Chapter 19
Ellinor
We finally sat down on Nash’s couch to eat the pizza he had delivered not too long after I got here. Both of us are drinking beers while Z sips his bourbon. I can’t help but watch both of them. Such stark differences. Zamir is rough around the edges, but it seems like he has a heart of gold once you get to know him. Nash has that boyish charm to him that I usually hate, but he makes it work—and what comes out of that mouth of his while fucking has me clenching my thighs just thinking about it.
“So let me get this straight. You were being rude as fuck to Z because you were jealous and thought he was attractive?” I ask Nash. He gives me a nod, and I turn to Z. “And you were fucking with him because you thought he was homophobic?”
“Yep.”
I clap my hands together. “Well, I’m glad we got that sorted out.”
“I still need to know how you two know each other,” Nash says.
“And I need to know how the hell you two know each other,” Zamir adds in.
“Nash and I met at Club Onyx, and he fucked my brains out that same night. He’s been nothing but a sweetheart since.” I look over at Nash and shoot him a wink. Zamir’s eyebrows touch his hair hanging over his forehead, but he doesn’t say anything. I figured he would show some kind of jealousy with how much he’s been up my ass the past week. He hasn’t, though; he’s more so showing interest in Nash and me.
“Now, Zamir came into Shenanigans, the bar I work at, and ever since then he’s been everywhere I turn around. I still think it’s from me giving him a fake number before he left. He wasn’t ready for that ego hit.” I look at Z, but he’s not denying it.
“I’m sure Ida is still trying to figure out which bar she was at the night before!” Zamir states like he’s actually concerned.
“I saved her from having to deal with your ass. I’m sure she didn’t want a stalker.” Zamir just chuckles, but Nash looks very concerned.
“Do you really have a stalker, Mi Amor?”
“I have for a while now, and I’m thinking now Zamir just couldn’t hold back any longer, having to make himself known to me.” I chuckle, but there’s no light to it. I’m so tired of having to look over my shoulder all the time, and I really just hope they leave Blair out of it. They’ve always only shown interest in me, and I really hope it stays that way. I want Blair safe, no matter what.
“I want to help. I can hire security to watch you and your apartment. I can call my dad. I’m sure he has a company or two he recommends. He’s the chief of police.” That makes sense. He seems like a cop’s son.
I ask him, needing to know, “Do you have siblings?”
He’s looking at me funky but answers me nonetheless. “Yes, one younger sister, Willow.”
He’s smiling, and I can tell he loves her deeply. A pang in my chest hits me. I miss my sister so much; she still lives at home with my dad, but we were always attached at the hip growing up. I had to help raise her, and not due to my mom’s sickness; she started not giving a fuck way before the ALS took over. Mainly because she was just over parenting us both, which is why it was pushed off on me. My dad tried his best, but he was always trying to turn my mom back into who he fell in love with, and mentally, I don’t think that ever would have happened.
I pull myself out of that cesspool of sad shit to say, “You’re very oldest brother and cops perfect son, coded.”
He chuckles, and Zamir adds, “Thank fuck, I’m an only child.”
“Something only an only child would say,” I get out before Nash and I start laughing.
“I don’t like you two ganging up on me.” He’s pouting.
“You’re too grown to be pouting like that, Stalker Boy.”
“Okay, we’ve hardly watched any film. Mi Amor, do you mind if we keep it on?”
“Probably from all the face-sucking you both were partaking in before I got here.” I smirk at Nash; he’s so fucking cute when he’s flustered. “You said it was last year’s Devils game, right?” He gives me a curt nod. “Hell yeah, I need to give Zamir here some pointers; I remember a lot of drops in that game.”
“Your Dad”s probably already bitched at me for whatever you’re thinking about,” Zamir clips out.
“You watch our games?” Nash seems genuinely shocked that I would ever find a football game entertaining.
Answering him with a wide smile, I say, “Did you think I just pulled those stats about you out of my ass at the club? My dad and I are big football fans; that’s kind of our thing.”
