14. Zoe
14
ZOE
“Me and Boone had a disagreement,” Ozzie answers vaguely. He steps into the bathroom and spits out blood in the sink, grabbing a paper cup to rinse his mouth out with water.
“A disagreement?” I repeat, dumbfounded. I follow him into the bathroom, blocking the doorway. “You had a disagreement and now you’re spitting blood into the sink?”
“Sounds about right.” He wipes his arm across his mouth and then yanks a towel off the rack to do the same to the rest of his cut up face.
“Your lip is split open.”
“Yeah… and?”
“Your cheek’s bruised—” I reach out, but he smacks my hand away, then squeezes by me in the doorway.
He’s pissed. Angry just like last night.
I have no clue what could’ve happened. I spent most of round one working the game floor. I was bouncing between tables, serving new drinks and taking away the old. Occasionally I’d be summoned to the lounge where some of the VIP guests like Boone, Estrada, and other wealthy attendees requested service.
I’d seen Ozzie at table seven, but from what I could tell, things were going in his favor. He won the game at his table.
What could possibly make him and Boone have a confrontation?
“Will you just talk to me?” I ask exasperatedly. I’ve followed him yet again, this time deeper into the hotel room.
He’s tugged off his ripped, bloodied t-shirt and tossed it aside. Bruises now decorate his torso alongside the ink tatted on his skin.
It makes for a jarring sight—the black and blue blotches juxtaposed against the many pieces of bright, vivid artwork.
But if he’s in pain, he doesn’t show it. He somehow manages to present himself as resilient and strong, more furious than anything.
He looks… indomitable in a way that speaks to me on a deep, intrinsic level.
Heat creeps up my neck, spreading to my face. I quickly look away, but my gaze is drawn back for more furtive glances of his lean physique.
His pants hang right at the point where the sharp cut of his Adonis belt starts. Right where a sparse happy trail leads straight down to his…
I turn toward the balcony doors as if I’m about to step outside. I stop short of the door, arms folded over my chest as I get myself in check.
It’s been almost two months for me. Though I can go longer if I have to, that’s usually without the constant close proximity of a man I find objectively attractive (something I’d never admit aloud to Ozzie).
“You need to tell me what happened,” I manage in a choked voice. “It could affect the investigation.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, the investigation. How could I forget? It’s all you care about.”
“I was concerned about your injuries!” I snap. “ You pushed my hand away!”
“You mean I don’t want the chick who hates my guts pretending to care I got the shit beat out of me? That’s shocking.”
I roll my eyes at his sarcasm, facing him again. “I wasn’t pretending. I do care. Will you let me help clean you up?”
He won’t look at me as he lifts his shoulders in an indifferent half shrug. “Do whatever you want. I’m not about to stop you.”
That’s a yes in male ego speak.
“You know, I’m not the only stubborn one in this room. Sit tight. I’ll grab a fresh towel.”
I return a couple seconds later with a damp towel and join him on the side of the bed. I’m facing him while he’s sitting straight toward the wall. Curling my legs under me, I ignore the fast beat of my heart and force myself to keep my cool.
I may be physically attracted to Ozzie Gallagher, but this is an official investigation—I’m on the job.
The thought is on my mind as I dab at the scrape on the underside of his jaw.
“Fuck, Ozzie,” I mutter under my breath. “How many guys was it?”
“You mean you know it wasn’t Boone?”
I snort, almost grinning. “Please, Boone get his hands dirty? In what universe? For as badass as he acts, I bet he’d shed tears if he had to throw a punch and felt how much it fucking hurts your hand.”
Ozzie casts me a sidelong glance, one brow raised. “And what would you know about that, fed?”
“I’ve thrown plenty of punches. I told you I’m?—”
“Trained in numerous styles of combat,” he finishes for me, then he adds that fucking crooked grin of his.
The same one that brings that funny flip sensation to my stomach; the same one that’s clearly flirtation.
“You told me, Special Agent,” he teases. “You said you’ve taken down men twice your size.”
“If you think I was joking, I wasn’t. I’m a black belt in Krav Maga.”
“So basically you’re telling me you can kick my ass?”
He laughs and I do too.
“Does that intimidate you?” I ask almost cautiously. It wouldn’t be the first time the answer was a yes from a man.
