“No, everything’s fine,” Michael says. “He told me to go home, that you’d be okay, but I had to go see someone anyway. I was passing by here and thought I’d check in on you.”
“You had to see someone, huh?” I let my amusement color my voice. I’ve had a sneaking suspicion Michael has been seeing someone for a while now, but he’s a private guy. He hasn’t cracked, even under the most intense questioning. I guess, amongst other, more violent reasons, that’s why Zeth likes to keep him around.
“It was business,” he says, biting back a smile.
“Yeah. I bet it was.”
“Seriously.”
“I bet it was dirty business.”
“Which involves?”
“Your penis. And paddles. Maybe a hard-core dominatrix called Madame Payne. And probably a lot of sweat.”
“I think you’re confusing my sex life with yours.”
“Are you calling Zeth a hard-core dominatrix?”
“Not within earshot.”
I laugh, not pushing him any further. One of these days he’ll tell me. Or maybe he won’t. Maybe there’s always going to be a side to Michael I don’t know. I doubt he tells Zeth anything either.
We drive in comfortable silence up the winding roads that lead to the house; when we pull up outside, the place is dark, not a single light on inside. I can already hear the rhythmic thwack, thwack, thwack that tells me my antsy other half is out the back, indulging in his favorite pastime while I’m not around. I sigh, leaning across the car to give Michael a swift kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for bringing me home.”
“No problem. Have a good night, Ms. Romera.”
I wish he would call me Sloane. No matter how many times I tell him, it never seems to stick. Instead of letting myself inside the house, I skirt around the side, heading for the woods out back. He’s there, shirtless and sweating, a gas lamp burning at his feet, as he brings up the ax in his hands and swings it down onto the block of wood in front of him.
I don’t even have an open fire. Zeth just likes hitting things with axes.
“There she is,” he rumbles. I’ve been silent as a mouse, but of course he knows I’m behind him. He rests the ax head on the ground, angling his head toward me. I’m a hopeless case. No matter how many times I see this man partially undressed, I can’t help but stare at him. He’s so perfect. His body is perfection. The sweat-slicked muscles in his back shift ever so slightly as he leans his weight to one side, waiting for me to reach him. If I were capable of controlling myself around him, I would maybe kiss him lightly on the mouth in greeting and ask him what he’s been doing all day. The embarrassing thing is that I’m not capable of controlling myself around him, though. I find myself slowly licking the groove in between his shoulder blades, my tongue exploding with the taste of the salt in his sweat, my hands itching to touch him as he rocks his head back and groans.
“I liked your text message,” I whisper.
“Thought you might.” Zeth spins around grabs hold of me before I have a chance to say anything else. I like being tall, but I also love the way Zeth makes me feel small when he takes hold of me. Small and protected. Completely overpowered. Giving myself over to him, so that he knows he has dominion over me, wasn’t an easy task, but when he grabs hold of me like this and makes me feel like I’m his, now I feel complete. He wraps his strong arms around me and growls into the curve of skin where my neck meets my collarbone.
“You smell like sin,” he whispers.
“Mmm?”
“You want me. I can fucking smell it on you.” He nips me with his teeth, hard enough to make me gasp.
“Maybe I do.”
“You want me to fuck you, angry girl? ‘Cause I’m not opposed to the idea. And neither is my dick.” His hot breath sends searing vibrations shooting through my body. The sound I make in the back of my throat is loud and embarrassing, but it seems to spur Zeth on. His hands work their way underneath my sweater, his fingers skating over the skin of my belly, up, up, up until he reaches the swell of my breast.
“You have to say it, Sloane. I want to hear you tell me how badly you want me.”
“I do want you. I need you. I need you inside me. Please…”
Zeth traces the line of my jaw with his free hand, and then he tilts my head back with his thumb, so that I’m looking up into his dark, fierce eyes. “Are you going to do what I tell you to?” he asks. “Because I need you to be a good girl for me, Sloane.”
He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, staring at my mouth. He constantly surprises me with what dark, sexual things run through his head. I can never guess what he’s thinking. If he were another guy, I’d assume he was thinking about me wrapping my mouth around his cock right now, but it’s never that simple with Zeth. He’s complicated in his desires. A small frown flickers across that savagely beautiful face of his. Pain rockets through me as he pinches and rolls my nipple through the thin lace of my bra.