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It meant play slowly, roll and rub, tease it gently until my knees shook and I begged for release.
I didn’t dare disobey for fear he wouldn’t give me what I wanted.
He pushed inside me, the place only his fingers and toys had explored so far.
I shouted, and he stilled, taking a handful of my hair to tilt my head back.
“I’m going to keep going unless you use your words.”
“Fuck me,” I begged. Then grinned. “Are those the words you were waiting for?”
He bit down on my shoulder. A punishment but a weak one, because he knew it felt good. There was a chuckle in his voice when he said, “Exactly what I wanted to hear.”
The first full slide of him there was ecstasy. Exactly what I needed. I rubbed my clit while he grabbed my hips and took me with gentle slides, each one giving me time to get used to the size of him, but with the added benefit of driving me wild. After four or five thrusts, I was taking him easily, no resistance, all pleasure. I ground back against his base, letting him bottom out inside me, and panted around my moans. I drove my fingers up inside myself, my pussy tight with him inside my ass. I stroked my G-spot and then my clit, alternating while his dick drove me higher and higher up the pleasure scale, my building orgasm so intense my legs shook.
“Zeph!”
The orgasm curled around the places we were joined, spreading out like wildfire when I stroked myself. I moaned and shouted and shook, barely hanging on while he picked up the pace, fucking me fast, taking me hard.
Bright spots swam in my eyes when he pushed my hand away and took over control of my clit, his dick spasming inside me. I came again, everything squeezing tight around him and sending him over the edge with a shout that drowned out mine.
His chest came down on top of my back, covering me with a light sheen of his sweat. He waited until he was limp inside me and then pulled out, his cum coating us both in a sticky mess.
I didn’t care. I would never care. All I wanted was him and the way he made me feel. Safe. Secure. Loved. I’d once thought I was too independent to want a man in my life, but Zeph had always made me want things I shouldn’t.
He was no longer forbidden. There was no hiding the love between us.
He was the unholy sin I’d never be ashamed of.
EPILOGUE
AUGIE
Family night at the club was never a quiet or small event. Even before the cop had come along and whisked Eve off her stripper heels, family night had drawn a different crowd each week. Sometimes Lyric brought Amelia and her gran. Sometimes Terry relaxed from guarding the door to twirl his wife around the dance floor while Eve and her musician friends jammed. Terry’s kids always looked horrified when they did that, which I quite enjoyed. Dylan, Eve’s younger brother, had started hanging around in recent months, he and Phoenix sitting side by side, watching the action from the edges of the room. It was a free-for-all. If you knew someone, you would be welcomed with open arms.
Because there was always room for more in Eve’s heart.
Mine was dead.
Black.
Cold.
But I hadn’t been in the mood for one of Eve’s lectures, and the idea of one of her homemade feasts was too good to pass up. My house was a mess of takeout wrappers, and the only thing in the refrigerator was a bottle of Coke to go with the bottle of Jack on the countertop.
But Lyric was right. I had to stop living in this fucking limbo Fawn’s disappearance had created. And I would. I was here, wasn’t I?
Something felt different lately. When I watched my brother with his family, I’d once felt nothing but anger because they were tying him down, saddling him with responsibilities he was too young for. It was the same stupid shit my parents had done. Fall in love young. Have babies before you were ready for them. Then get sick of them when the responsibilities got too much.
That was how Banjo and I had been dumped in foster care. As soon as I’d turned eighteen, I’d started the fight to get him out. That had meant a job. A house. I’d gotten those things, but the job barely paid the rent. It wasn’t enough to feed myself, let alone a growing ten-year-old kid.
I couldn’t let him go back into care.
Not after the shit that had happened to me in there.
So I’d done what needed to be done. I’d sold drugs. My body. My entire fucking self-worth.
None of it mattered, as long as Banjo was out of the system.
