her face, and pulled out a cigarette.

  Words showed up at the bottom of the screen. “Why not have Natural Health today?”

  This must be a yes. I saw her twice in one day. This is a good sign.

  Regardless of what had happened in these past months, I would continue my plan.

  The day has come.

  5

  Love Requires Rules

  Hunter

  Zola declared, “I’m a woman now.”

  She’d stood before me in that black and white bikini. I’d seen band aids that were bigger. And those silver-tipped heels hadn’t helped the situation either. I wanted to fuck her with those on. I couldn’t believe I’d made it through that dressing room ordeal without tearing off her clothes and licking between those thick thighs.

  The urge came. It rose inside of my chest. No matter how much I tried to be normal—to be right. This thick sludge coursed in my veins, pushing for me to taste the woman I’d always craved.

  No. Calm down.

  Thank God Zola changed clothes, and we went to the car. I’d rented one with a driver to take us around until I handled her stalker problem. Zola and I sat in the back. However, I had underestimated how being so close to her would affect me.

  I’d watched her climb into the car—one of my many mistakes. Thankfully, she’d ditched the bikini. Now she had on form-fitting jeans and a sky-blue top that had thin material and was unable to hide the lush breasts moving against the fabric. And dear God, her nipples pushed the soft fabric too.

  Why must it always be this way around Zola?

  I hadn’t been given good parents. I created a family by living with hers. I appreciated them. I did what they said.

  Love required rules.

  You just want what you can’t have?

  Sometimes I didn’t think it was that simple. Sometimes I thought it was more. Sometimes, I even considered taking her and seeing what would happen. And sometimes, I punked out and pushed the thought away.

  Why is killing easier than forgiving? Why am I quick to hate, and scared to love?

  I was sure my mom had something to do with it. Since losing me, she’d been in and out of jail—drug charges and theft. After joining the military and gaining my special skills, I’d looked her up. Mom had graduated to double homicide and sat on death row.

  “Come here! You piece of shit! Ten years old, and you can’t stop breaking dishes!” She ashed her cigarette on the carpet. “Always wanting. Always fucking wanting. I have no one here helping us. I’m working every day! Do you see your father here?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Do you see your piece of shit grandparents here?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Nobody cares about you. Nobody cares about me or us.” She slapped me. “And you break my glass because you’re mad you have to wash dishes?”

  I didn’t answer. It would be stupid to answer. I would get slapped again for answering. I didn’t cry either. That would get a harder one—a gut wrenching one. And I didn’t tell her it was a mistake, because it wasn’t one.

  I didn’t even tell her the truth, that she’d come in drunk last night a
nd broke the glass herself.

  Buddha. Jesus.

  “I’m the only one here! And you! Wanting! Always fucking wanting!”

  Yahweh. Jehovah.

  I tasted blood on my tongue and shook within my frame, fisting my hands, yelling the names of different gods in my head, and hoping any one of them would appear.

  Zeus. Allah.

  “Wanting! Always wanting! And you don’t do nothing but eat and shit!”

  Brahman. Shiva.

  Thank all the gods for York, Mrs. Ellen, and Zola.

  The first day I arrived at the Lawsons’s house to live there, I was so overjoyed to not be scared at night, to not fear another waking me up in the most violent ways. I knew they would be good. They’d treat me right.

  One of the gods had answered my prayers.

  I learned the rules. I memorized them. I did good in school. I washed, cleaned, and laundered, when no one asked me too. When York bitched about having to watch his whiney little sister, I volunteered instead. Because of that, Zola and I spent many days together during many summers, while York chased virgin tail. Barely fourteen years old by then, York had gone girl-crazy.

  And when it came to Mrs. Ellen, I damn near stalked her, so happy to feel her love bathed on my skin—her smiles, her encouragement.

  At times, the love felt too good. I had to run into my room, hide under my covers in the fetal position, and cry. Sometimes they just loved me too much, and it felt so goddamn amazing, as it vibrated through me and made my teeth clatter. I didn’t understand the new feelings, and I never knew what to do, but hide.

  Then, Zuzu would come to my room and lay in my bed. Tears would cover her face. She would lay next to me, never touching or saying a word, yet her spirit calmed me. It refreshed me. And I would get back up without saying anything either and return to what we’d all been doing. And no one ever made me feel wrong for being so odd.

  And so, I did my best to not break the rules—not lose their love.