35. Zyran
ZYRAN
Esperr hasn’t said anything since we got in the truck.
And I’m reading too much into it; I know that I am. She’s exhausted, she’s been on her feet since before the sun even came up, and silence with Esperr has never meant what silence means with other people.
I know that.
It’s something I’ve learned over the last week; the way she goes quiet when she’s tired versus when something is wrong—that’s the difference between the two.
Yet, I still can’t stop turning it over.
I shouldn't have hit him.
Or I should have waited until it was just me and him.
Should’ve given her more time to handle it the way she’s always handling it, which would’ve been fine.
It would’ve been more than fine. She’s been managing situations like this long before I walked into her life, and she doesn’t need me stepping in like she can’t handle herself.
Like she’s someone that needs protecting instead of someone who has been taking care of herself her entire life.
But he put his hands on me, and something happened inside my brain—it’s what always happens, and my body just moved with just the simple fact of his hand on my shoulder.
Then my fist collided with his face, and he was on the ground, and by the time my brain caught up with any of it, it was already done.
I’ve been in enough situations to know the difference between necessary and unnecessary—tonight was probably somewhere in between, and I know that.
I glance at her, seeing her chin resting on her hand, elbow on the door, watching the city past the window. Her profile is unreadable from here, and I can’t tell if she’s somewhere inside her own exhaustion or somewhere inside her head that has to do with me.
I hate not being able to tell. I’ve spent my whole life being good at reading rooms and situations, and she is the one person who makes me feel like I’m working with half that information I need.
“You’re quiet,” I blurt out, hating the weakness in my voice.
“I’m just tired,” she mumbles, not bothering to even glance my direction.
“Just tired?”
It’s then that she turns and looks at me, and there’s nothing on her face that looks like anger, just that steady, unhurried way she has of looking at things before she decides what to do with them.
“What else would it be?” she asks, blinking.
I look back at the road, letting them stay there as I speak, because I’m a dude with big feelings. “I shouldn’t have stepped in like that. You clearly had it handled and I?—”
“Don’t,” she whispers, cutting me off.
My eyes snap to hers, fear hitting me square in the chest.
“Don’t apologize for that,” she mutters, giving me a small smile.
I nod and go back to driving.
And then I’m back to overthinking.
Because that’s the thing about a quiet car and a short drive—there’s absolutely nothing to do but sit inside your own head, and my head is not a comfortable place to be on a good day.
Tonight’s worse.
Maybe it’s because of what Rhys said or maybe because she went back to work today. She slipped right back into the rhythm of her life like the last five days were nothing, like maybe I meant nothing.
I pull up outside her building and pull into a spot before parking, only this time I don’t turn the engine off.
And unlike before, I don’t open my door—maybe she doesn’t want me to come inside. Maybe she just wants to be alone.
“Are you okay?” she asks, snapping me out of my head.
I look at the steering wheel for a second, afraid.
“Are you?” I ask, my voice sounding more stern than I intend.
“Yeah,” she bluntly says. “Why?”
I open my mouth—and try to scream for them to stop, but nothing comes out. Blood pours from my neck, and my vision begins to blur. But I can’t lose consciousness. I can’t let Raiden down?—
“Hey.”
I blink, having not realized I zoned out.
“Hey, where’d you go?” she asks quietly.
I stare at her for a long time, and then she moves, climbing over the center console and into my lap with both legs on either side of me. Before I can say anything, her hands are on my face, cupping my jaw and tilting my head up until I have no choice but to stare at her.
My hands immediately go to her thighs, squeezing them in my palms.
And she looks at me, but there’s no pity there, not like Sybil when she looks at me and sees I’m struggling inside my head.
“I’m right here,” she whispers. “You hear me? I’m not going anywhere just like you’re not, you hear me.”
My jaw works under her hands, hating that she’s reading me better than anyone else.
Better than Cyran, who has known me since before we were born; better than Raiden, who has fought beside me and bled beside me and knows every version of who I’ve been.