“Nah, why would it? You’re a strong chick. Any guy who would be intimidated by that’s weak. Besides,” he says, cutting his sidelong gaze to me again, prompting another tummy flip, “I’m pretty confident I can handle you.”
The hot flush slowly returns to my complexion, making me feel like I’m burning up. I dab at the scrape on his jaw some more, suddenly aware how hot it is in the room. I’m so distracted that I forget to respond.
Ozzie surprises me, gripping me by the thigh, giving me a firm squeeze. “Earth to Special Agent Strauss… did I just… make you blush?”
“What?” I sputter. I shake my head profusely. “Of course not, Gallagher. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Your skin’s hot… and very, very smooth. I think I did.”
Okay, now he’s definitely fucking with me.
“Remove your hand from my thigh.”
“Is that a command?”
I drop my hand from where it’s dabbing at his jaw and I look him in his gleaming blue eyes. “You’re flirting with me.”
“And if I am?”
I pop to my feet, afraid to answer that question. Distantly aware of what I would do and how I would respond. Instead I put some distance between us, clutching the damp, bloody towel between my fingers and striding toward the other side of the room.
“You haven’t told me what happened with Boone.”
“What more is there to say about it? You already guessed it—Boone had his goons jump me. It was six on one and I didn’t stand a chance. But I took the fucking beating like a champ. I didn’t beg and I still won’t do what the fuck he wants?—”
“You have to,” I cut in. “You have to do what he wants. For the investigation.”
Ozzie blows out an aggravated breath, the grin dropping from his face.
“ And for your safety,” I continue. “Ozzie, you’ve told me this isn’t a game. That I could be putting myself in a situation I can’t get out of. Take your own advice.”
“I’ll play the tournament like I agreed to do. That’s the best you’ll get out of me.”
“And you say I’m difficult. Maybe it’s true what they say. It does take one to know one.”
He pops to his feet, his energy a sudden wave of irritation. “I guess neither of us have room to talk. Then maybe we should back off and do our own thing. We don’t even need to work together anymore. We could tell Boone we broke up. Then you can give him all the lap dances you want.”
“Is that what this is about?” I ask in wide-eyed disbelief. “You’re still pissed about last night?”
“I’m pissed I’ve been dragged into something I didn’t wanna be in!”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have come out into the alley that night. You should’ve minded your own business.”
His expression darkens. “We’ve been over this. You gonna tell me more about how you had it under control?”
“It doesn’t matter if I did or not, it wasn’t your place! In fact, I don’t know what your problem is!” I say, throwing my arms up into the air. “One second you’re flirting with me, the next you’re throwing a hissy fit over a fucking lap dance that hasn’t even happened yet! Maybe you’re right—this whole fake relationship thing isn’t working out! You can’t handle it.”
He seems at a loss for words for a second, then takes a step forward, jabbing his thumb into his chest. “You think it’s me? I’m the problem?”
“I’m doing fine, Gallagher. I can separate fact from fiction. You’re not my boyfriend. We’re not really together. This is all make believe.” I’m gesturing between us as he closes the space that exists. He’s coming toward me in a fast stride that would have me backing off if I weren’t so stubborn.
The one thing he’s right about. I am hardheaded and do stand my ground no matter what.
“All make believe, huh?” he scoffs in my face. “Then explain what happened last night.”
“You mean before you ran off because you couldn’t take it?” I taunt.
He chuckles. “I could take it. More like I took mercy on you .”
“Mercy on me? In what way?” I arch a brow as I ask.
What feels like a simple, basic question turns his chuckle into a full-blown laugh. It’s mocking and rude and loud enough to feel like it’s bouncing off the walls of the hotel room. The flush on my cheeks deepens as it goes on for a few seconds.
“No offense, Strauss,” he says. “But you’ve got a huge fucking stick up your ass. You’re so uptight, you’ve probably never done anything like that before. You’re so uptight, I just know you’ve never been…”
My mouth drops open, then I clamp it shut, hiding my offense. Teeth grinding together, I demand he continue despite knowing exactly what he was about to say.
“You’ve never been fucked right. You’ve probably never even let yourself enjoy it. It’s probably all function for you, like taking a piss or drinking water. It’s not about pleasure for you. I’d be surprised if you ever had a good time at anything in your life.”
