Zeke's Eden: The Beginning (Zeke and Eden Book 1)

by K. Webster

  I want her tentative fingers touching me everywhere.

  “I said I don’t need anything,” she tells me with a more firm bite to her tone but her hands don’t leave my chest.

  Her jet black hair is cut in an oblong blunt manner, just under her chin and it bounces every time she speaks. The hairstyle, so brave and bold, doesn’t fit her shy demeanor, pale skin, or bright blue eyes.

  Ignoring her attempt to keep me away from her, I brush a strand of hair away from her face that somehow had become stuck to her shiny Barbie pink lips. “You need me,” I tell her in a smug tone which only serves to redden her cheeks further.

  A small breath escapes her and her attempt to keep me away from her weakens. If it weren’t for Grant killing my ass, I’d toss her over my shoulder and haul her upstairs. Pushing toward her, I grin when her palms slide down to my sides and her chin lifts to regard me. I rest my palms on either side of her head against the wall and dip my mouth to her ear.

  “I get off at two,” I breathe into her hair that hangs over her ear. “You should come upstairs. I would be more than fucking happy to entertain you all night long.”

  She gasps and I grin but a squeal from beside us grates at my nerves, ruining the moment.

  “E—I mean, Michelle.” The woman giggles. “You sure didn’t waste any time. What a hottie!”

  The annoying woman is bouncing up and down in stilettos nearly as tall as she is. Long, red waves hang down her front framing her ample tits which are spilling out of her top. She’s pretty, but the one I still have caged in front of me is much more beautiful.

  “I, uh, Romy,” Michelle whines from in front of me. “He works here. We were just talking.”

  Romy laughs some more and I reluctantly step away from Michelle. Her hands fall to her side and her lips purse together in a pout. I’d like to think that she feels just as disappointed as I do about having to step away from her.

  “Come see me at the bar,” I tell them both. “I’ll give you the hook-up on some free drinks.”

  My eyes lock on Michelle’s blazing blue ones. “And don’t forget about what I said.”

  I take pride in the way the red from her cheeks spreads down her neck toward her chest. It makes me wonder where else she turns red. Before I do something regrettable like drag her upstairs to see, I wink and turn on my heels.

  By the end of the night, I’ll have that woman eating out of my hand. And then later, I’ll take my turn eating.

  As the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on saunters away, I take a deep breath to regroup. His scent, masculine and clean, lingers in the air and I enjoy the elation it leaves with it. My thoughts are utterly sinful as I imagine things that would get me in trouble in my world.

  “Seriously, Eden, that guy was hot,” Rebecca gushes. “Did you kiss him?”

  Heat skates over my bare upper chest and I gape at her in horror. “No, but I wanted to.”

  Rebecca’s normally chocolate, shoulder length locks have been hidden beneath her red, vixen wig and I almost laugh at how different she looks. Not that I have room to talk. My long, golden waves have been carefully pinned away under the sassy, black bob I’m sporting.

  Daddy would croak if he saw me right now.

  He’d call me a prostitute.

  I’m sure he’d push his highlighted verses in his bible in front of my face and force it down my throat until I begged for forgiveness. The Lord always forgives. Daddy, not so much.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Rebecca chatters and jerks her head down the hallway toward the bar commotion. Neither of us have been in a bar before but we’ve been planning this for months now. The day she turned eighteen, I promised to go incognito with her and let loose for a night. Through some questionable means, which Rebecca refuses to tell me about, she obtained two fake IDs for us. It was fun dressing the part but deep down we’re both nervous and a bit shell-shocked at the loud music and atmosphere.

  “Do you think anyone recognizes me?” I question and chew on my bottom lip, stealing a glance down the hallway.

  She shakes her head and laughs. “No, babe, the only people who would recognize you, aren’t hanging out in a bar. Your dad is well-known but he’s not Justin Bieber.”

  I smile at her. “Oh my goodness, if he heard you say that he’d die.”

  Daddy is not only a televangelist pastor for our church, Ellington Church of Christ, but he’s also known in the Christian circuit for his philanthropic and multiple worldwide ministries. Quite frankly, Daddy is a Christian television powerhouse.

