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Leaves rustle and skitter behind me from two sets of feet belonging to two very determined men.
“When we catch you, Hellcat, I’m going to pound into that sweet pussy until you can’t walk straight,” Cyrus hollers from behind me.
“Gotta catch me first, Cy.” I barrel through the forest, dodging low-hanging branches. I laugh as I glance behind me to see Cyrus huffing in pursuit.
“How the fuck are you so fast?” he wheezes, grabbing his chest.
“Perhaps you should sit this one out, Cy.” Zeke chuckles as he runs past him, chasing me through the trees. “Let the big boy handle it.”
Carefree laughter bubbles out of me. I’m always light around the guys. It’s as if they possess magic, allowing all the troubles plaguing me to melt away. Moments like this make me want to stay, but then I remember that not all women experience what I have.
My world crashes around me as I contemplate the girls in Afghanistan and Iran and the girls in America sold to men who abuse them. I can only be with my guys in fleeting moments because I have important work to do. Those girls need me more than my boys.
My brother calls this bullshit survivor’s guilt, and maybe he’s right. But everything is down to chance first and choice second. I could’ve been a child bride sold by a desperate single mother who had multiple mouths to feed. I could’ve been born to a misogynistic man who believed that my life as a woman was meaningless. But I was lucky to be born to my mother, a woman who escaped oppression and braved the desert with three children.
“You’ve been practicing for a marathon,” Zeke yells, humor lacing in his voice.
“Thought you said you were a big boy and could handle it,” I holler back as I dodge a branch and jump over a shrub.
I glance behind me when Zeke doesn’t retort with a smart comment. I don’t see the guys and foolishly assume I’ve outrun or concealed myself for the moment. I turn to gain a greater advantage when I collide with a hard frame.
Zeke wraps his arms around me, turning me and holding me to his chest. His nose glides along my neck as he inhales audibly like an animal scenting me. “I said you got better, Princess. I never said you got better than me.”
This is check, but it’s not mate.
My feet lift off the ground, and I push back hard against Zeke’s chest, giving him my full weight. He releases me as he stumbles, and I run.
“Gotta be better than that, Zeke. Your girl has been training with the best of the best in Jujitsu. I’m gonna revive the Hashashin.”
Zeke laughs, and twigs snap behind me as he pursues.
I kick one of the trees, showing off the acrobatic wonder of the Asian martial arts I’ve learned over the years. My body swoops and dances with nature and the surrounding elements, demonstrating to Zeke and anyone else watching that I’ll only be caught because I want to. My gaze darts around me, gauging where my boys might be. I’m startled when I glimpse the dark Italian wool of a gray three-piece suit and immediately stop in my tracks.
Lev.
He leans against a large elm tree, arms crossed over his broad chest. Wisps of black hair fall over his pretty gray eyes as he watches me. A regular old peeping tom.
Before I can say anything, I’m tackled onto the ground, and Zeke’s deep voice rumbles, “Gotcha,” in my ear.
I twist in the dirt below me, remembering the game as his beautiful face hovers above mine.
Zeke sniffs me again. “Fuck, you smell so good. Do you have any idea what it’s like to get hard from someone’s scent?”
It’s immensely erotic when a man finds your scent so desirable he could lose his ever-loving mind. It’s always been like that with Zeke. Even when we were kids, he made me feel like I was the center of his universe. This man, without even knowing me, came to my rescue. Zeke showed me it was possible to trust a man who wasn’t my departed father or brother. Lying on the earth and gazing into his warm blue eye, I’m confident this man will never forsake me, no matter what I do. But I know I’m not ready to give him everything he deserves.
“How good?” I tease, wiggling beneath him as his hard, thick cock strains against me.
Zeke nips at my neck, sucking the delicate flesh and unleashing a lust to be marked by him. To wear his need and desire on my skin like armor, like a brand.
“Good enough to eat, baby,” Zeke murmurs. “You always smell good enough to eat.”
He works his way across my neck, kissing my face. Zeke always leads to aggression via tenderness. Guilt still lives within him, even after all these years. He worries that I'll resent him if he doesn’t show me he loves me first. But I won’t. I harbor only love and admiration for him.
I grab his face, forcing his eyes to mine. “I know you love me.” I say the words with force and confidence. I don’t want him to have any doubt that I need it hard, dirty, raw, and fast. “I’m safe here. You’re safe here. We are safe here.”
He nods before his lips brush the hollow of my neck, and he skinks his teeth into my flesh with a vicious desire. My screams amplify as his hand moves to my breasts, kneading them with violence and inflicting pain.
Zeke grabs my hair, yanking my head back to give himself better access. The sting on my scalp is an aphrodisiac, bringing me to new heights.