The words are brutal and direct. They’re met with my silence.
Of everything he’s ever said to me, of everything anyone’s ever said to me, this leaves me immediately embarrassed. A rarity for me.
Mostly because… it’s true.
The men at the gym were to scratch an itch. It wasn’t about pleasure. It was about sating a human need and then moving on like it never happened.
Much of my adult life has been like that. Setting goals, working hard to achieve them, then moving onto the next. If it involved my family, then I was working hard to clean up their mess.
I have no hobbies, no real friends. Nothing in my personal life that’s for pleasure like most people do.
I’m an empty vessel in that regard. Basically a robot.
My silence seems to weigh on Ozzie, because he sighs and scrubs a hand across his bruised jaw.
“That was a low blow,” he mumbles. “I shouldn’t have said that, alright? I’m sure you’re the way you are for your own reasons.”
I still can’t bring myself to speak. I’ve slipped into a slight daze as I turn over Ozzie’s words about myself.
“Zoe,” he says, reaching out to palm my shoulder. His touch is warm and evocative, just as it’d been last night when we’d kissed. “Zoe, seriously… say something.”
I blink and meet his gaze. My pulse is racing as I draw my conclusion and realize what I need. I’m crossing into uncharted territory.
“Then do it,” I say finally, my tone quiet. “Then fuck me. Show me what I’m missing.”
Ozzie cracks a grin, almost laughing as if I’ve told a joke. It takes him a second longer to grasp that I’m not joking. I’m serious.
The muscle in his jaw bounces with the hard swallow he takes. He’s catching up, his brain processing what I’ve said.
He eases closer, holding my gaze, sending a shiver down my spine. “You want me to fuck you, Special Agent? You want me to have my dick in those guts, fucking you deep?”
“I want you to show me how it’s done,” I challenge.
“Yeah, and what else? What else do you want?” he asks, backing me up against the dresser drawers. He’s so close now, the tips of our noses touch as his face hovers over mine. His hand slides up my chest and snakes my throat. He brushes his lips against me. “What do you want done to you?”
My cheeks warm as it dawns on me what he’s asking.
He wants me to dirty talk with him. For me to drop the perfunctory act and have some imagination. Let loose for once.
I lean up toward him and swipe my tongue at his lips. “I want you to show me I’m right about you. You do have a big ass dick.”
Ozzie draws me back toward him by the throat. We come together in a firm kiss as he nips at my lips and shows he has no problem handling me. He grabs my hand and brings it to his bulging crotch. I squeeze him in my grip, his hand wrapped around mine. He feels so good to touch, even if it’s through the fabric of his pants.
I just know I was right—Ozzie does have a big dick.
“What do you think, fed?” he asks, crushing my hand within his. Effectively forcing me to crush him .
It’s just a reminder how hard he already is. How he has no problem making good on my request.
“I think…” I whisper, feeling breathless. We kiss again, more leisurely, lips warm and moist. “I think I was right. Which means I want your dick in my mouth.”
“Yeah?”
Ozzie drags his lips across mine, traveling to my jaw. His hand on my throat, he applies some light pressure and then swipes at my pulse point with his tongue.
I shudder against him and breathe. “Fuck yes.”
“Get on your knees.”
I’m thrown by the sudden command. The lack of humor in his tone. The dominant edge that’s taken over.
He’s not asking. He’s telling.
I’m… strangely drawn. I’m obeying, dropping to my knees and reaching for the buckle on his pants.
He cups the back of my head as I free him and pull his dick into my grasp.
Ozzie’s dick is thick and curved with a pulsing vein that runs the entire length, and makes me want to chart it with my tongue.
I suck his head between my lips and twist my hand up and down his shaft. The salt of his precum bursts across my taste buds. It coats my tongue as I lick at the most sensitive part of his head.
I tease him ’til his breathing’s heavier, then release his dick from my mouth with a pop.
Peering up into his eyes as he watches me suck him off, I swipe my tongue across the gloss covering my lips. My saliva and beads of his precum.
“I want you to fuck my mouth,” I tell him. “I want to choke on your dick.”
I’ve never said these words before. I’ve never looked a man in the eye and told him these things.
