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“I love my name falling from your lips, it’s like a fucking drug I’m craving every hit of.” I move my hand from her throat to her clit, pinching it hard enough to earn another scream from her.
“Who owns you, temptress?” I grunt with a thrust. She whimpers, feeling the rising orgasm inside her body.
“Who fucking owns you?”
“You do. All three of you.” She’s so close to coming again I can feel it by the way she’s arching her back into me.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You.” She’s barely audible while I continue to pound deep into her pussy.
“Only. Us.” I pinch her one last time, before she falls over the edge, taking me with her. My release slams into me like a fucking freight train and I shoot my load so hard into her, I think her pussy’s sucked me dry.
“Fuck, temptress. I’ll never have enough of you.” I fall onto her body, with my head nuzzling into her sweat-covered neck.
“Ace…” she whispers with a shaky voice.
“Yeah, temptress?” I pull my head back to look her in the eyes. She looks nervous, biting onto her bottom lip.
“You drive me absolutely fucking insane. Some days I really want to kill your ass, but I…I also can’t imagine you not being in my life. You’ve worked your way under my skin. I love you, Ace. I love your stubborn ass even if I want to knock you out the majority of the time.”
Warmth fills my body, hearing those words. Hearing that she thinks I’m deserving of her love. I press a kiss to her lips, feeling the love radiating off her. “I also want to kill your ass the majority of the time.” I chuckle lightly. “But I could never do it. You fucked me up bad, Zamira Stone. You piss me off, make me crazy, and drive me mad, but it only makes me love you more. Each day, I find myself falling for you more than I did the last.”
Grabbing the back of my head, she pulls me in for a harsh kiss before pulling back. She unwraps her legs from my waist as I lift my weight off her body so I can go get a washcloth from the bathroom. Coming back, I clean both myself and her off, gently running the cloth between her creamy thighs.
Finally breaking her eye contact with me, she takes in my room.
“Why don’t you keep anything personal here?” Her tone is thoughtful, unsure of why I have no pictures or anything.
I slide under the covers into the bed next to her, pulling her into my side as she drapes a leg over mine. Her head and her palm rests perfectly on my chest.
I look around to take in what she’s seeing. My walls are a light gray, my bed, dressers, and side chair are all muted tones of black, gray, and cream, giving no hint of personality, just as I prefer it.
“Usually my only purpose of being in this room is to sleep, I don’t need to look at things to do that.” It’s the truth. What do I need all of those things for, if that’s the only reason I’m ever in here.
“No pictures of Allie? Or even the guys?” Sadness laces her voice, as she mindlessly runs her finger back and forth across my chest.
“I have pictures with Allie and the guys, just not up.” I keep them hidden away in a box that I only look at when I need a reminder of why we started all of this. But I don’t tell her that. I don’t like talking about the reasons I am the way I am if I don’t have to, but I feel like she won’t give up if I don’t tell her.
“And your family?”
“I have all the family I need already.” My voice trails off, thinking about how she’s worked her way into the fold, tipping over the line of being our family too.
“Why did you kill your father? What happened to your mom?” She’s approaching the subject cautiously, and I don’t blame her. Ever since she came barging into our lives, my calm, collected resolve has been shot to hell. She makes me fucking crazy, which in turn makes me get heated even faster than normal.
“They don’t matter.”
“It matters so I can understand you better. Please, Ace.” There’s no hint of her usual sassy self in her voice. Just pure curiosity to understand the beast she's lying with. “You matter to me.”
I’ve put this girl through hell, she deserves something other than torture and sex from me. It’s not easy for me to talk about, but I will for her.
“My parents weren’t good people—far from it. They were two monsters who weren’t meant to have kids, but did. Two drug addicts, always looking for their next fix.” I sigh heavily as memories flood the front of my brain. “We lived in this run-down trailer off the railroad tracks in a rough part of town. It always smelled like cigarettes, piss, and hopeless despair.” All the smells I’ll never forget, ones that will be permanently etched into my brain.
“As we got older, my parents became more desperate to get their next fix. They’d do anything and I mean anything, so long as they could get high. We’d go days without food, constantly had eviction notices, and most of the time Allie and I had to scour garbage bins in order to eat. When Allie was born, I was her parent. I was only a kid, but I was doing whatever I could to keep her safe. Our parents simply didn’t care about us, until the times they deemed us useful.” Zamira remains calm, the only indication she’s still awake is the way she’s pressing her nails into my chest the longer I talk about my parents.
“I was five. Five-years-old the first time my mom and dad used my body for drugs. I was the golden ticket to getting them high, the price to be paid was my soul, not that they cared. My mom offered to give me up for a night, allowing her dealer to do whatever he wanted to me in exchange for a few days’ worth of drugs. And the sick thing about it? The dealer thought it was a perfectly acceptable bargain to make—a night with a child for some dope. That’s all I was worth to my mom. She didn’t care what her dealer put me through, maybe she got so high she could forget what she did to me.”
My heart is beating out of my chest below her head, trying to wash away the memories of every night my mom used me as a bargaining chip.
