24. Zaria
ZARIA
Iyank at his belt, fumbling with the buckle because my hands are shaking from adrenaline and desperate need. Greer helps despite the splinted fingers, his good hand working faster than mine until his jeans hit the floor.
He's already hard—has been since the basement, probably. The violence does something to both of us, lighting up the same dark wiring that makes us perfect for each other. I wrap my hand around his cock and he groans, the sound raw and wrecked.
"Against the wall." My voice comes out commanding despite how badly I need him. "Need you inside me right now."
But Greer spins us instead, pressing me against the blood-spattered wall with enough force that I gasp. His mouth crashes back onto mine, kissing me like he's trying to devour me whole. The split in his lip opens wider and I taste fresh copper, which only makes me hotter.
His hands go to my pants and I arch into the touch. "Peel them down," I order against his mouth. "Fuck me against this wall."
He obeys immediately, fingers working my button and zipper with single-minded focus. My tactical pants slide down my thighs and then his hand is between my legs, finding me soaked and ready. Two fingers push inside and I bite his shoulder hard enough to leave marks.
"You're so wet." His voice is wrecked, awed. "From the violence or from me?"
"Both." I rock against his hand, needing more. "From watching you break her. From you killing Vaughn. From you being exactly what I need."
His fingers withdraw and I almost protest until I feel his cock pressing against my entrance. Then he's pushing inside in one brutal thrust that makes me cry out, the stretch and fullness perfect. My body takes him eagerly despite the angle, clenching around him.
"Fuck," Greer gasps against my neck. "You feel so good."
I grip his hair with one hand, the other braced against the wall for leverage. "Move. Fuck me like you mean it."
He pulls almost all the way out and slams back in, the force making me see stars. His ribs have to be screaming but he doesn't slow down, doesn't hold back. He fucks me hard against the wall, each thrust driving deeper, and the pain he's working through only makes it hotter.
"Such a good boy." The words come out breathless, filthy. "Filling me up perfect."
The praise makes him groan and thrust harder, angling to hit that spot inside me that makes my toes curl.
His good hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise while the splinted one presses against the wall beside my head for balance.
The position should be awkward but it's perfect—violent and desperate and exactly what we both need.
"Only for you," he pants against my throat. "Only yours."
The possessiveness in his voice makes heat coil tighter in my gut.
I rock back into each thrust, meeting his rhythm, taking everything he gives me.
Vaughn's body is right there, blood still spreading across the carpet, and it makes this hotter somehow.
We killed him together and now we're fucking in the aftermath, claiming each other through violence and pleasure.
"Harder." I bite his ear, then his jaw. "Don't you dare hold back on me."
Greer's rhythm turns punishing, each thrust slamming me against the wall with enough force that the pictures rattle. His breathing is ragged, harsh gasps that tell me the pain is bad but he's pushing through it anyway. For me. Because I told him to.
"You like it when I use you?" The question comes out dark, testing. "When I tell you to fuck me and you just obey?"
"Yes." No hesitation, just raw honesty. "Love it when you tell me what you want. Love being good for you."
The admission makes my pussy clench around him and he groans, the sound vibrating against my skin. I can feel him getting close, his rhythm turning erratic, and I'm not far behind. The orgasm builds at the base of my spine, spreading heat through my entire body.
But I'm not ready for this to end yet.
"Stop." The command cuts through the haze of pleasure.
Greer freezes immediately, buried deep inside me, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding still. "What?"
"Stop moving." I turn my head to look at him, taking in his blown pupils and flushed face. "You don't come until I say you can."
Understanding flashes in his green-gold eyes along with something that looks like relief. Like he was hoping I'd take control, push him, test exactly how obedient he can be when he's desperate.
"Zaria—"
"Be good for me." I clench around him deliberately and watch him bite back a groan. "Stay still and let me feel you."
His jaw clenches, tendons standing out in his neck as he fights every instinct to move. The control it takes is visible in the tension of his shoulders, the way his fingers dig into my hip. He's hard as steel inside me, so close to the edge, and denying himself because I told him to.
Perfect.
I rock my hips slowly, taking my pleasure while he stays frozen.
