Chapter 26
ZAHARA
I should’ve known better than to let Prime come inside.
Should’ve known that being alone with him, late at night, in the warm intimacy of a kitchen where I felt most myself, was playing with fire.
But I’d stopped pretending I didn’t want to get burned.
He followed me through the back entrance of Grits, his presence filling the space in a way that made the industrial kitchen feel smaller. More intimate. I flicked on the lights, the fluorescent bulbs humming to life.
“You need help with anything?” he asked, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching me move around the space.
“You offering to be my sous chef?” I pulled out the ingredients I’d stashed in the walk-in. Flour, sugar, butter, cinnamon.
“I’m offering to watch you work.” He moved closer. “See what you do when you’re in your element.”
I glanced at him. Most men didn’t care about the details. Didn’t want to know the work that went into creating something.
But Prime was watching me like every movement mattered. Like I mattered.
“Okay.” I added butter to the mixer, my voice falling into that rhythm I got when I was teaching. “The secret is in the dough. Most people rush it. Don’t let it rest long enough. But if you treat it with patience, if you give it time…” I added the yeast mixture. “It becomes something perfect.”
“That a metaphor?” His voice was low, rough. Closer than he’d been a second ago.
“Maybe.” I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. “Or maybe I just really love making cinnamon rolls.”
He moved behind me, not touching but close enough that I could feel his body heat. Close enough that when I breathed, I inhaled his scent. Clean soap and something darker. Something that made my pussy clench.
“Keep going,” he murmured against my ear.
I tried to focus. Added cinnamon to a bowl with brown sugar. But my hands were shaking. My nipples hardening. Wetness pooling between my thighs.
“You mix the cinnamon and sugar together,” I managed to say. “Get the ratio right.”
The mixer stopped. The dough was ready.
“You make everything look sexual,” he said, his voice rough.
“What?”
“The way you’re working that dough. The way your hips move.” He stepped right up behind me, his hard body pressed against my back. His erection thick and insistent against my ass. “You’re turning me on and you’re just making fucking cinnamon rolls.”
My breath caught. “Prime—”
“Keep working,” he said, his hands settling on my hips. “I wanna feel you move.”
His hands slid under my hoodie, warm palms on my stomach, then moving up to cup my breasts through my bra.
I moaned, my head falling back against his shoulder.
“That’s it,” he said, rolling my nipples between his fingers. “Let me hear you.”
“We shouldn’t—”
“We should.” He pulled one cup down, his rough hand on my bare breast. “Been wanting to touch you like this since I first saw you.”
He pinched my nipple and I whimpered, my thighs clenching.
“You want me to stop?” His other hand slid down, toying with my waistband.
“No. Don’t stop.”
“Good.”
He spun me around, capturing my mouth in a kiss that was pure fire. His tongue claimed mine, demanding, taking everything.
I grabbed his shirt, needing to feel him, needing to erase the space between us.
He lifted me onto the counter, stepping between my thighs, his hands everywhere.
“Feel what you do to me?” he growled, grinding his hardness against me. “Been walking around hard as fuck thinking about you. About how tight and wet you’re gonna be when I finally get inside you.”
“Prime, please—”
He pulled my hoodie over my head, then unhooked my bra with one hand. His eyes went dark as he stared at my bare breasts.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.”
He bent his head, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard while his hand kneaded the other breast.
His mouth moved lower, kissing down my stomach while his hands worked my jeans open. He pulled them down along with my panties, leaving me bare.
“Spread your legs.”
I obeyed, letting my thighs fall open.
“Goddamn,” he breathed, running his hands up my inner thighs. “Look at you. Already so wet for me.”
He dragged one finger through my folds, collecting my arousal, then brought it to his mouth and sucked.
“You taste like fucking heaven. I need more.”
He dropped to his knees and buried his face between my thighs.
“Oh fuck!” I cried out.
His tongue was everywhere. Licking through my folds, circling my clit, then plunging inside me like he was trying to taste all of me.
“Prime, oh God—”
He growled against my pussy, the vibration making me shake. His hands gripped my ass, holding me while he ate me like he was starving.
