Chapter 7
Seven
Nadia
I’m pacing the living room, wringing my hands. Maria’s tried to get me to sit, have some tea, eat something. But I can’t. He’s been gone for hours. And I know where he went.
The men who came after us. Who put me in danger. Who scared me.
Zak must have gone after them.
Crabby meows from his perch on the couch, watching me pace. Even he’s stressed.
“I’m fine, baby,” I mutter. “He’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
But what if they hurt him and I’m just sitting here…
At that moment, the front door slams open.
I jump, spinning around. And he’s there.
My husband is standing larger than life, filling the entire entryway.
Looking like an angel of death. Fury literally wafting off his massive body.
His dark eyes blazing with violence. His wide chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, a muscle jumping at his jaw.
Bloodstains on his white shirt, his hands, his face.
But he’s alive. He’s here.
Our eyes meet across the room.
And then he’s moving. Fast.
“Baby, are you hurt?”
He scoops me up, his mouth crashing down on mine in a feral kiss. Like he’s trying to fucking absorb me.
I taste copper. But I don’t care.
He’s alive. He’s here. He’s mine.
“Need you,” he growls against my lips. “Right fucking now.”
“Baby…”
He pins me against the wall. Right there in the foyer. His body caging me in. His hands, everywhere.
“So fucking sweet,” he rasps against my lips, his forehead pressed to mine. “So mine.”
I should be horrified. He looks and smells like he just slaughtered an entire rival gang. He’s covered in their blood.
But all I feel is relief. And want. And need.
“Zak,” I whisper.
He growls, his mouth on mine again. Fucking devouring me.
His hands slide under my shirt, pulling it over my head.
My bra follows. Then he’s unbuttoning my jeans, yanking them down along with my panties.
I’m naked against the wall. While he’s still fully dressed and covered in blood.
And it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
He undoes his belt, unzips his pants and pulls his cock out.
Then he’s lifting me. My legs instinctively wrap around his narrow waist. His cockhead pressing against me, making me moan and throw my head back.
“You’re mine,” he fucking growls. “No one fucking comes after you.”
“Yes…”
“No one.”
Then he’s pushing inside. Hard. Deep. Stretching me. Filling me completely.
I cry out, my nails digging into the skin of his neck.
“Fuck, Nadia.” He’s breathing hard, eyes wild. “So fucking perfect.”
He starts moving. Hard. Fast. Desperate.
It feels like the wall behind me shakes with each thrust. My body’s bouncing. Taking everything he’s giving me.
“This pussy,” he growls, “is mine. All fucking mine.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “All yours.”
He kisses me again. Messy. Consuming. His tongue tangling with mine.
I can feel it building. The pressure. The need.
“Zak… I’m gonna…”
“Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”
And I do. I break down, screaming his name. My pussy clenching around him.
He follows right behind, fucking roaring. Jerking inside me. Hot. Deep. Over and over. Until we’re both fucking ruined.
We stay like that, breathing hard, trembling, still connected.
Then Zak reaches inside the pocket of his slacks and pulls out a fucking RING!!
I’m speechless, barely able to breathe.
It’s a beautiful antique piece made of an ornate golden ring, with an enormous diamond surrounded by a circle of smaller ones. Screaming old-world elegance.
“This was my grandmother’s,” he rumbles. “Now it’s yours.”
He slides it on my finger, and all I can do is stare at the ring, then back up at my accidental husband. This insane, beautiful, terrifying man.
“Zak…”
“You’re my wife, Nadia. You wear my family ring.”
His words make me spasm around him, moaning. And he leans in, taking my mouth, biting my lip.
Then he lifts me again, carrying me to the stairs.
I ask breathlessly, “Where are we going?”
“You need to rest.”
I feebly shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re exhausted. And we need to clean up.”
He carries me to our bedroom and sets me on the bed, disconnecting us. I whimper at the loss, sit up, watching my sexy gangster. He’s still covered in blood, fucking deadly.
“Let me take care of you,” I whisper.
He stares at me, heat and tenderness flashing through his eyes.
“Okay, sweetheart.”
I stand in front of him and begin unbuttoning his shirt. Our eyes keep connecting, holding, speaking without words.
I peel the blood-stained fabric off, revealing his muscular chest, the dark quarter-size nipples, his tattoos, the bandage that soon won’t be necessary anymore, and the washboard abs. I trace one of the inked lines across his ribs. He cups my face.
