Zia… Greg’s Bedroom

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“I’m a murderer.” She waited for a reaction from him. None came. More of the crippling soul energy imprisoned within rocketed up to come out. “I killed my mother’s cousin… and my unborn baby.”

A few moments passed as she waited to get some inkling of how he processed her words.

“Continue,” was all he said, but it was his eyes that let her know he hadn’t shunned her—yet.

“I was thirteen when it happened. I was so tired of what he’d done to me. It started when I was eleven, a few months after he moved in with us.”

She looked up to see the storm clouds began to form around the edges of his wondrous eyes. With a curt nod, he indicated that he wanted her to continue.

“The next time he came to me, I told him that this had to be the last time he could ‘love me’ as he called it. I lay there hating myself for being so weak and ugly to allow this.” Strengthened by how well Greg listened and the safety of his embrace, she soldiered on. “He continued to come to me in the night when everyone else was asleep. I continued to beg him to stop coming to my bedroom. It wasn’t until my cycle hadn’t come in months that I started to realize what had happened.

“My mother was the first to notice a change in me but refused to ask about my body and mood changes. All I wanted to do was sleep and be alone. I couldn’t stand to look at myself, let alone tell her that her favorite cousin was… molesting me almost every night.”

She had to pause to keep from blubbering uncontrollably. Greg continued to hold her in the safety of his arms. If she could see beyond natural sight, Zia would bet she’d find him giving her the energy and support to get through this.

“No one besides my parents knows what I’m telling you. It’s been a secret for so long, and we try to pretend it never happened.”

“You’re my mate, and I love you. I’m here to help you through it all. Get it all out, if possible. Remember, we do this together,” he said, grazing her forehead with a gentle brush of his lips.

“I love you so much.”

Her words stunned her to hear them outside of her head. As they floated to her golden giant, new waves of life-affirming source energy flowed back to her. Basking in the experience of it for a moment, Zia gathered more ability to speak unbidden.

“I remember that night like it was yesterday. I had asked to be excused from dinner early. My appetite was all over the place, and the fragrant Creole and Puerto Rican foods that were the norm in our house made me want to vomit all the time. I ran out of the house, too smothered by emotions to stay inside with him and my family. To my surprise, it was him and not my mom or dad who came out to ‘check on me.’ When I told him never to touch me again, he became belligerent. His hands felt more like claws, and his touch disgusted me. I couldn’t believe I was carrying his baby. I wanted it out of me and told him so. That’s when he slapped me hard enough to hit the ground.”

Zia’s mind raced through the murky memories of the still Texas night in the back of her parents’ home getting the shit beat out of her. When she was stable enough to come back to the room, Greg held her close, whispering words of support to her.

“Never again, my love, never again will anyone or thing hurt you, if I live.”

She knew his words to be his truth and sworn oath.

Strengthened once more, Zia spoke, determined to get the life-sucking memories out of her. “He kicked me in my stomach over and over as I lay on the ground trying to crawl away.” She felt Greg’s body stiffened but couldn’t stop. “We were out back by my Dad’s storage barn. With so much acreage, my mom had insisted that he put his work shed and tools far away from the house to insulate the sound of his tinkering and bad singing.”

Zia allowed the smile at that fond memory to buffer against the stronger more vile ones that had stained her soul all these years.

“I kept crawling as he cursed and called me all kind of sluts and whores. He, no, that monster, accused me of seducing him and that the baby couldn’t be his. By the time I made it to the corner of the shed, he’d followed close enough for me to feel the heat of his breath on my neck. I remember each word he said. My mother’s favorite cousin who my family had brought over from the Island to help him get a start in the States told me that he’d done me a favor by killing my bastard baby. He said little sluts like me always tried to trap a man with their good pussy. Then he swore that I’d never be able to be with another man. He said I was his forever.”

She looked up into Greg’s eyes to see the moisture that filled them as she said, “I snapped. I felt as if a million chains wrapped themselves around and choked the life out of me. Determined to be free of that monster, I grabbed the first thing I could put my hands on and swung.”

She was back there now, in that night what the monster that was her tormentor, swinging and stabbing.