  “Come on, let’s take Hottie up on his offer for some free drinks,” she babbles and bounces down the hallway.

  She looks great in her short, Aztec-patterned dress that showcases her slender legs. As I follow her, I glance down at my outfit and frown. I’ll never be adorable like Rebecca. My best friend looks great in whatever she wears. Her father, a deacon at our church, is more lenient on her and allows her freedom to wear anything as long as it is tasteful. Daddy, on the other hand, won’t allow dresses or shorts above the knee. Tank tops and strapless dresses are utterly sinful in his eyes. When in his presence, I dutifully wear what he approves of.

  But tonight…

  Tonight I’m wearing a short black skirt that barely covers my bottom, high wedged heels, and a sparkly gold tank top. I felt pretty earlier when we got ready at Rebecca’s, but now I simply feel like an imposter.

  The moment I emerge from the hallway, my eyes search the bar for the man who scrambled my mind only moments before. When he came out of that bathroom, I was snared in his sinful trap that bubbled with ill intentions and lust. Had Rebecca not come out when she did, I’m afraid of what I’d have allowed to happen.

  My eyes finally land on emerald, almost angry, eyes and I swallow my fear of him. With tattoos that crawl up his neck, muscles that threaten to rip his tight shirt, and a hungry glare, he’s almost scary.

  A girl like me does not know what to do with a man like him.

  But he’d know what to do with you…

  My skin heats again at my naughty thoughts and I drag my gaze from his, choosing the floor in front of me instead. Although I’m not looking at him, I sense his eyes drinking up everything about me.

  Rebecca snags my bangle-clad wrist and hauls me behind her until we’re both sitting side by side on two stools at the bar. I risk a glance at him only to find him staring right at me, his massive palms splayed out on the bar in front of me. He leans in and somehow manages to draw out a whimper on my part.

  “What can I get you? Sex on the Beach, Red-Headed Slut,” he says and flicks a glance at Rebecca before turning back to me, “Sex on My Face?”

  My jaw pops open and I’m stunned at his confusing yet bold words. “Huh?”

  Rebecca chuckles, clearly the more street wise of the two of us. “They’re drink names, Michelle,” she heavily drawls out my fake name that she chose for me. “Sex on My Face for my friend and Red-Headed Slut of course for me.”

  He smirks at me and I decide it’s the single most hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. His dark brow is quirked up in a playful way that dizzies me.

  “Check their IDs,” a brunette bites out as she shoulders past him. His chest ripples at her touch and for a moment I’m jealous at her effect on him. That is, until I see the murderous glare he sends after her.

  “IDs please,” he growls and snaps his head back to stare at me.

  I swallow and with shaky hands dig around in my wristlet until I find the fake ID. When I hold it out to him, his powerful fingers graze mine as he takes it from me and I shiver.

  “Twenty-six, huh?” he questions with an unconvinced huff.

  Nodding like a bobble head, I hope that I seem older than my barely eighteen-year-old self. Three weeks ago, I had to spend my birthday at Lee Hanio’s, a five-star Japanese steakhouse. Had Rebecca and I not had our outing for her birthday planned already, I’d have gone crazy from having to celebrate my eighteenth birthday by not
experiencing freedom but yet again being gripped in Daddy’s strict clutches.

  Tonight we’re free.

  Rebecca says she’s going to have sex with someone tonight.

  I most certainly am not having sex, no matter how much the man before me intrigues me. But I still can’t get his invitation out of my head.

  “The name’s Zeke. Zeke Wilder.” That’s the only response I get as he hands my card back to me. Rebecca launches into a conversation with a guy beside her and Zeke doesn’t even bother checking her ID before sauntering off to make our drinks.

  I stare after him and devour the way the black fabric encases his extremely toned back and shoulders. My fingers twitch with the desire to touch him again.

  My boyfriend of two years, Parker, has never elicited not a single spark inside of me. His kisses, although more and more frequent now that we’re both eighteen, are short and boring. I’ve wondered what it would feel like for him to touch me somewhere other than my hand but he never tries. And I never ask. Half the time, I wonder if he dates me to suck up to my daddy.