“Is it over?” I ask quietly. “With the men… from the night we met?”
He takes my chin between his thumb and index finger, looking me straight in the eye.
“It’s over with them. For now.” His voice is serious. “But baby, you gotta know there will always be others.”
Reality settles in. This is his world. Violence. Danger. Enemies.
And I’m choosing it. Choosing him.
“Okay,” I whisper, nodding slowly.
He blinks, looking incredulous. Like he thought I’d bolt. Like I still have a choice. Like my heart is still mine to take back. Like he hasn’t fucking marked me inside and out. Ruined me for anyone and anything else. For the rest of my days, I’m afraid.
“You sure?”
I let out a short huff, shaking my head. “Yeah, I’m sure, you big idiot.”
He chuckles before leaning in to kiss me. Soft and sweet, showing me how precious I am to him.
I finish undressing him, unbuckle his belt, push down his pants.
“Come on,” I say when he’s finally gloriously naked, taking his hand, leading us to the bathroom.
We step into the massive shower with its multiple heads, rain shower from above and jets from the sides. All glass, marble, and luxury.
Steam fills the space, warm water cascading all over us.
I grab the soap and start washing his body. My hands running over soft skin, hard muscles. Dips and bulges.
Through it all, Zak is watching me with dark, hungry eyes.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasps out.
I smile, poking his chest. “So are you.”
He chuckles, low and rumbly.
I wash his muscular torso, his defined arms, his broad back. Taking my time, learning every fucking inch of him. Down his long, powerful legs, all the way to his feet, while his cock keeps jerking in my direction, making me smirk.
When I’m done, I sit on the built-in bench. He’s standing in front of me, water running down his body. Looking magnificent.
He cups my face, water streaming around us, and brushes the pad of his thumb over my abused lips. I kiss it, then take it into my mouth, sucking, never breaking eye contact.
Zak’s gaze darkens. “Fuck, baby.”
I release his thumb. My eyes dropping to his long, thick cock, licking my lips at the sight of the protruding veins, the heavy head, his throbbing shaft… I take him in my hands. And he’s so fucking heavy in my palms.
I stroke him slowly, watching his jaw tighten, his breathing grow fast, unsteady.
Then I lean forward and take him into my mouth. God. He tastes fucking amazing. Feels even better. Velvet-soft skin over iron hardness.
Zak lets out a deep, guttural noise, his hand coming up to fist my hair.
I take him deeper, my tongue swirling around the skin of his cockhead. The texture is different, softer. Fucking delicious. He fills my mouth, stretching my lips, bordering on pain.
“Fuck… Nadia!”
I hollow my cheeks, sucking him deep, hard, bobbing my head. Giving him everything. Letting him know how much I want him, crave him, need him.
His hips begin moving. Gently at first. He’s being careful not to choke me.
But I want more. I take him deeper. Deeper. Until he hits the back of my throat. And I swallow around his flesh, massaging him with my inner muscles.
“Fuck, baby… You’re fucking killing me!”
I moan around him; the vibration making him curse. I work him with my mouth, my hands, worshiping every inch of his beautiful cock.
His grip on my hair tightens, making my eyes water, adding to the amazing pressure on my lips, down my throat. I fucking love feeling his control slip.
“Baby… I’m gonna…”
I don’t pull away. I keep sucking him hard.
Faster. Until he comes with a mighty roar.
Hot and salty. Fucking amazing. Flooding my mouth.
And I swallow every fucking drop like it’s a gift, the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
Then I lick him clean from his balls to his still twitching cockhead, while he makes ragged sounds.
When I look up, he’s staring at me like I’m a goddamn miracle.
“Come here,” he says in a wrecked voice.
I stand and he pulls me into his arms, kissing me deep, tasting himself on my tongue.
Then it’s his turn to wash me. Gently, carefully. Like I’m made of glass. I shake my head but don’t say anything. I just lean into his touch, reveling in the moment. My man’s large hands all over my body, his lips following the same path, sweet words rumbled against my skin.
When we’re done, he turns off the water, wraps us both in thick robes, and carries me back to the bedroom. He dries me off, taking his time. Then he puts me in bed and climbs in next to me. I curl into his warmth, with my head on his chest, his arm around me. Feeling safe. Home.