“I fought to get my life back. When I came to, my mother held me in her arms on the ground. A bloodied pitchfork lay on the ground not far from me, and my father stood over my cousin’s bloody body. We said nothing. My mother and I watched my father quietly attach the backhoe to the tractor. It might have been all night or just a few hours as we sat there watching my father dig a deep grave for that monster. A few times my mother tried to get me to leave, but I couldn’t. I had to see him buried where he couldn’t come back to get me. When my dad finished putting the grass back over the grave as neatly as possible, he came to me, picked me up and took me into the house.

“The next day, both he and my mother took me to see a doctor in Houston. It was only about four hours away, but that drive seemed to last forever. My parents are staunch Catholics, so it took a lot out of them to go to those lengths to help me. It was my mom who found the private clinic. My dad stayed in the car. I don’t blame him though.

“The night before had been the only time I saw him cry. Everything in the clinic was cold and sterile. My mother sniffled as she filled out stacks of papers. When it came time for me to go back to see the doctor, I turned for her to come with me and…”

This part was just as painful as the years of sexual abuse Zia had endured.

“She—my mother—shook her head no and turned away. I became an adult right then and there. The nurse led me to the back, and I went through the procedure.”

“Alone?” he asked, his voice full of pain with a hint of anger.

“Yes, but it’s okay. My parents did the best they could with the pain they felt. They endured so much hurt because of me. I owe them everything for their sacrifice. That’s why I couldn’t be mad at her when my mother reached her breaking point. As a Catholic, abortion is a sin.”

Encouraged by the wave of love that wafted from Greg, she continued.

“I gained strength to become my savior. I made up my mind that day that I would never allow myself to be at the mercy of anyone ever again. My relationship with my mother changed. She became a smothering tyrant. In reflecting back on what happened now as I tell this to you, I can see how much of a little bitch I was to her.

“Yeah, it’s clearer on this side of the past. I’m a little ashamed of how I viewed her afterward. Instead of opening up to my mother who did the best she could with the resources she had at the time, I harbored a bit of resentment. My punishment was to treat her as an adversary I had to best at every chance. And, my father? He became a workaholic, pouring himself into his business. I thought it was to avoid having to see me around the house. As soon as I graduated from high school, I beat a track out of there and moved to Atlanta.”

Zia took a breath to allow her heart to slow down from the emotional purge happening. He waited, patient and quiet. The intimate, safe place he’d created was almost tangible for how supported she felt. So strong was his ability to hold a space for her to process everything was that Zia finally spoke of that other night.

“I need and want to thank you for rescuing me from my kidnapping. Something that I’ve had shame over was that I believed it was my just deserts that he’d do what he did. I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it until now. Not even my therapist has been able to get me to open up like this. Thank you.”

“I’m here and will stay with you always. Tell me any and everything you wish. No judgment is coming from me. This is our life together, and we share the burdens of pain and the treasures of joy, the same.”

“Man, when you do speak, your words are like a sensual balm of healing.”

His laugh was full and throaty. She liked it.

“No one has ever accused me of being the sensual one. We usually leave that to the twins.”

“Ooh, don’t tell me, I remember their names.” She thought for a moment and remembered the dark-haired identical twins with the cool Star Wars sounding names. “Got it, they would be Rylan and Kylan, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct. You have a good memory, or is it the twins’ magic working to make you remember them? They have that effect on women.”

“Nah, just a good memory.”

“Pardon that sidetrack. You were speaking of your ordeal here. Please, continue.”

“Getting all the crap out of my had has helped me understand a lot of the shit that I had myself believing, but this part is big. I know why I couldn’t heal completely.” Zia snuggled into Greg’s arms to siphon a little more of the strength he gave. “When Patrick kidnapped and tortured me, it was like having my cousin there all over again.” Her garish laugh that escaped didn’t hide the pain though. “To this day, I still can’t bring myself to tell my parents the details of my kidnapping. I don’t think they could handle it.”

A thought of revelation came to her.

“In hindsight, they blame themselves for bringing that monster into our home. We don’t speak about it so how am I supposed to tell them that another monster kidnapped me. Only, this time, he fed off my life force. How cruel would that be to re-traumatize them like that?”