When he sucked my clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue while sliding two thick fingers inside me, I shattered.
Screaming his name. Grinding against his face. My whole body convulsing.
He didn’t stop. Just kept working me until I was boneless.
Finally, he stood, his face glistening, his eyes wild.
“That’s one. But I’m not done with you.”
He yanked his shirt off and I finally got to see all of him. Tattoos everywhere. Pure muscle and power.
He shoved his jeans down and his dick sprang free. Thick. Long. Perfect.
“Like what you see?”
“Come here and let me taste it.”
His eyes flashed. “Fuck, Goddess.”
I slid off the counter, dropping to my knees. His hand tangled in my hair immediately.
I wrapped my hand around his shaft, feeling the heat, the weight. Then I licked the tip, tasting the precum already there.
“Shit,” he hissed.
I took him in my mouth, as much as I could, hollowing my cheeks and sucking hard.
“Zahara, fuck—”
I worked him with my mouth and hand, loving the sounds he made. The way his hips started thrusting. The way he was losing control.
“Stop,” he said, pulling me off. “Stop or I’m gonna come down your throat and I need to be inside you for that.”
He lifted me back onto the counter, positioning himself between my thighs. His dick pressed against my entrance, hot and thick.
“I don’t have a condom,” he said, his jaw clenched. “Tell me to stop.”
I should have, but I needed him more than air.
“Don’t stop. Just—please.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He thrust into me in one hard stroke, stretching me, filling me completely.
“Fuck!” we both groaned.
“You feel—” He couldn’t finish. Just started moving, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. “So fucking good. So tight.”
“Harder,” I demanded. “Fuck me harder.”
His hips thrusted, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the kitchen.
“This what you wanted?” he growled. “My dick deep inside you, fucking you raw?”
“Yes! God, yes!”
His hand came down on my ass, making me cry out. “Say my name.”
“Prime! Oh God, Prime!”
“That’s right. This pussy is mine now. You hear me? Mine.”
“Yours,” I sobbed, another orgasm building. “All yours.”
He hit that spot inside me that made me see stars.
“Come on my dick,” he commanded. “Come for me, Goddess.”
I came harder than before, my pussy clenching around him, milking him.
“Fuck, Zahara, I’m—where—”
“Inside. Come inside me.”
He buried himself deep and groaned, his dick pulsing as he filled me with his cum. Hot and thick.
We stayed locked together, trembling, trying to breathe.
“Goddamn,” he finally said. “That was—”
“Yeah.”
He kissed me softer. Then slowly pulled out. His cum started dripping out and he watched, his finger catching it and pushing it back inside.
“Mine,” he said again. “All of this is mine now.”
“We’re not done,” he said. “That was just round one.”
He lifted me off the counter, turning me around and bending me over it.
“I wanna fuck you from behind. Wanna watch my cum drip out while I give you more.”
He positioned himself behind me, one hand pressing between my shoulder blades. The other gripped my hip hard.
“You look so good like this,” he said, running his hand over my ass. “Bent over, dripping my cum, waiting for me to fill you up again.”
His hand came down on my ass. Hard.
I cried out, the sting sending heat flooding through me.
“Don’t tell me what we should do,” he said, his voice dark. “You gave yourself to me. That means I take what I want. When I want. How I want. You understand?”
“Yes, Prime.”
“Good girl.” He rubbed the spot he’d spanked before delivering another slap. “Now spread your legs wider. Let me see what’s mine.”
I obeyed, trembling.
“Fuck, that’s beautiful. Seeing you dripping with me.”
He thrust into me without warning, hard and deep.
“Still so tight,” he growled, setting a brutal pace. “Even full of my cum. You’re gripping me like you don’t wanna let go.”
“I don’t,” I admitted.
“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.” He fucked me harder, his hand fisting in my hair, pulling my head back. “You like this, don’t you? Like being fucked hard. Like being used.”
“Yes,” I moaned. “Yes, I love it.”
“Tell me what you are.”
“Yours,” I gasped. “I’m yours, Prime.”
“Damn right.” Both hands gripped my hips now, holding me while he pounded into me. “My Goddess who lets me fuck her raw in a kitchen at three in the morning.”