Each movement makes him gasp, makes that control slip a fraction before he catches it again.
Sweat runs down his temple mixing with blood from the cut above his eye.
He looks absolutely wrecked and it's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"You want to come so bad," I murmur, watching his face. "Want to fuck me until we both fall apart."
"Please." The word comes out strangled. "Please, Zaria."
"Not yet." I clench around him again and his hips jerk involuntarily before he catches himself. "You're going to wait until I come first. Going to be my good boy and hold back even though it hurts."
"I can do it." His voice is rough but determined. "Can be good. For you."
The devotion in those three words makes something in my chest tighten that has nothing to do with sex. But I push it aside because now isn't the time for feelings—now is for claiming him, marking him, making sure he understands exactly who he belongs to.
I start moving for real, riding him while he stays as still as possible. It's torture for both of us—I can see it in every line of his body, feel it in the way his cock throbs inside me. But he doesn't move, doesn't thrust up to meet me, just lets me use him exactly how I want.
"So perfect," I gasp as pleasure builds again. "Taking what I give you. Letting me control you."
"Yours." His good hand moves to my throat, not squeezing but just holding, grounding us both. "Only yours, Zaria."
The possessiveness combined with submission makes heat flash through me. I ride him harder, chasing the orgasm that's building fast now. His thumb strokes over my pulse point and I realize he's counting heartbeats, focusing on something other than how badly he needs to come.
"Such a good boy." The praise makes him shudder. "My good boy who kills for me and fucks me and does everything I tell him."
"Always." His eyes lock on mine, green-gold burning with intensity. "Whatever you want."
That absolute surrender pushes me over the edge. The orgasm hits like lightning, making my whole body seize. I cry out, clenching around him so hard he groans. Pleasure crashes through me in waves while Greer holds perfectly still, letting me ride it out, giving me exactly what I demanded.
When I can breathe again, I press my forehead to his. "Now."
I don't have to say anything else. Greer moves immediately, thrusting hard and fast like he's been waiting for permission this whole time.
His rhythm is brutal and desperate, chasing release he's denied himself.
The splinted fingers probably hurt like hell but he doesn't slow down, doesn't ease off.
"Come for me," I order against his mouth. "Fill me up. Show me how good you can be."
Three more thrusts and he's gone, groaning my name as he comes deep inside me. His whole body shakes through it, pleasure and pain mixing into something overwhelming. I feel him pulsing, feel the heat of his release, and something possessive and satisfied settles in my chest.
Mine.
We stay pressed together against the wall, both breathing hard. Vaughn's body is right there in my peripheral vision, blood spreading across cheap carpet. The violence we did together, the life we took, the revenge we claimed—all of it's written in the air around us.
And then we fucked in the aftermath like animals.
Perfect.
"You okay?" Greer's voice is rough, his face buried against my neck.
"Perfect." I run my good hand through his hair, gentler than anything else we've done. "You?"
"Never better." He means it too—I can hear it in his voice, feel it in the way he's still holding me close despite the obvious pain. "That was..."
"Dark." I finish for him. "Violent. Exactly what we both needed."
"Yeah." He pulls back enough to look at me, and his smile is absolutely feral. "When can we do it again?"
The question makes me laugh, the sound echoing in the small apartment. This man who was a marketing analyst three months ago is asking when he can combine violence and sex again, completely unashamed of what we've become together.
"Soon." I kiss him once more, tasting blood and promise. "But first we need to clean up and deal with Chisom."
Reality crashes back—the operation isn't over, we still have loose ends, and Greer needs actual medical attention even if he's pretending he doesn't. But for this moment, pressed together against the wall with a dead traitor at our feet, everything is perfect.
He pulls out carefully and we both wince, returning to bodies that are damaged and exhausted. My pants go back up first, then his jeans. We look absolutely wrecked—covered in blood, bruised, obviously fucked-out. There's no hiding what we just did.
"Cain's going to know," Greer says, reading my thoughts.
"Cain definitely already knows." I grab my phone, sending a quick text. "He's probably making sure nobody came up to interrupt."
The response is immediate.
Cain: Perimeter secure. Take your time.
Yep. He definitely knows.