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He lets out a final groan and collapses against me.
“Fuck,” he growls as his hips stop moving, rolling to the side and letting out a long sigh.
I shuffle close to him and lay my head against his chest, eager to stay close to him as the aftershocks of the orgasm move through me.
“I told you, my little artist,” he says passionately, moving his hands through my hair so that tingles shiver across my scalp. “You didn’t need to worry.”
I hug closer to him. “Was I…”
“Hush,” he says. “You don’t need to ask me how you were. But if you really have to know…”
“I do.” I giggle. “I absolutely, one hundred percent have to.”
“Then you were incredible,” he growls. “Jesus Christ, the way you bounced for me. Give me a couple of minutes and we’ll go again, you gorgeous—”
His words are cut off by the fire alarm screeching through the building, sounding like nails on a chalkboard only a hundred times worse. I snap my hands up to cover my ears instinctively.
“For fuck’s sake,” Zack grumbles, letting out a growl. “Come on, Zoey. The building managers are real sticklers for evacuating when the fire alarm goes off. A few years back, they had an incident where they didn’t follow protocol and ended up getting sued. But the second we’re back—”
“Yes,” I yell, laughing over the sound of the alarm as I lean in and find his lips. I pause, holding my face close to his, stunned at the confidence that is bubbling up inside of me now that I’m no longer a virgin. “But this time, maybe I can lead the way, Zack?”
He lets out a snarling noise and pushes his lips against mine hard, opening his mouth so our tongues can go to war.
“I told you,” he says, his lips brushing against my cheek. “You don’t need to be shy. You don’t need to be nervous. There’s a confident sassy-as-fuck woman hiding inside of you, Zoey, and it’s my pleasure to draw that part of you out.”
Chapter Twenty
Zack
I lead Zoey down the staircase that leads from the upper penthouse floor to the ground floor. My body is still buzzing from the sex, my instincts roaring at me to claim her again right here, even as I tighten my hand on hers and lead her toward the exit.
Her touch sends shivering signals through me, my cock already rock hard even if we only just came together in a clashing fury of closeness.
I can’t believe my woman ever thought she was going to disappoint me.
The alarm blares all around us, but we must’ve taken a while getting dressed because we’re in the staircase alone. That might’ve had something to do with the fact that I kept kissing her as we were getting dressed, swept up in the momentum of what we had just shared, of the predator’s pounding in my chest that told me to take her again and again, until her young fertile body had no choice but to get pregnant.
“Do you think it’s a drill?” she asks anxiously, her hand tightening on mine. “Or is there really a fire?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “But there’s no way I’m risking you, my little artist, not after the life changing sex we just had.”
She makes a whimpering noise that goes right to the base of my manhood. I can’t stop myself from grabbing her shoulders and pushing her up against the wall, bringing my lips to hers in a searing hiss.
She gasps through the kiss, her voice muffled as our lips press tightly together. I growl and push against her, my manhood a solid rod against her belly.
Then the door to the ground floor crashes open.
Fuck.
I know what’s happened before I spin and turn to face the intruders before I have a chance to ready the fighter inside of me.
Jerry swaggers into the stairwell, a few men walking in behind him.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Perhaps I should’ve expected a trick, but my mind was so consumed with Zoey, all my thoughts swelling with thoughts of painting her curvy-as-hell body with lustful strokes again. I can’t believe I let something like this happen.
Jerry has a watery smile on his face, cruel and victorious as it spreads across his cheeks. His eyes glimmer in the same way, the glinting of a man who thinks he’s got us right where he wants us.
He holds a gun in his hand, looking like a toy compared with the steroid-swollen mass of the rest of him. He brims with self-satisfaction as he tosses the gun from hand to hand.
I count the men behind him…
Five of them, each of them holding a gun. They’re all as swollen as he is, making me think they’ve got a little steroid racket and they’ve been dipping into their own supply.
I can tell right away that they’re mobbed-up goons.