Talking during sex always seemed like a waste of time. I was more concerned with getting through it as fast as possible. Reaching that relief I needed and then going on about my day.
Even when I have sucked dick, it was always matter-of-fact. It was about getting off rather than the experience.
But as I look up at Ozzie, then suck his dick into my mouth, I realize it’s the moment I’ve been missing. It’s the heat in the air and how it flushes my skin. The tension that rises until it’s unbearable and something has to give. The hunger that makes me want his dick down my throat ’til I’m gagging, then his dick even deeper in my pussy.
I want the struggle to reach this moment. I want the thrill of giving into it.
“Then get started,” Ozzie orders. “Show me what that mouth does.”
My pulse races, throbbing everywhere. My heart and skull. The beat between my thighs.
I use both hands and mouth to make Ozzie groan and grip the back of my head harder. He pushes me back down on his length, taking him deep down my throat. My muscles work to relax enough, massaging his hot silken dick. He holds me down ’til I’m losing air and the edges of my vision darken, then rips me up to breathe again.
I’m coughing, saliva dripping, eyes watering. Lips parted, I peer up at him still out of stubbornness. Still out of some urge to show him I can handle it.
Ozzie grins down at me and thumbs my wet lip.
Then he’s pushing me down again. I’m taking as much as of him as I can before I’m gagging and he’s bringing me up for air. He’s thrusting back into my mouth and I’m rubbing my tongue along his vein.
We work as a team.
I show him what my mouth does and he fucks it. He makes me choke on his dick, then brings me up for a hard kiss on the mouth.
I’m dizzy, as one second, I go from sucking his dick to clenched in his arms, being kissed deep. His tongue plunders my mouth. It battles my own, the energy between us so explosive we can’t get enough.
Ozzie pushes me back and I stroke his dick that’s still slick with my saliva. Showing him just how much I still want him.
I want this to happen. My request was real and I need this.
Suddenly, all I can think about is how badly I need release. I’ve needed it for so long and have gone unsatisfied. I’ve been craving passion. The rawness between us.
We kiss deep and urgently, groping at each other. Ozzie wraps his arms around me. He squeezes my ass and thighs and sucks at my bottom lip. He growls and lifts me off my feet as I stroke him in slow, twisted motions. I’m dropped on top of the dresser drawer. My legs are wrenched apart and he snatches my hand off his dick. Both wrists are pinned behind me as the dresser creaks and the mirror wobbles.
Neither of us give a damn as I writhe to free myself and he kisses me even harder. Everything escalates so fast.
We kiss and tear at each other’s clothes. We knock over the duffel bag perched on top of the dresser and the mirror slips from its hook on the wall. I lock my legs around his waist as it crashes into a thousand pieces and we refuse to separate.
Ozzie merely lifts me from the dresser and pushes me up against the wall. Tiny flecks of glass nick us anyway, sharp pricks that barely register when our mouths are fused together. We’re both hot and breathless and blinded by the urges driving us.
We rip my tank top over my head and then crush our lips for another heavy, tongue-lashing kiss. It’s how we undress—stripping an article off here or there in between greedy kisses and greedier hands.
I haven’t forgotten his cock. My fingers glide over his velvety length and feel the vein throbbing on the side. He twists my nipples as he tongues me deep and pain smarts across my breasts.
I stroke him harder, squeezing and juggling his balls.
It’s a tit-for-tat battle inflicting the torment on each other. The aggression, the roughness only turns us on more.
We hump and gyrate against the wall ’til Ozzie’s ripping me away and we’re spinning around the room. We’re locked into another battle of wills as I claw at his neck and shoulders and he slams me into another wall.
He pushes inside, spreading me open. My walls stretch to accommodate his dick, my legs crisscrossing around him.
It’s the last crumb of sanity that gets wiped out.
As soon as Ozzie slips inside me, we’re off. We’re lost to the instant pleasure and absolute lust taking over.
I dig the heels of my feet into his ass and he bounces me on his dick. We’re crackling with energy, sweating bullets, as he crushes his lips to mine. Then we’re spinning again. We’re crashing into things around the room, knocking over a lamp, finding new leverage off the bedside table.