There was more she could say about how her childhood morphed into a depression-fuel teenage existence, but that would be overkill. Instead, Zia clung to the new light feeling throughout her body that prevailed.

Then Zia refocused on her would-be mate to see tear-stained eyes looking back at her. His compassion for her story flushed away remnants of the nasty filth she always felt when encountering these memories.

He’d stayed with her, in every way, as promised.

Greg’s anger visually simmered, but he maintained control as he spoke. “Thank you for sharing such a deep event with me. I have no doubt you trust me with how open you’ve been. This is the first time you’ve opened up about your family.”

Deciding to lighten the mood, Zia wanted to show that her family life hadn’t always been full of gloom.

“Well, don’t think it was all bad. I was raised in a loving family. We just didn’t speak of that whole ordeal. My mom and dad did a great job with us. Growing up as the only “Black Rican,” besides my older brother before he left for the military, in the small town of Alice, Texas, I was shunned by the other popular girls. I didn’t fit into the white girl, Latina, or Black girl crowds comfortably. Quinn’s attitude reminds me of that time in my life.”

Greg smiled at that. “I told you, she’ll come around soon.”

“Yeah, yeah, but in the meantime, I’ll make sure to watch my back. Back home my saving grace had been my ‘exotic looks’ even for an Afro-Latina. It was my eyes and this deep caramel eternal tan I inherited from my dad’s Louisiana Creole roots. My mother always reminded me that it was from her side that I got her mother’s hourglass shape as she called it.” Zia reached up to flick her lazy, loose hair bun that hung to the side of her head like a sack of potatoes as more memories of her teen years came rolling in. “This bird’s nest,” she said, pointing to thick black loose curls of hair, “and my looks that got me into more trouble than it was worth with the local men—young and old—were the bane of my existence back then. I don’t know what it is about men and their fascination with women’s hair. Do you know one time, this guy propositioned me about letting him watch me brush my hair while he…”

Greg’s facial expressions were exaggerated to the point that Zia knew to finish that story would be tempting his resolve to remain calm. Oddly enough, his anger over her treatment was a boon to her confidence. He did care about her, maybe more than any other man she’d ever dared to love—besides her father, of course.

His voice had a primal tone as he spoke, “Zia, heart of mine, please refrain from speaking about other encounters with men right now. Or, at least until we complete our mating. I’m finding it exceptionally difficult to contain myself when thinking of other men touching you. It’s a mate thing that I hope to help you understand.” His words ceased as he considered how much of his feelings he’d shared.

“Greg, please, don’t hold in anything I do or say that causes you to have to work more to maintain your state of peace. I know how much you value that and I don’t ever want to do anything to provoke you from that state.”

“My love, I’m fine with anything you do or say as long as you’re in good health and joyful. It’s when you hurt that I seem to lose a bit of control. I’m enjoying hearing about the past that has shaped you into the woman I love today. Please, tell me more.” She hesitated, but he placed another kiss on her lips and whispered, “please.”

“All right. When you put it like that,” her laugh was lighter with a freedom that sounded strange to her ears, “I can’t refuse. Come to think of it, I don’t think there’s much I could ever refuse you.”

His smile added kindling to the fire of desire that burned inside her for this man.

“You remember our chat in the car on the way to my apartment?”

“I do.”

“I talked about getting asked to categorize myself for people. You know, that’s something I hate. People have no problem making me do all the work to make them feel safe enough to interact with me. By assuming that I need to qualify my identity for them to know how to treat me, they can maintain their sense of control. I hate that shit. How about I’m human just like you, huh? Nope, from now on, I’ll say I’m an alien and leave it at that.”

“I suspect that wouldn’t be a complete falsehood.”

“Yeah, see, you are funny.” She loved the slight confusion that rode his face as her Greg tried to figure out what he’d said that was funny to her.

Now that she had the rapt attention of her man, Zia determined to let it all rip. All the shit that pissed her off that she kept to herself seemed primed to come up and out.

“Come to think of it, I’ve hated how I looked for the longest time. I especially hated how men reacted to me. I was a pageant girl, too. Can you believe it?”