  Parker is a perfect gentleman and boy does Daddy adore him. Mom even mentioned the other day while Daddy and Parker were golfing that she was only eighteen when she and my father were married. Her blessing to marry Parker was loud and clear.

  Too bad I wanted to stick my fingers in my ears and ignore her words.

  Parker is nice but the thought of a life with him feels like I’m extending my captivity under Daddy’s stern reign. For once I’d like to fly free. Wear what I want. Say what I want. Kiss who I want. Touch who I—

  “Sex on My Face, beautiful?”

  I groan at seeing Zeke holding a tall, skinny cocktail glass filled to the brim with an orangey-red colored liquid. Sneaking a glance over at my best friend, I sigh at seeing her guzzling her drink.

  “Thank you,” I mutter as I take the glass from him.

  Rebecca and I recently went to a party that started out as a bible study between friends and ended up with everyone sampling the liquors from Joel’s dad’s stash. I’d had a killer headache the next day, so I’m unsure how I’ll like this drink since the alcohol was strong and disgusting the last time I partook.

  Wrapping my lips around the straw, I suck in the sweet liquid and am pleased to find that it doesn’t taste anything like the stuff we drank straight from the bottle at Joel’s.

  “This is so good,” I praise and lift my eyes back up at Zeke.

  My chest heats once again upon realization that his eyes are skimming the exposed skin there. The man watches me as if he might like a taste of me. The idea only further embarrasses me.

  I’m sucking away when his fingers brush over mine and he leans toward me. “Slow down, sugar, or I’m going to have to carry you upstairs.”

  My eyes widen and I slip my lips off the straw. “I, uh, I’m not going upstairs with you. There’s no way I’d leave my friend.”

  He drags his gaze away from me and smirks at Rebecca. “Romy over there isn’t worried about you. I’d say by the way that guy is touching her thigh, she’s about three seconds from letting him finger her right here. She’s going home without you, sugar.”

  His matter-of-fact tone fuels a fire that’s been building since I first saw him. But he’s so sure and it annoys me.

  “She’s my best friend. We do everything together.” My tone is indignant and the alcohol that I couldn’t taste warms me from the inside.

  He laughs, a deep timbre that rattles its way through me, and I take a long sip of my drink to chase away the effect on me. “So you’re into threesomes or some shit?”

  “What? No!” I huff out.

  I’m pinned by a smoldering glower that flushes my skin and burns me from the inside out. “Good, because I’m not into sharing.”

  Thankfully, he’s torn away from me to help some belligerent men at the other end of the bar who are demanding service. It allows me time to compose myself.

  Could I really go upstairs with this man?

  Daddy would have a coronary.

  Parker might show some signs of life, anger even.

  The thought thrills me.

  At the same time, I’m terrified of what this man might do. That I might like it. That Daddy would lose his control over me and in turn, this man would have it.

  As I watch the delicious man who effortlessly pounds through drink orders—all the while keeping an eye in my direction—I stop and think about what I want.

  In another year’s time, I could be married to Parker with babies on the way. White picket fences and plastic smiles are my future.

  But the darkness that ripples from Zeke is as intoxicating as the now empty drink I’ve been sipping from. It draws me in. Twirls around and tempts me. Daddy always preaches about the devil and his sneaky ways.

  Is he tempting me now?

  Dangling a carrot of lust and sin to see if I’ll bite.

  Zeke flashes a grin that dampens my panties and I clench my thighs together.

  What if I want it to bite me instead?

  Four years in the pen will fuck with your head. I had plenty of time to obsess over shit like Robert Forrest, my disappointed parents, working out, and my research.

  And after a week of freedom, I’ve managed to distract myself from all of those things. This job has kept me busy and out of my head. But now—with Michelle—my head is on a never-ending loop of her.

  So fucking innocent.

  So beautiful.