The loud noises fill the room. If not the lamp cracking, then our pants and moans. The filthy words that tear from my throat as Ozzie’s curved dick hits my g-spot and I cry out for him to fuck me harder.
We fall onto the bed and go at each other like it’s a wrestling match. Ozzie flips me onto my back and gropes my pussy, sinking three fingers knuckle-deep. I twist and jerk against him, sparks of hot pleasure burning me up.
He fucks me like this, with only his fingers, before he’s replacing them with his thick cock. Then he’s tugging at my nipples and slapping my breasts. I arch against him, wetter and slicker than I’ve ever been in my life.
Bursting with so much sexual energy I don’t know what to do with myself.
As Ozzie comes in to claim my mouth, I bite at his lip, and then use my stomach and thigh muscles to turn us over. It’s a Krav Maga move that’s come in handy at the most inappropriate time.
But it makes Ozzie chuckle as I pin him between my thighs with a satisfied smirk. He slides his hands up the sides of my thighs and demands I give him a kiss.
“Special Agent Strauss taking charge. Why am I not surprised? Let me suck on those sexy fucking lips.”
I bend forward to make his wish come true while also guiding his dick to my entrance. I sink down on him at the same second I press his lips to mine. We swallow each other’s moans and pants, swimming in mutual pleasure.
His thick girth. My pulsing heat.
The gyrations I give as my hips begin to roll. It feels natural as I gather speed and Ozzie slides his hand up my flat stomach and torso. He cups my breasts, groping and kneading. Pinching and pulling at my nipples.
I moan and crash down harder on him. He fills me deeper. My pussy pulses, the relief I’m seeking building. I can feel myself chasing it as I ride Ozzie, growing more urgent, more aggressive.
It’s all leg and thigh muscle bouncing on his dick. Some good knees that keep me grounded and balanced.
He feels so fucking amazing that my nails sink into his chest and I draw my pleasure in red lines across his tattooed skin. He squeezes me roughly as I do. On my breasts, my hips, my ass cheeks as he pulls me down on his dick.
He reaches my sweet spot all over again, triggering my orgasm. I lose my breath as I come, swept up by little burning hot sparks. I’m trapped in his hold, an arm curled across my shoulders. His palm cups my ass as he works his dick into me.
There’s no break between my orgasm and Ozzie contorting us into a new position. I find myself with my thighs spread wide and my ass in the air. His hand pushes me down by the shoulder blade as I bury my face into the bedspread and he fucks me from behind.
I’m the one who has been pinned this time. I’m at Ozzie’s mercy as he works his hips and pounds into me.
The tiny hot sparks return in spades. They spread everywhere, making me shudder. My pussy convulses, wrapped around his dick. He’s thick and throbbing inside me. I’m slick and slippery.
Ozzie’s in fucking heaven. I know because of the sounds he makes. The deep groans and ragged breaths he draws. The way his lean muscles and vivid tattoos gleam in sweat and veins protrude in the side of his neck.
I manage a look over my shoulder to drink him in in all his rough, dominant glory.
I clamp down on his dick and come all over again. Turning my head to the side, cheek pressed into the bed, I rub my clit as I come.
So damn greedy I want to feel everything. My whole body pulses in pleasure. Deep shivers rack through me. Heat warms me from the inside out. The sensations are so intense that I’m seeing dots before my eyes.
Ozzie must feel me as I come. He feels the spasms my pussy gives. The warmth and wetness that flood his dick.
He’s a maniac in the final moments before he joins me. His thrusts pick up ’til they’re so rough and vicious that I’m fisting the bedspread and seconds from tapping out. He climaxes first, pulling out at the last possible second and spilling on my ass and thighs.
We collapse next to each other, so lost we don’t speak for minutes to come. It’s like we’ve been under a powerful spell and now it’s been broken.
Reality returns, crashing down on us. I sit up and survey the damage we’ve done. On my right, Ozzie does the same.
He laughs. “Damn… we wrecked the room.”
“We broke the mirror,” I say, stunned.
“And the lamp. And maybe that chair over there. I kicked it out of the way when we were trying to make it to the bed.”
I run a hand over my face as if it’ll change the scenery. “What are we telling the hotel?”
He shrugs. “We’ll tell the maid we’ll bribe her a few hundred bucks if she replaces everything broken with stuff from other rooms.”