She didn’t wait for Greg to respond. Her ire rose. Zia was on a roll with her confession. Greg was her dutiful priest, listening to absolve her of her sins.

“It was my mother. I was the baby of the family. My brother is eleven years older than me. It was like I was an only child growing up in that house alone. I always felt like he escaped to the military and left me there. My mother didn’t smother him. All she did was brag about how handsome and great he was. To this day I don’t have a strong relationship with him. He lives his life with his family in California and only rarely comes home for visits, without his wife and kids. Yeah, I’d say he offered me up as the sacrificial lamb for my mother to have her plaything to parade around.

“Are you certain that was his or your mother’s motive? To make your life miserable?”

“Uh-yeah! She thought putting me in those stupid beauty pageants would be a way to rise above all the pettiness. Plus, I suspect she wanted to live vicariously through me too. Then there was the lust. Men can be nasty pigs. I was a child and knew what they were up to. It was so thick, I could feel the sliminess coming from them all the time. It never stopped or went away.”

“Did your mother say anything to them about their behavior?”

“Ha! She took it as a compliment, saying they were harmless old men. That I was the only thing that brightened their day. She even went so far to say that if they kept their hands to themselves, I was making too big of a deal about it. So, I stopped talking about it.

“Somehow I knew nothing would stop them from their lust. For as long as I could remember men said and did the most inappropriate things around me. Hell, if anything, being in the pageants made things worse. Pawing judges asking for sexual favors in exchange for first place and straight up offers of money and gifts,” Zia shook her head only now realizing the continual shit she’d endured growing up. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell my mom about that part, though. My being in those pageants seemed to be the only thing I did that made her happy.”

Greg grumbled low and menacing before speaking more words of comfort. He wasn’t happy with how men had treated her. “You were young and wanted to please your mother. Honoring your parents is a wonderful trait and blessing.”

“You would find a way to spin light into that fucked up situation,” she teased, adoring his optimism.

“I don’t have to try to spin anything. Zia, you are a good person, full of light and love.”

“Tell that to all the folks who gawked at me like I wasn’t good enough to respect.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m beating a busted drum, but all I ever wanted was to fit in. I'm normal and deserve treatment like any other human being, not a piece of meat. I’m not a slut, and never have been.”

“That is for sure, my love. Have you ever considered that on a subconscious level, those around you knew you weren’t like them? Humans love to think they’re the top of the food chain, the prime Apex predators if you will. When they suspect or encounter power they don’t have, they try to contain and control that enigma. Zia, they know when more power is present. The question you get all the time is an attempt to make sense of their reaction.”

“As usual, your words are thoughtful insights. But, I’m not done with it yet. I’ll work on letting it go, but for now, I need to vent.”

“Of course, my love. I’m here to listen.”

“Thank you. I can’t say this around others because they think I’m fishing for compliments about my looks or effect on men. Like I’m humble-bragging or something. You get me, I know it.”

“That I do.”

“You’re way more beautiful than the majority of guys walking around, and you don’t seem to let it affect you.”

“That’s because I don’t spend that much time around them. Remember, I’ve been here a lot longer than you. Physical looks are a temporary covering that is shallow. Looks don’t make the character of the heart. Whether anyone thinks my looks are comely or ugly makes me no never mind. That level of thinking is of the lowest vibrational frequency that I can’t bring myself to react to it. I’ve come to make peace with how humans of this realm behave. The conclusion I’ve drawn is that their insecurities are not my burden to bear. I’m here to protect them from unseen forces that would enslave, kill, and destroy them without another thought.”

“Well, when you frame it like that, I sound petty with my complaints.”

“No, you sound like you’re ready to process them. Please,” he said, giving her a little squeeze for encouragement, “continue telling me about your pet peeves and other injustices. I love hearing about them.”

“You sure?”

He nodded and her heart did a little flip of excitement.

“Okay, so, like I was saying. Too many times, I got asked what I was as the first thing out of people’s mouths. My name and what I did as a contributing human to society took a backseat. It might have been due to my mother’s extreme superiority complex that rubbed off on me that had helped me to survive.

