6. ZANE
ZANE
As an individual living in constant agony, days where I get a full night’s sleep are rare.
The ice baths and medications help, but only for so long.
My mornings are usually filled with pain, and because of this, I’m an early riser.
I’m used to this, and it allows me to get ahead of my duties before the rest of the ranch wakes up.
This morning isn’t any different, and I wake up when even sleep isn’t enough to subdue my pain. I reach out for the bottle of pills I keep on my nightstand, but my hand is restricted by a weight lying on my chest.
The sleep fog clears, and that’s when I realize that I’m not alone in bed.
What the fuck?!
I lift the covers to find a familiar mop of dark hair sprawled on my chest. She mumbles something inaudible in her sleep, and her fist tightens around my t-shirt. Again, what the fuck?!
What is she doing here? How did she get in? I was explicitly clear when I asked her to stay away from me, so how did that translate to her sneaking into my bed?
The sun has not risen yet, so my room is pitch black.
I turn to check the time on the alarm clock, and it’s five a.m. I switch on the bedside light, and I’m able to make out more of her face.
She’s sleeping peacefully in my arms as if this is normal for her, like we’re a couple in love or something.
Well, we’re not. We would be, if she didn’t... never mind, now is not the time for that. What I need is to know what she’s doing in my bed, how she got in, and how do I kick her out?
I shake her awake, but she doesn’t budge and mumbles more indistinct nonsense.
“Ava, wake up,” I grumble in frustration as I poke her shoulder.
She swats my hand away and burrows her face deeper into my chest. “A few more minutes, Lou.”
Lou? Who the fuck is Lou? Wait, isn’t that her mother’s assistant’s name?
I am definitely not Lou, and she’s not getting a few more minutes.
“Ava,” I call out a bit more loudly.
Too loud apparently, as she jumps in shock as if waking from a nightmare.
“What? What is it?” She mumbles, seeming confused, but her eyes are still half-closed.
If things weren’t so strained between us, I’d find this all very endearing, but unfortunately, that’s not the case. I take note that she’s in the same clothes she was wearing yesterday when I found her in front of my cabin. This means she must have snuck in here right after I went to bed.
How did I not hear her though? I blame my meds. Some of the pills I take before bed knock me out, but the effect only lasts for a few hours, which is why I’m already awake. But that doesn’t excuse anything—I need answers.
Her eyes finally land on me. “Zane?”
“Uh-huh, what are you doing here?”
“H-huh?” she stutters, looking around the room bewildered.
Her eyes land on me, and she shuffles back in shock. She ends up getting caught in the sheets, so they trip her up and she falls out of the bed. She lands with a thud, crying out in pain. The gentlemanly thing would be to help her up, but I’m still pissed that she’s in my room.
She manages to get up on her own and faces me with a panicked look. “I-I... I-I...” she stutters, still in disarray.
“What are you doing in my room?” I question again, getting out of bed as well.
“Your room?”
“Yes.”
She looks around and realizes that this is indeed my room. “Oh my God! I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t... I have no idea...” she trails off.
To her credit, she looks genuinely confused. Maybe she sleepwalked in here? I don’t know, and I don’t care what. What I need is her gone. I walk to the bedroom door and hold it open. “Get out.”
She approaches me, her eyes glistening with tears. “I’m sorry.”
Don’t you dare cave, Zane!
“Out,” I assert a bit more forcefully.
She bows her head in shame, mutters one more word—“Sorry”—before walking out.
A moment later, I hear the front door open and close, meaning she’s gone. I shut the bedroom door and lock it for good measure, just in case she decides to come back. I lean my forehead against it, slamming my closed fist against the wall.
I swear to God, that woman came back here to test all of my restraint. I’ve seen and said more to her since she came back yesterday than I have to my whole family combined in the past six months.
What does she want from me? She clearly didn’t want anything to do with me back then, so why is she trying so hard right now?
I was already over what happened—okay, not completely, but enough to move on with my life—and now she had to show up and disrupt the little peace and quiet I’ve managed to piece together.
Fuck!
I push myself off the door and head into my bathroom to take a shower. I need to forget what just happened and get on with my day. I don’t want to give Ava too much power by allowing her to take over my thoughts.
I switch on the shower to let the water heat up as I shed my clothes. The moment the hot stream hits my sore muscles, I groan in relief at how good it feels.
For two whole minutes, I’m successful in not thinking about Ava—that is, until the anger fades and my body recalls how soft her skin felt against mine, the way she perfectly fit into my side, and how amazing her tits felt pressed against my chest.
Her hair smelled amazing, and those sea-green eyes will be the death of me! I grunt in annoyance when a certain part of my anatomy springs to life at thoughts of her.
I trail my hand lower, past the scars on my torso—another painful reminder of the accident—before my fist wraps around my hard length.
“Argh.”
It’s deliciously painful, and I know that I shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s been so long and I find myself craving the pleasure of an orgasm.
I let my mind roam free, and it ends up on that night years ago when I made her come in my car with just my fingers. The sounds she made, the way she tasted, the feeling of her nipples in my mouth... otherworldly.
The warm stream of the shower offers all the lubrication I need as I move my hand over my cock with a steady pace. I let the sounds from my memories in my car fuel my movements.
“Zane...”
My name has always sounded like an enchanting imploration coming from her lips. That, coupled with her sexy moans, is enough to have me moving faster.
Oh, how I wish I’d taken my time that night. I didn’t even get to see her breasts properly—I played with them over her top. Still euphoric though... so full, so plump, perky, and when they hardened...
“Fuck.”
What I’d give to have them in my mouth again? I let myself imagine what they look like—even paler than the rest of her, her areolas a bed for her pink and rosy nipples that contrast to the rest of her breast.
I’d worship them, try to take as much of them into my mouth as I could, before pulling out and biting her nipples, listen to her cry out from the pain before soothing her with my tongue.
A series of groans leave my lips as I increase my tempo, wishing it was her hand wrapped around my dick and not mine. “Yes, please.”
I should have taken her up on her offer to sort me out that night. Maybe now I’d have something more concrete to refer to. I’d have deep-throated her in my car, used her for my pleasure, and listened to her choke on my inches.
I want to fuck her mouth, her pussy—that was so tight and snug around my fingers—make her choke on my cock and cum all over her tits.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I whisper over and over again when I feel my balls tense up.
Unable to hold it in anymore, I let go and come all over the wall and floor of the shower, strings of cum shooting out of my cock until I’m spent and breathing heavily.
I lean back against the wall, and once the post-nut syndrome kicks in, I’m left feeling like shit.
What did I just do?
Quickly, I straighten up and clean myself up, but I’m still semi-hard. I switch to a cold shower, and that’s enough to make me go flaccid.
Ava has more of an effect on me than I thought, and this is another sign to stay the furthest I can away from her. I’m thirty-five years old, for crying out loud, not a freaking teenager, so I need to keep my emotions in check. I cannot allow this to happen again.