“I figured you were just an obsessed fan at the time, but it’s all starting to make sense now.” Nash is lost in his thoughts and then adds in, “Do y’all want to come to the season opener? Hopefully, Z and I can get our shit together to play better against the Devils this year.”
Zamir chimes in, “We can get you both VIP tickets right above our sideline, or we could do box sea—”
I cut him off before he can even finish. “No box seats; that’s fucking extravagant. I feel like the ones on the sideline are, too, but my dad would have my head if I said no to those.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, watching the last time the Rebels played the Devils. I catch Zamir staring at Nash and me in what seems like awe, but I just turn my attention back to the screen.
We’re all the way to halftime now, and to my surprise, I’ve held off on criticizing Zamir for the most part, but the Rebels have never been a second-half team, so the worst is yet to come.
“Somebodies going to have to distract me during the second half, or I’m going to be on a rampage,” I say with a laugh. I don’t even have time to release a breath, and Nash is on me, pressing that mouth I’ve been daydreaming about onto mine, pushing me back into the corner of the oversized couch. Zamir is on the other side of me, and I look over, locking eyes with him. He raises his brows in question, and I pull my face away from Nash’s.
I run my hand down Nash’s bare stomach, down to his pulsing cock that’s still sadly covered by sweatpants. Still looking Zamir in the eyes, I say, “You gonna play with us, Stalker Boy?”
“We’re not done experimenting, Nash; just because there’s a cunt between us now doesn’t change anything.” He’s looking me straight in the eyes, probably to see if I’m going to flinch or cower away from him. I hate to tell him, but he has another thing coming. I think he was referring to my actual cunt being between them, but a part of me wants him to be referring to me instead. Give me all the degrading.
I’m still running my hand up and down Nash’s length over this pants, putting my other hand out for Zamir. “Come on, don’t be shy, join in. You talk a big game, Z.” They both stop in their tracks.
“What’s up with the ‘Z’ shit tonight. You both know how to get me to my knees way too easily,” Zamir grunts out.
“I called him that earlier, and it brought out a feral animal,” Nash says, in between peppering kisses up my neck and down to the tops of my breasts that are exposed in my black cropped tank.
“What did he do?” I ask, knowing damn well what he did.
“He was about to break out some Crisco.”
I look a Zamir with a questioning look, and this fucker just shrugs his shoulders. “We were in a bind, and I wanted his first experience with ass play to be enjoyable, sue me.”
We’re all laughing now. “Crisco,” I barely manage to say while trying to catch my breath. “You’re never living that one down, Z.”
Zamir launches himself at me, swallowing any laughter I have left. Hovering his lips above mine, he mutters, “What did I warn you about, Shpirt Im?” Pushing me back into the couch, he smashes his lips to mine. Nash is still sitting on the other side of me. I feel him running his huge, calloused palm up my thigh through my leggings, and I part them on instinct.
“I’ve missed this greedy pussy,” Nash pants out. “Just how I like you. Can I?” he questions, and I raise my hips and hum out a “yes” as he finally takes my leggings off.
Zamir pulls away, his breath hitching when he looks down. “Qij.” He reaches out to my bare pussy, but stops himself. “This cunt was carved from the devil herself.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, but go off,” I laugh, but it dies off when he runs his thumb through my slit. He dips into my wetness and back up, circling my clit a few times. Pulling his thumb back, he puts it in front of Nash. He doesn’t even hesitate. Nash takes his thumb into his mouth, sucking my juices, hollowing his cheeks out.
Z lets out a growl. “Keep that up, and I’ll fill that perfect mouth of yours with something else,” Z grits out and wraps his other hand around Nash’s neck. I’m laid back, enjoying this show.
I reach down, starting to rub my clit back and forth. It’s already swollen under my fingers. Zamir looks down at where my hand is rubbing away, saying, “When this pretty pussy is out on display”—the desire lacing his voice has me pausing in shock—“your pleasure is coming from one of us.” He pauses, watching my face for any hint of refusal or objection. “Do you understand, Shpirt Im?”