“My mother is a trip. Mrs. Leila Carter is her name, and heaven help those who forget it. She was a former Puerto Rican beauty queen. My dad was her doting and handsome husband from Texas. They met when he was in the military.

“When my dad got out, he moved my mother to Alice. It was because of his determination to make something of himself that had caught her eye in the first place. My mother could always pick up on those destined for success as she frequently reminded me. She said I had that quality and she’d box with the devil himself holding only a candle and a prayer to make sure I made it.

“She was determined to make me a winner like my dad. Yes, my father has that ‘it’ factor. Wherever he goes, folks clamor to please him. As soon as he starts talking, they start pleasing.”

She saw Greg’s expression grow introspective. “What’s with that look?”

“Oh, it may be nothing, but I suspect your father may be where your Siren trait comes from. Siren can persuade people into doing their bidding by just being around them. It can intensify when they speak. Hildy has that gift.”

“That might explain how he did what he did in a place like Alice. He’d scored a great job with one of the largest drilling companies after leaving the military. With my mother’s incessant ‘cheering’ as the woman put it herself, my father had taken a huge risk and won. He started a hauling company. It grew to handle contracts from some of the largest international oil, power, and transportation companies.”

Zia had to admit her family wasn’t doing too shabby in the money department either. Her daddy had done the “doggone thang” as he liked to say and won the town and industry over—on the surface.

“I’m so proud of my dad. As one of only a few black people in business in the region, Robert Carter had become a force to be reckoned with, and he knows it. If anything or anyone could persuade me to stay in town, it would be my father.” She remembered Greg’s earlier statement about staying here with him. “But, the reason I say that is a good one—to help him fend off the constant attacks of jealous regional businesses who want to take him down for being successful while black.”

Greg either ignored or refused to acknowledge that last part about her going back home as he said, “I love learning more about you like this. You’re a fighter and survivor with the capacity to love fiercely. I find that extremely attractive.”

“You do?” She couldn’t believe his response to her rambling on about her family would result in a direct compliment of how attractive he found it, but she’d take the win.

“Of course, I do. Now, I want you to relax with me while we can.”

“Oh no, you don’t, Gryphon. We have some mating to attend to. Thought I forgot? Not on your life.”

The grin she received was sexy with a hint of devilment to it. She was learning more about him as well.

His look turned serious once again. “Don’t rush into what you haven’t made peace with.”

“I’m not,” she protested a little too quick to be completely convincing.

“Zia.”

“Yes.”

“As mates, we stay together.”

She nodded, “of course.”

“Let me be clear. I have to let you know that if there’s any chance that you’d want to go back home to help with your family’s business, be honest with both of us. We have to be on the same page to have a proper mating that’s blessed by the Goddess. I won’t ever ask you to choose me over your family. But I also need you to understand that as my mate, you should not see that as a choice to be made either. If we mate, we join together as one. I must stay here in Atlanta. Take your time and think about what you can commit to.”

Now she was pissed. “Don’t question my commitment to you, to us. I know what I want.”

“And, what if your family wants you to come back home? I suspect that might be the case.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m my own person. Look,” she had to make him understand her stance on this, “I have made my decision. I’m with you, and that’s that. Before you, I didn’t think I’d make it to see another day of happiness. I know why my heart wouldn’t allow me to get over you.”

“Get over me? I don’t understand.”

“When I went home to regroup, I couldn’t shake how badly I wanted to be with you. If Miss Connie hadn’t called, I’m still certain I would have found a way to reconnect with you. You were in my dreams, thoughts, and heart from the moment I met you. My insecurities were what made me second-guess every interaction we had. I was so used to men being so overtly interested that I misunderstood your genuine interest as lack of it.”

“I had to give you time and space to accept me and what a life with me entailed. I know it’s a lot to ask of you. All the mates of the others don’t have family that expects them to come home outside of Atlanta. This is new for me. I’m having a hard time asking you to make that sacrifice.”

“Greg, it’s never a sacrifice to be with you. Enough of this talk, I’ve hit my limit of words on this subject. The only conversation and actions I want from here must entail mating with you. Don’t make me wait another minute.”