Yet she’s known me for less than two weeks, and she’s already found the cracks I didn’t know were showing—or didn’t want to admit to.
I don’t know if that terrifies me or if it’s the relief I’ve felt in this past year.
“Tell me where you went.”
I look at her for a moment, at her steadiness, the way she isn’t exactly asking but also not pushing.
“The warehouse,” I whisper, my eyes closing.
“It happens sometimes. Something usually triggers it, and I’m just…
back there. On the floor, watching those men take my brother and I can’t do anything.
” I pause, trying to gather my thoughts.
“Tonight it was the bar, the guy, the crowd, feeling like… I need to protect you, and I know you can take care of yourself. But something… I don’t know. ”
I stop talking, afraid I’ll ramble on, not that I haven’t already. And when she doesn’t say anything for what feels like minutes, I open my eyes, finding her still looking at me. It’s like she was waiting for me before she finally spoke.
“Does it scare you?” she asks and then pauses. “When it happens?”
“Sometimes, sometimes I can’t seem to pull myself out of it. But it scares me more to know someone witnessed it happen like that.”
“And I saw it.”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” she suddenly says. I frown and open my mouth to question when she shakes her head at me. “I want to see it all—all of it. Even the parts you think you need to hide?—”
“I don’t want to ever show you the violent side of me, Esperr.” I tell her, my voice more stern than before.
She bites her bottom lip, giving me a small nod before she starts smirking. “You think I’m mad because you punched an asshole who couldn’t take no for an answer, or that I’m going to think of you differently?”
My brows crease.
“I’m not mad, my love; I’m turned on.”
I stare at her and blink.
Esperr holds my gaze completely straight-faced for exactly three seconds before her mouth snaps forward to mine. The moment her mouth is on mine, it’s like the warehouse, the overthinking, and the tight-coiled anxiety of the whole drive—all of it just dissolves.
She slants her mouth over mine, and a deep growl rumbles deep within me. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to her kissing me, to the fucking moths that swarm inside me. And as if my cock weren’t already hard from just being around her, it is now—pressing against my zipper, straining.
But each time I try to gain access, wanting to taste her, she retreats, pulling away just the slightest.
Her hands stay on either side of my face, keeping me where she wants. Against my better self, I moan against her, and my hands, which were previously gripping her thighs, shift to her ass, squeezing them as if my life depended on it.
“Zyran—”
I don’t give her the opportunity to say anything else, taking advantage of her mouth opening and diving my tongue into her mouth.
She melts into me, giving me full access to her now.
I run my tongue along her teeth before sweeping my tongue into her mouth, our tongues meeting, dancing around each other.
My cock leaks precome into my boxers, and I groan the moment her hips begin to rock against my length. I choke into her mouth, gasping as she bucks her hips over and over again.
I literally feel like a teenage boy about to have his first time—that’s how she makes me feel. Like no one before her matters. It’s only her that I see now; it’s been that way for two years.
She rocks against me over and over again, and this time I ease a hand around her waist, diving my hands into her pants and underwear.
“Fuck Esperr, you’re so fucking wet,” I groan against her mouth.
She gasps, nodding her head. And it was that moment I realized my girl liked dirty talk. “Fuck, you weren’t lying when you said you’re turned on. Esperr, you’re fucking soaked.”
And she was—my finger eased into her pussy, and my palm against her clit.
Her arms wrap around my head, nails biting into my scalp as she jerked her hips against my hand, fucking my fingers.
“That’s it, mio cuore, ride my fingers like a dirty girl,” I growl.
With one hand in her pants, I use my other and grip the back of her head, yanking her back until her head is strained, eyes narrowing down at me.
Her hips pause for a second, and I take that time to slip a third finger into her.
Esperr’s eyes widen, fighting between wanting to push me and seeing how far I’ll take it to get her to submit to me.
“I didn’t tell you to stop moving,” I grunt, my voice more raspy than normal.