  Her shy, coy demeanor only serves to get my dick hard. The woman thinks I’m playing around but I couldn’t be any more damn serious. Tonight, we’re fucking. I’m taking her every which way until she screams my name to the point of a prayer.

  “I’ll take another,” she pouts.

  My eyes zero in on her full lips and I can’t wait until they’re wrapped around my cock later.

  “Nah, I’m cutting you off.”

  Her unsure, blue eyes ignite with sudden ferocity. “What? You can’t do that!”

  I cross my arms across my chest and lean against the back of the bar, smirking at her. “I can and I will. You need to be coherent and fully aware of the things I’m going to do to you tonight. I want you to feel every single fucking orgasm I draw from you.”

  She gapes at me and tosses a glance at her friend who is getting way too fucked-up to care about helping her.

  “I’m not going upstairs with you,” she snaps and pins me with a heated glare.

  I laugh and shake my head. “I’ll bring you a Sprite.”

  She growls and dammit if it isn’t the cutest sound. “Asshole.”

  The insult sounds unrehearsed on her tongue and I bellow in laughter. “You’re fucking sexy as hell when you attempt to be feisty,” I call out as I fill a glass with soda.

  When I slide it in front of her, she tries the silent treatment on me and refuses to respond. Eventually, though, she gives in and sips on the Sprite. I toss a glance at her friend who is laughing and is barely sitting upright on the stool. The guy beside her keeps groping her tit and whispering things in her ear that makes her giggle. It irritates me that he’ll no doubt be taking advantage of her being drunk.

  I turn back to regard Michelle and she’s no longer pouting. She was watching me and I caught her which only serves to redden her flesh.

  Jesus, I want this fucking night over already so I can touch her.

  “Are you ready to leave?” Michelle whines from beside Romy.

  Her friend swirls around on her stool and nearly slips right off in the process. “Are y-y-you n-not having fun, Eden?” she stammers through her drunken haze.

  My ears perk up.

  Eden?

  Michelle’s eyes widen in horror and she cuts a glance over to me. She wants to see if I heard the name. Hell yes I heard it.

  “No, Romy,” she grits through her teeth. “You’re drunk and we need to leave.”

  Romy pouts but slides off the stool. “Okay. Where are my keys?”

  Rage explodes inside
of me at her words. There’s no fucking way this chick is driving.

  “Not so fast, Red. I’ll call you a cab,” I bark out.

  Michelle lifts her chin in defiance. “I can drive her back.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “Not fucking happening. You’ve been drinking too.”

  Her eyes bug out of her head and her lips purse together angrily. “Just who the hell do you think you are anyway? I had one drink—you made sure of that. I am not drunk!”

  Romy frowns at me. “She doesn’t know how to drive a stick though.”

  Michelle huffs out in frustration while I grab the cordless phone from the back bar. One phone call later and a cab is on its way to fetch the girl.

  “You’re an ass. It’s her birthday and you’re sending us on our way. We didn’t even have any fun,” Michelle gripes.

  Romy has now decided to make out with the guy beside her—clearly she’s having fun—and I shake my head. Leaning my elbows on the bar, I pin Michelle with a direct glare.

  “I’m an ass. So fucking what? And we haven’t had fun,” I say as I drop my gaze to her lips, “yet, Eden. You’re not going anywhere.”

  The moment the name rolls off my tongue, I gauge her reaction.

  Her blue eyes widen and she darts them all around to see if anyone heard. “Come on,” she hisses to her drunk friend, “Let’s go.”

  As she attempts to tug her friend away from the man she’s sucking face with, I jog over to Grant at the end of the bar.

  “Hey, man, do you think I could cut out early tonight?”

  He smirks and nods. “Go get you some, buddy. This place has died down and we’ll handle it without you. Don’t break her.”

  “Oh, I’ll definitely be breaking her. Thanks, Grant,” I grunt before stalking away from him.

  The women have made it halfway out of the building by the time I round the corner of the bar. Trotting after them, I ignore the catcalls of a few patrons and the bitching from Catherine about my leaving.

  They push through the doors and a blast of warm air greets me before I follow them.

  Thankfully, the cab isn’t here yet.