That last statement did the trick. He resumed his gentle assault of her senses with his addictive kiss. Greg’s heat from his lips pierced her memories to bring her back to the room. She relaxed into him as he planted medicinal kisses along the column of her neck and upper chest.

He moved up to retake her mouth with a determination like never before. She succumbed to his passion, giving as much of herself as she could muster to the pursuit. In the process of ravishing her, Greg claimed and pulled any remaining straggling words of guilt or shame that might linger. As if casting them far away, he pulled back, turned his head and exhaled.

“There, I’ve taken your confession and given it to the Goddess.” Resting his upper body weight on strong arms, her man and Gryphon looked down at her. He held her gaze without blinking. She remained still, allowing his detailed perusal. When he spoke next, it was in discovery. “Your energy is skewed. Please, allow me to help you come back into alignment?”

“Yes, to whatever that means if it’ll get us closer to a full mating.”

“It will.” He placed gentle kisses on her kiss-swollen lips. “You’ll need to trust in us for it to work, though. Can you handle that?”

This time, he placed his hand on her lower abdomen.

“Ancient religious cultures understand a bit more about portals than they know. Even on earth humans exist in multiverses of existence. Are you familiar with the term, chakra?”

“I’ve heard of it. It might be from Hinduism.”

“Yes, and many other cultures of old who weren’t distracted so much. They didn't ignore subtle energy that permeates everything around us. Where my hand is now,” he looked down to or show her lower abdomen and pelvic area, “is called your Sacral Chakra. In graphic references, it's denoted by the orange color. As with the other chakras of your body, it acts as a recorder to capture all the events, emotions, and memories of your life.

“Its specialty is pleasure, sexual energy, passion for living, and creativity.” He rubbed the area drawing a soft coo out of her. Greg smiled at her response to his touch and continued his lesson. Zia found that she loved it when he taught her something new. Greg continued, “For a healthy relationship with your pleasure center, your chakra needs to be open. At this moment, I sense that it and the others are in levels that are either closed or very close to it. When we’re mated, I’ll work to help you realign each. This is the one that requires immediate attention if we’re to have a successful mating.”

“Please, help me get it open, then,” she said, not wanting to have any residue of the horror that had plagued her for so long.

Zia remained still as Greg lead her through breathing and energy movements. He assured her it was to unlock her pleasure core. The transition was subtle. She knew something had changed when he smiled down at her and pronounced her chakra open and moving. She had no clue what that meant, but it was enough for them to resume their mating call.

Her next breath was audible and lengthy. For the first time in forever, nourishment flooded her insides. Sensitive to the new sensations, she wiggled a bit to find a comfortable position.

“Lie on top of me. I feel weird. Let me feel your weight, kind of like an anchor,” she heard herself say to the man who seemed to know her better than she did.

He obliged. When their bodies touched, explosions of insatiable yearning overwhelmed her.

“I need you now. Please, make love to me. I need you inside me.” Too enthralled with the sensation their skin-to-skin contact elicited, Zia couldn't censor her words. Her legs clamped around Greg’s trim waist as she began to grind against him.

“That’s the mating thrall. It’s powerful and working toward our mating consummation. Are you sure? I sense you still need more time.” His voice was raspy and hinted at a struggle he might be fighting to continue to resist her prompting.

“I’m sure, please? You’ve got me begging. Is that what you want your mate to endure?”

His eyes shone brightly in the full day illumination of the bedroom as he peered into her deep and long.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he finally said, “But we take things slow and stop if you need to.” As if understanding what she was about to encounter, he added, “This is our safe place. I won’t think anything but how amazing you are if we need to stop.”

Through glassy sight that only shed tears could produce, she nodded, gratitude at having this man as her mate.

Without another word, Greg ran the hand he’d used to impart strength to her a few moments earlier under her top. When the heat of his hands rested to cup one of her ample breasts, Zia sighed in pleasure.

“Yesssss…” was the purr that filled the short space between their lips as she lifted her head up to kiss him.

In that instant, Zia knew she’d won another internal battle as Greg’s hunger for her enveloped them in a tight embrace. Where his kisses had been gentle and sensual, they now sparked with hunger and need.

