“I think we're both millennials actually,” I say, but I don't really care about any of it. The Labyrinth—which I have seen, thank you very much—or millennials, but I'm all twisted up inside and I can't quite think clearly right now.
Zayden stands up and claps his hands together, using his foot to open the oven door. Inside, there's some sort of … pie?
“What the hell is that?” I ask as he pulls it out and presents it to me. There's a shiny latticework crust on top and everything. Whoa. Fancy. “Did you … make that?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely. Google, baby. Google will tell you everything. I could make a goddamn rocket ship with instructions off that damn search engine.”
“So … what is it?” I ask, crossing my arms over myself and letting my body sink into Zay's hoodie. It's soft and clean and smells just like him, that blackberry/cinnamon smell that I like so much. I'm painfully aware of my lower half though, of how naked I still am, how wet between the thighs. I tuck the fabric down as Zay raises an eyebrow and sets the pie on the counter.
“Chicken pot pie, Smarty-Pants. I'm making us plates and we're watching the fucking Labyrinth. If you can't recognize Jareth at first sight, you've got some serious issues, kid.”
“Zayden,” I start, but then I have no idea what to say, curling my fingers over my knees, pressing my fingertips into my skin until the flesh turns a pale white. I glance up to find him standing at the counter, slowly spooning food into a pair of bowls. His movements are awkward and weird, but when he glances over his shoulder, he's smiling again.
“A musical from the eighties with puppets. Doesn't get much better than that, right?”
I stand up from the chair, letting the hoodie fall over my ass; it's so big, I'm swimming in it.
My arms slide around Zayden's waist and I rest my cheek against his bare back. With a soft sigh, he drops the serving spoon back into the glass pie pan and turns around to look at me, his eyes suddenly dark, his expression taking me in with a slow careful intensity.
When Zay drops his hand to my face and lifts my chin, I close my eyes, savoring the feel of his mouth against mine. As soon as our lips connect, the atmosphere in the room amps up considerably. Zay turns us around and lifts me with an easy motion, setting my ass on the edge of the counter.
With a frantic flick of his hands, he opens his jeans and then digs another condom out of his pocket. How many of those fucking things does he keep in there? I don't have a lot of time to contemplate that because Zay's yanking me forward and guiding himself to my opening, shoving hard and fast inside.
My pulse skyrockets, and I find my breath escaping in small, harsh gasps as he drags me forward and pins my pelvis against the curved edge of the linoleum counter. Unlike the trampoline or the bed, there's absolutely no give when he thrusts forward, hitting me hard and deep with the thick solid length of his shaft.
My head spins, my hands thrown loosely around Zay's neck as I press our foreheads together and he makes a sharp sound in the back of his throat. It's a wild noise, harsh and desperate, kind of like his frantic motions, like the whimper that builds in the back of my own throat.
When the friction of his body against mine sends me over the edge, Zay bites down on that curved space between my neck and shoulder and empties himself with a deep, quivering growl that I can feel all the way in my bones.
I lean back away from him, noticing that the glitter from my breasts has rubbed off all over his face.
“Holy sweet baby Jesus,” he whispers as he looks at me with some sort of awe in his face, blinking quickly and then sliding out of me, turning away while he removes the condom and fixes his pants. “You've got some sort of magic in you, Brooke Overland,” he says with a glance over his shoulder.
I smile, but I don't have a response to that statement.
“Puppets?” I ask because I'm shaking and twisting and falling inside. Falling for Zayden Roth.
Zay nods and lets his mouth curve up into one of his signature smiles.
“You got it, doll,” he says, helping me hop down from the counter.
We eat our food, watch the movie, and end up fucking through the last half of it.
It's seriously the best night of my entire life. Guess nothing can last forever though, can it?
Aww, man.
I am like totally crazy, head over heels fucking obsessed with Brooke Overland.
I never smoke. Seriously. Never. Unleeeeeeess, I'm having a day as shitty as this one.