11. Zachary
ZACHARY
I watch Zoey get ready through the bathroom doorway, admiring the way the dress I bought her hugs every curve. Deep emerald silk that matches her eyes when she's aroused. She doesn't know what tonight is really about yet.
The ring box burns in my jacket pocket.
"Almost ready," she calls, applying lipstick in the mirror.
"Take your time."
But my patience is running thin. I've been planning this for days, making reservations at Maestro's—the most exclusive restaurant in the city. Private table, champagne already on ice, everything perfect.
She deserves perfection.
She emerges from the bathroom, and my breath catches. The dress shows just enough skin to drive me crazy while remaining elegant. Hair swept up, exposing her neck where I left marks this morning.
Mine in every visible way.
"You look incredible," I tell her, standing.
Pink floods her cheeks. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself."
I cross to her, cupping her face and kissing her deeply. She melts against me immediately, lips parting.
"Don't start," she whispers when we break apart. "Or we'll never leave."
"Would that be so terrible?"
"You made reservations. I want to go out with you properly." Her smile is radiant. "Show off my gorgeous boyfriend."
Fiancé, I think. Soon.
The drive to Maestro's takes twenty minutes. I keep one hand on her thigh the entire time, possessive even in the car. She doesn't pull away—never does anymore. Accepts my constant need to touch her.
My perfect girl.
The restaurant glows warmly when we arrive. Valet takes the car while I guide Zoey inside with my hand on her lower back. The ma?tre d' recognizes me immediately.
"Mr. Steele, your table is ready. Right this way."
We're led to a private corner booth, secluded and intimate. Champagne waits in a silver bucket, candles flickering on the white tablecloth. Zoey's eyes widen.
"Zach, this is beautiful."
"Only the best for you."
We settle in, and the waiter pours champagne before disappearing. I raise my glass.
"To us."
"To us," she echoes, smiling.
We drink, and I watch her relax into the evening. She's more comfortable in public with me now, not constantly worried about being caught. Freedom suits her.
Dinner is excellent—filet mignon for me, salmon for her. We talk easily about everything and nothing. She tells me about a design project she's working on, eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. I love seeing her passionate about her work.
"The client wants modern minimalist, but the space is traditional Victorian," she explains. "I'm trying to blend both without losing either aesthetic."
"You'll figure it out. You always do."
"You have a lot of faith in me."
"Because you're brilliant."
She ducks her head, pleased. Still not used to compliments despite hearing them constantly from me.
Dessert arrives—chocolate lava cake we share. I feed her bites, watching her lips close around the fork. My cock hardens thinking about those lips wrapped around me later.
But first, the important part.
"Zoey," I start, voice serious.
She looks up, sensing the shift in tone. "What is it?"
"I need to talk to you about something."
Concern flickers across her face. "Okay."
I reach across the table, taking her hand. Her fingers are small and delicate in mine.
"These past few months with you have been the best of my life," I say carefully. "From the moment I saw you by the pool, I knew you were mine. Everything since then has only confirmed it."
"Zach—"
"Let me finish." I squeeze her hand gently. "You chose me when it cost you everything. Your family, your home, the life you knew. You chose us despite knowing how difficult it would be."
Tears well in her eyes. "I love you. It wasn't really a choice."
"It was the bravest thing anyone's ever done for me." My throat tightens with emotion. "You're mine, Zoey. Completely. In every way that matters. But I want more than what we have now."
Her breath catches. "What do you mean?"
I release her hand and reach into my jacket, pulling out the velvet box. Her eyes go wide, locked on it.
"I want you permanently," I say, opening the box to reveal the ring inside. Three-carat diamond, platinum band, absolutely flawless. "I want you as my wife. I want the whole world to know you belong to me legally, officially, forever."
"Oh my God," she whispers.
"Marry me, Zoey. Be mine in every possible way."
Tears spill down her cheeks. She stares at the ring, then at me, speechless.
"I know we haven't been together long," I continue.
"I know some people will judge. But I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks.
I love you. I want to spend my life with you.
I want to wake up every morning with you in my arms and fall asleep every night the same way.
I want children with you eventually. I want everything. "
"Zach—" Her voice breaks.
"Say yes."
"Yes!" She's crying fully now, nodding frantically. "Yes, of course yes!"
Relief and triumph flood through me. I stand, pulling her up and into my arms. She's shaking, sobbing against my chest.
"I love you so fucking much," I murmur into her hair.