Esperr remains motionless, raising her brow and tipping her lips up in a smirk. I tighten my hand in her hair, causing her to hiss, and then shove another finger into her pussy, which clamps at the sudden invasion. Her hands come up to my throat suddenly, nails digging into my skin.
“Fuck my fingers, or you’re going to get a whole fist in your cunt, and I don’t care how much it hurts—now, Esperr.”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch—and then I’m pulling back a bit before my thumb and fingers are inside her.
My girl hisses as my third knuckle starts pushing inside her, pressure building at her core. She gasps, choking as I twist my hand, not slowing down to fit my fist into her cunt.
“Oh fu–fuck, fuck, fuck, Zyran—” She breathes just as my fist fully enters her, and her pussy tightens around my wrist.
Her entire body tenses, fingers flexing against my throat as she comes around my hand, fluids leaking down my wrist.
I smile and twist my fist, circling it around inside before I pull back some and then back inside her.
“What a fucking slut,” I hiss, pushing my face toward her as her hands fall from my throat, and I bite her nipple through her thin shirt.
She lets out a sharp inhale. “Oh, God.”
Pulling back, I let go of her head and grab the front of her shirt, yanking it down and ripping the collar enough that I can pull her tits out. I don’t give her a second to breathe; I latch my mouth onto her nipple, biting and licking at it.
Esperr’s hips jerk as I begin to pump my fist faster into her cunt. It doesn’t take long, and she’s freezing again; only this time when she comes, she squirts. More liquid shoots out of her, pouring down my forearms and onto my lap.
“Oh fuck yeah, that’s a good fucking girl,” I hiss against her tit. “I want more. Give it to me.” I snap, shoving my fist into her harder.
Her head rolls back, mumbling things I can’t understand, and I smile.
I smack her tits harshly, going back and forth until they go from pale to bright pink and then red. Each time I hit her, she goes back and forth between ‘fuck’ and a moan that gets caught in her lungs. She comes again for the third time and then a fourth, back-to-back.
“You’re so fucking hot—falling apart in my lap like a good fucking whore, begging for my fist inside your cunt. God, you’re so fucking—” I shove my fingers into her mouth, making her violently gag, which causes her walls to clamp around my hand, and then she’s squirting again.
This time I stop moving my fist and grab the back of her head, holding it up while she rides the waves. And only when she takes a deep breath and then another do I slowly and very carefully ease my fist out of her.
“Shhhh, mio cuore,” I murmur.
Removing my hand from her pants, I grab her face with both hands, rubbing my thumbs over her cheeks.
“Easy breaths, slowly, don’t rush…” she nods, doing as I say.
She leans forward, resting her head on my chest, while her breathing comes in slower and slower, matching her inhales to mine. I circle my arms around her, cradling her head against me, while my fingers begin to massage her skull.
“I’m tired…” she whispers, relaxing completely into me.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair. “You’re safe.”
Keeping one hand pressed against her, I use my other to turn the truck off and then switch to open the door. With ease, I keep her pressed against me and climb out of the truck. I lock it and kick the door shut before carrying her across the parking lot.
I reach the apartment building and swing the door open; go up three flights of stairs; and when I reach her floor, I assume she has fallen asleep, but she hasn’t.
“Thank you.”
I pause for a second, kissing the side of her head. “Don’t thank me, mio cuore.”
She sighs and mutters something into my neck that I don’t catch. Twirling my keys, I find hers, having copied her while she was at work today, and unlock her door.
I move quick, relocking the door and carrying her through her living room to her bedroom.
“Come on, mio cuore, let’s get you cleaned up,” I tell her, moving towards her bed.
She weakly tightens her arms around my neck, bringing her mouth to my ear.
“I said thank you because I’m at home with you.
You’re my shelter, Zyran. I don’t have to pretend when I’m with you.
I’m so tired, so fucking tired, but with you, God, I can finally fucking breathe when I see you.
I’ve spent my entire life always hiding, always pretending, being fucking silent because my thoughts were too fucked up for anyone. But with you, I’m free; I’m safe.”