Zia matched him in her own need to join with him. Her hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. For his part, Greg lifted his arms and removed the offending garment.

Next, she went for the buttons of his jeans. Back on his knees from removing his shirt, this gave her better access to undress him. Zia didn’t slow down enough to notice how her hands slightly shook with excitement. Nor did she feel the need to act in a certain way becoming of a lady. When the third button gave way, she got the first glimpse of a hardened cock straining against a pair of black boxer briefs.

Unable to help herself, Zia looked up to see Greg watching her with great interest. Her smile felt huge and most likely maniacal as she returned to her pursuit of freeing him from the pair of jeans.

“A little help here,” she said, as she finished the buttons and attempted to move the jeans downward.

He answered by moving to sit on the edge of the bed and taking the jeans off. Boldness bloomed as she said, “Don’t stop there.” When he turned back to look at her with a cocked eyebrow, all Zia gave him was, “Trust us, mate. Now, strip.”

He did and what a sight to behold as he turned to rejoin her in the bed. With Greg completely nude and her clothed, a sense of control settled in that Zia needed to make the next move.

Without another word, she edged closer and sat facing him in his lap. He waited and watched. Zia took off her top, tossing it to somewhere in the room without looking. Her heart skipped a beat when his eyes remained fixed on hers instead of going to her bra.

This man was unlike any other.

She unclasped her bra and removed it, keeping her eyes fixed on his. With each of her movements, Zia’s confidence rose. She didn’t worry about the extra bumps and rolls of her full and curvy body. Imperfections of a mole here and there, dimpled butt and thighs, or new hair stubble on her legs and lady bits were far removed. The only thing that mattered was that her man only had eyes for her—the real her.

Zia made it her business to keep the shields down. She allowed her emotions to show through her eyes. He continued to watch and love her through his clear blue ones.

Half-naked, she pressed herself against her golden giant. Contact drew a moan at the feel of his body pressed against hers. When his arms encircled her and held on tight, she collided with a wave of emotions so powerful; heat singed her from within.

The sensation was better than winning and getting everything on her greatest gift wish list at the same time. He held her for a protracted minute, long enough for her heartbeat to find the rhythm of his and beat in tandem.

“True intimacy is the greatest gift of mating. Thank you, my love, for opening up to me,” he whispered in her ear.

The seductive spell that wove itself around the couple wouldn’t be denied though.

Zia allowed her body to react and interact with his as her nipples hardened more.

“I want you,” she said without a sliver of hesitation.

“You have me.”

That was all she needed to know. Zia pushed against his chest until her golden giant lay back on the bed. In the dominant position as she sat straddled him, Zia bent down and began to lick and suck his nipples. She relished her time exploring his body.

His fingers threaded themselves through the loosened bun. It was the only thing that kept her thick, wild and wavy locks from exploding everywhere. She nipped at his tightening bud and smiled when he gave an involuntary tug on her bun.

It was the feel of his growing erection brushing against her backside that sobered her efforts. She stopped all movement as if frozen. Greg remained quiet and waited.

Determined to taste life, Zia acted on her desires. She dared to believe life held more than loneliness and despair. Zia moved down his torso. She planted kisses along the trail of swirling golden hair that covered his chest. Curiosity guided her down as she followed the trail. Discovery rewarded her effort. The golden trail funneled into a line down to his cock. His exquisite, impressive, and perfect cock.

When she managed to make it to his stiff shaft, her heart bounced in her chest like a racehorse. It was now or never.

“Zia, remember, I’m yours. We go where you want to.” Keeping his voice to a low caress, Greg added, “You’re in control, my love.”

His words imbued her with the courage to proceed. With new vigor, she latched onto her desire with gusto.

“Something I haven’t wanted anyone to know is that I haven’t been able to have sex since my cousin. I always freeze up when the kiss becomes something more.”

Greg rose to take her into his lap and rocked her. “We can stop. Let’s take it slow. You’ve done so much to break through today, I couldn’t ask for more.”

“No, I need this. I need you.” She pleaded but didn’t care. “You know my darkest secrets and still dare to love me. You’ve stayed with me. Now, please, let’s finish this and make me your mate.”