"I love you too—I can't believe—Zach?—"
I pull back enough to take the ring from the box and slip it onto her finger. Perfect fit. I had it sized based on another ring she wears sometimes.
She stares at it, stunned. "It's beautiful."
"You're beautiful."
I kiss her deeply, not caring that we're in public. She kisses back desperately, clinging to me. When we break apart, she's still crying.
"I want to go home," she whispers. "Please."
"Fuck yes."
I throw cash on the table—more than enough to cover everything—and guide her out. The valet brings the car quickly, sensing urgency. Zoey can't stop staring at her hand, turning it to catch the light.
"Mrs. Steele," I say as we drive.
She looks at me, eyes shining. "Not yet."
"Soon enough."
The drive home feels endless. I can’t wait. The drive was torture, watching her small hand tremble, the diamond catching the streetlights. My cock is rock hard, straining against my pants. She notices, biting her lip.
"Can't wait?" she teases softly.
"Not even close."
We barely make it inside the foyer before I have her pinned.
The door slams shut with a heavy thud, and I’m on her, my body a solid wall of heat pressing her against the wood.
I kiss her hungrily, my tongue demanding entry and finding it instantly.
The scent of her expensive perfume mixes with the salt of her dried tears and the intoxicating musk of her arousal.
"Mmm—nnnh—" She moans deep in her throat, her hands fisting in my hair, pulling me closer as if she can’t get enough of the friction.
"Need you," I growl against her swollen lips. My heart is thumping against my ribs like a trapped animal. "Need to be inside you right now."
"Bedroom—Zach—let’s go to the bedroom—" she pants, her azure eyes wide and glazed with a desperate sort of longing.
"No. Here."
I hike up her silk dress, the fabric bunching at her waist. My hand finds her lace panties, and they’re already soaked, the silk slick with her juices.
I don’t bother sliding them down; I hook my fingers in the waistband and tug until the delicate lace snaps.
She gasps at the sound of the tearing fabric.
"Zach!"
"I'll buy you a thousand more," I rasp.
My breathing is ragged as I fumble with my belt and zipper.
My cock springs free, thick and throbbing, aching for the relief of her tight heat.
She’s panting, her chest heaving, watching me with pupils so dilated they’ve nearly swallowed the blue.
I lift her easily, her petite frame weighing almost nothing in my arms, and position her against the door.
"Wrap your legs around me. Now, Zoey."
She obeys immediately, her thighs white against my dark suit jacket as she locks her ankles behind my back. I guide my head to her entrance, feeling the searing heat of her pussy lips. I line up and thrust inside her in one hard, unrelenting stroke.
"Ahh! Oh God!" she cries out, her head snapping back against the door with a dull crack.
"Fuck—so tight—" I groan, my eyes rolling back for a second.
Her pussy grips my cock like a vice, the wet walls squeezing and milking the length of me. It’s perfect. It’s home. I start moving, pulling back until I’m almost out before pounding into her roughly. The door rattles on its hinges with each heavy, rhythmic thrust.
"You're mine now," I grunt, slamming my pelvis against hers until her clit is crushed between us. "Officially mine. My fiancée. My future wife."
"Yes—ahh—yes—yours—" she wails, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her nails scratching through the fabric of my shirt.
"Gonna marry you. Make it legal. Make sure no one can ever question it. No more secrets."
"Zach—oh God—yes—right there?—"
I fuck her harder, driven by a raw, possessive need that burns in my gut. Every time I hit the back of her, the ring on her finger catches the foyer light, a glittering promise of my claim.
"Look at me," I command, my voice low and dangerous.
Her eyes snap to mine, unfocused and swimming with pleasure.
"Say it. Tell me what you are."
"Yours—I'm yours—your fiancée—" she sobs out the words, her body trembling with the force of my lunges.
"That's right. Mine forever."
I reach between our bodies, my thumb finding her drenched clit and rubbing in fast, punishing circles. She screams, her internal muscles spasming and clamping around my shaft so hard I almost lose it.
"Come on my cock," I demand, my teeth grazing her neck. "Come for your future husband, Zoey. Give it all to me."
"Ahh—Zach—I'm—I’m going to?—"
Her orgasm hits with a violent shudder, her pussy pulsing and contracting around me in waves of hot electricity. I don't stop; I keep thrusting through her climax, the friction of her spasming walls almost too much to bear.
"Good girl," I praise, watching her face contort in bliss. "So perfect. All mine."