“Of course that’s your solution,” I say with a short laugh. “But I have to say, that was… amazing.”
“Feels good to let go sometimes, doesn’t it, Special Agent?” He leaps off the bed and snatches his boxers off the floor. “How about some room service? Nothing like some good ass sex and then some good ass food.”
I roll my eyes, though the smile tugging at my mouth proves I agree. I can’t say he’s wrong when I feel lighter than I have in a long time, and I’m suddenly starving.
“Call it in.”
I wake the next morning with my body more loose and limber than it’s ever been. It’s almost like I’ve been born again as my eyes open and I realize any knots of tension have left my body. For once, I’m relaxed.
My head is clear. My mood strangely light.
I glance over at Ozzie to find he’s still knocked out. He’s twisted in the sheets like I am, though only partially hidden from view. My gaze rakes over the naked parts of him appreciatively, lingering on the divots of lean muscle and all the vivid ink decorating his skin.
I could probably stare at him for a solid hour before coming close to being bored. He has so many tattoos that each time I look at him, I’m discovering a new one.
Swinging my legs to the other side of the bed, I carefully get up so as not to wake him, then pad over to my suitcase to grab some fresh clothes.
It’s not even seven a.m. and I’m sneaking into the bathroom for a quick shower. I promised I would call Duchovny this morning and I refuse to miss our agreed upon time. I’m known for being punctual and that doesn’t change just because I got ‘fucked right’ like Ozzie would say.
He hasn’t even moved when I slink from the bathroom to the hotel door, my wallet, phone, and key card in hand.
I decide on a small coffeeshop inside a neighboring casino to place the phone call.
It’s discreet, empty on a Sunday morning, and I can sit long enough to brief Duchovny on everything I’ve found.
Which isn’t much.
As he answers and the call starts, I give him a thorough rundown of everything that’s happened so far (except the less-than-appropriate parts about me and Ozzie). Duchovny gives the occasional hum in answer as I go on to tell him about Ozzie being the predetermined winner of the tournament and Boone’s alluding to trafficking drugs and the girls at the club.
I save the bank statement I’ve found for last, hoping that at least will be enough to tide him over. It’ll satisfy him long enough for the forty-eight hours until our next call and I’m able to undercover something more substantial.
“I’ve had Rodriguez pull some strings and look into the account numbers. They all belong to Benz.”
Duchovny’s silent on the other end, and then he says, “Yes, and your point would be what?”
I press my phone tighter against my ear. “He’s transferring money to himself from the club funds. His personal accounts. He’s probably skimming profits off the top, which is why he’s doing it in batches.”
Duchovny sighs, the sound making my stomach drop. “While that may point to some embezzlement on Mr. Benz’s part, he’s not the reason this investigation has been opened. You presented evidence that Asa Boone was engaged in an underground drug, gambling, and prostitution ring. That’s where your trail needs to lead, Strauss.”
“I’m doing my best. It’s a little difficult when I’m just a bottle girl serving tequila shooters.”
“Difficult my ass. You love pulling the female agent card every chance you get. You say you’re the first of your kind in over a decade. Then prove you have what it takes,” he says bluntly. “Prove you can hang with past female agents like Braun. Do you know she once went undercover in a gang in L.A.? She was covert for over two months. All you’ve got to pull off is two weeks and you’re floundering.”
I grit my teeth at the comparison, not a first coming from Duchovny. He loves throwing it in my face how I don’t measure up to my mentor, his former partner, Tameka Braun. The tension that’d left my body last night returns in spades.
“I can handle it,” I hiss. “I can gather what we need to take down Boone.”
“Then get a move on it. Do whatever is necessary. If you have to cozy up to him for intel, then that’s what you need to do. Is that understood?”
“Yes, understood. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
Duchovny hangs up on me without a goodbye, the line cutting off.
I sigh as I lower the phone from my ear and stare down at the call log on my screen. I’m back to being riddled with tension, faced with the mounting pressure of what I’ve got to do. I’ve worked for years to bring Boone down and I can’t fuck it up now.
Zani deserves so much better.
I refuse to lose sight of what I need to do, even if it means returning to the uptight, stick-up-my-ass robot I’ve been.
So much for being fucked right.