“Yes,” I sobbed. “Yes, Prime, yes—”
“You gonna come for me again?”
“Yes, I’m close, I’m—”
“Come. Come all over my dick.”
I came with a scream, my legs giving out, only his grip keeping me upright.
He followed seconds later, burying himself deep, filling me with more cum, groaning my name like a prayer.
We collapsed together, both of us shaking, both of us wrecked.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”
He pulled out slowly and I felt his cum—so much of it—drip down my thighs.
“Stay right there,” he ordered.
I heard him moving behind me, then felt something cold. I looked over my shoulder to see him with his phone, taking a picture of my ass, his cum dripping out of me.
“Prime!”
“Mine,” he said simply, showing me the photo. “I want to remember this. Remember the first time I claimed you.”
He set his phone down and pulled me upright, spinning me around. He kissed me hard, deep, his hands possessive on my body.
“Now,” he said, his eyes still hungry. “Where else can I fuck you in this place?”
We christened every surface in that diner over the next few hours.
He bent me over the prep table, fucking me while I tried to roll out dough, his cum dripping onto the floor.
He sat me on the industrial sink, my legs over his shoulders while he pounded into me, the faucet dripping cold water on my overheated skin.
We fucked in the office chair, me riding him, his hands on my ass, guiding me up and down on his dick until we both came again.
Against the walk-in freezer door, the cold metal against my back while he lifted me, holding me up with just his strength and his dick inside me.
On one of the booth tables in the dining area, him laying me out like I was his meal, eating my pussy until I came on his tongue before flipping me over and fucking me from behind again.
In between, we actually baked. Him following my instructions, learning how to cut the rolls, place them in pans. His hands covered in flour and butter, his body still mostly naked, looking like some kind of nasty domestic fantasy.
He’d steal kisses while we waited for dough to rise. Pull me against him and grind his dick—already hard again—against my ass. Whisper filthy things in my ear about what he was going to do to me next.
By 4:30 AM, we had four dozen perfect cinnamon rolls cooling on racks, and I was frantically checking the clock.
“We need to go,” I said, panic creeping into my voice. “Prep crew gets here at six. I need to be gone before anyone shows up.”
“Relax, we got time.” But he was already pulling his jeans back on, moving quickly.
I had his cum dried on my thighs, his bite marks on my breasts and neck, his handprints bruised into my hips. I was sore. Exhausted. Thoroughly fucked.
And I’d never felt more alive.
“We should clean up,” I said, looking at the evidence of our night scattered everywhere. Flour on surfaces that shouldn’t have flour. The counter we’d fucked on. The floor near the freezer.
“I’ll help.” He helped me find my clothes, then we both moved fast, wiping down every surface, erasing the evidence of what we’d done.
We cleaned in rushed silence, stealing touches, sharing small smiles despite the time crunch.
By 4:50, everything looked normal. Like I’d just been baking. Nothing suspicious.
He pulled me into his arms one last time before we left.
“This wasn’t just sex,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”
My throat tightened. “Prime—”
“I know you got secrets. I know you’re running from something.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “But I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you’re dealing with, we’ll handle it. Together.”
Guilt crashed over me. He didn’t know who I really was. Didn’t know the danger he was in just being near me.
“You don’t understand—”
“Then help me understand. When you’re ready.” He pulled me closer. “But don’t push me away. Not after this.”
I wanted to tell him everything. But fear kept my mouth shut.
So I just nodded. “Okay.”
We loaded the rolls into insulated bags, locked up the diner, and got to his car just as the clock hit 5:15. We’d made it out with forty-five minutes to spare.
He drove me back to my place as the city woke up. Garbage trucks rumbling. Early morning joggers. The sky turning from black to deep blue to pale pink.
He walked me to my door, kissed me one more time—slow, deep, like he was memorizing the taste of me—then waited until I was inside.
I watched him drive away from my window.
Then I slid down the wall and let myself feel everything.
The pleasure. The fear. The hope. The guilt.
I’d just given myself completely to a man who didn’t even know my real name.
And I had no idea how I was going to survive when he found out the truth.