FOURTEEN
ZETH
5 WEEKS AGO
“These things are impossible to predict, Sloane. You can’t blame yourself.” Oliver holds out his takeaway coffee to me, frowning as he tries to wrestle his Converse onto his left foot. “Here. Hold this a second, would you? I’m about to fall over.” He’s one of the country’s most prestigious trauma surgeons, and yet he can’t manage to change his shoes without both hands. I take his coffee, laughing under my breath.
“I just feel…” I sigh, taking a mouthful of my own coffee.
“You feel shitty because she was a child. You feel shitty because she was just a baby, really, and you know her brother. And you went to the funeral. How many times do they tell us never to go to the fucking funeral, Sloane?”
“I had to. I couldn’t not go.”
Oliver grunts. Converse now changed, he slings his other sneakers into his locker and then slams it closed, taking his coffee from me. “Was the brother even glad you came?”
I pull a face. “I don’t think he even knew I was there. He was…” Upset doesn’t even come close to Mason’s mental state at Millie’s funeral. Distraught? Devastated? Wrecked? A week has passed since Mase stormed out of the church after basically telling everyone seated in the pews to go fuck themselves, and I haven’t been able to forget the look of agony on his face. Poor guy. I wish I could change what happened to Millie. I wish I were a miracle worker instead of a mere mortal, trying to save as many lives as I can.
“Can’t really blame him,” Oliver says. “He’s probably really fucked in the head right now. I can only imagine.”
“Mmm.”
We make our way out of the hospital in silence, walking shoulder to shoulder. It’s raining out in the parking lot, great sheets of water slamming into the blacktop with the force of a high-pressure shower. “Fuck,” Oliver groans. We’re about to walk out into it, when a sleek black muscle rolls up to the entrance—a Camaro. One I’d know anywhere. I grin, bending at the waist to talk to Zeth through the passenger window that he winds down. “I thought you couldn’t pick me up today,” I say, grinning. I still catch myself all the time, wondering how the hell I ever ended up with a man like this. Zeth obviously got caught out in the rain before he climbed into the car. His hair, slightly longer than usual, so long and thick that it’s actually started to wave a little, is damp, almost curling at the ends. His cheeks are glowing from the cold, the end of his nose a little red, too. His jaw is marked with at least three days’ worth of stubble. And when his gaze meets mine, those dark, dark eyes of his delving deep into my soul, I feel like he has me by the throat and he’s already thrusting himself inside me.
“Couldn’t let my girl catch pneumonia now, could I?” A honeyed smile spreads lethargically across his face, and I know he has sex on his mind, too. His expression shutters when he leans forward, catching sight of Oliver. He doesn’t stop smiling, per se, but his lips seem to stiffen at the corners.
“Massey,” he says. And then, after an awkward second, he says,” Can we offer you a ride?”
Oliver looks like he’s about to drop his coffee and sprint back inside the hospital, away from the car, as if he suspects Zeth might be trying to lure him to his death. He gives me a tense, sideways glance. “Uhhh…”
“Come on,” I say. “We can drop you off. It’s not out of the way.”
My attempt at reassuring him doesn’t seem to be having the desired effect. “I don’t mind. I was going to call an Uber anyway, so…”
“Don’t be silly. Get in the car, Ol.” I open the passenger side door and pull the seat forward before he can refuse the offer further. I scoot into the back, pulling the front seat into position behind me, and Oliver has no choice but to climb in the car, slamming the door behind him. He shifts uncomfortably, fiddling with his seatbelt. Zeth squirms a little, too. I don’t think he expected Oliver to accept his offer. I sure as hell don’t think he expected him to have to sit next to him in the front.
“Thanks,” Oliver says, smiling tightly. I can see the look of pure terror on his face in the rear view, and I have to stifle a laugh. Not really fair to Oliver. I may not be scared of Zeth, but I’m probably one of three people in the world who aren’t. Everyone else is severely intimidated by him, and with good reason. He’s the epitome of danger. It feels fucking amazing that Zeth would try and be kind to Oliver, though, even if it doesn’t come easily to him. It means so much more to me because of that very fact.
“So,” Zeth says stiffly. “How was your shift?”
Oliver just turns and looks at him, stunned into silence.
“Long,” I answer. “Tiring. I can’t wait to sink into the bathtub with a glass of wine. Oliver had a really interesting case today, didn’t you? Tell Zeth about the guy who came in with the giant tumor on his neck.”
Oliver swallows thickly. “Yeah…he…had a giant tumor on his neck.”
Zeth arches an eyebrow, obviously waiting for more. Oliver just blinks. He faces forward again, staring straight ahead out of the windshield.
“Ooookaaaay,” Zeth says.
Thankfully Oliver doesn’t live too far from the hospital. Ten frustratingly slow minutes tick by, and then Oliver points out which apartment building is his. He has the car door open before Zeth has even stopped next to the curb. “Thanks for the ride,” he says, as he scrambles out of the car. “I’ll see you next shift, Romera.” He dashes for his building, dodging raindrops, stepping in puddles in his haste to flee from the vehicle.
Zeth clears his throat, and then turns in his seat to look at me. “I think he just shit himself.”
“I think you’re right. Hold on, I’ll get in the front.”
“I don’t think so, Romera. Being civil to your work colleague just cost me big time. I’m gonna need something from you in return.”
“Oh?” His voice has an edge to it that I recognize all too well, laden with the promise of sex. I press my legs together without thinking, my clit throbbing at the mere suggestion of rewarding his good behavior.
He slowly turns back around, and gun’s the Camaro’s engine, pulling back into the evening traffic. “Yes,” he says, his voice rumbling and deep. “Oh. I’m gonna need you to take your pants off for me.”
My cheeks begin to flush, heat blossoming all over my body. “There isn’t much room back here, Mr. Mayfair. And your car is kind of low to the ground, if you haven’t noticed. People can probably see in.”
Zeth taps the rear view with his index finger. I look into it and see the lust-filled intensity in his eyes as he stares back at me. “I don’t give a fuck. I want you naked on that back seat right now. If you make me wait, I’ll pull over at the side of the road and I’ll tear your clothes off you with my bare fucking hands. Do you understand me? I won’t give a shit who sees that.” He speaks slowly, wicked intent filling every vowel and consonant he parts with. He’s telling the truth. He really will climb back here and shred my clothes from my body if I don’t give him what he wants.
My heart begins to skitter around in my chest, fluttering wildly. “All right. You asked for it,” I say.
The smirk that lifts just once side of his mouth so distracting, I almost forget how to breathe. “I didn’t ask,” he says. “I demanded.”
A shockwave of need powers through me, forceful and solid. Being pregnant has turned me into an animal. I’ve always been a sexual creature with Zeth, but the hormones running riot in my system these days literally have me climbing the walls if he so much looks in my direction. Toeing off my shoes and socks, I unfasten my belt and unzip my jeans, wriggling them over my hips, pulling them down my legs. My jacket goes next, and then my shirt, until I’m only wearing my underwear. I shiver, the leather seat cold underneath me, my nipples peaking painfully. I have goose bumps all over me, my skin rebelling against the sudden cold. Zeth changes lanes, his eyes flitting from the road ahead of him to me in the rear view.
“I don’t recall telling you to strip down to your underwear,” he growls. “I want you naked, Sloane. I want to see all of you. Now.”
There is something so sexual, so erotic about the way he’s watching me in the mirror, his eyes spending far too long fixed on me and nowhere near enough time on the other cars on the road. If I didn’t know he was capable of splitting his focus so efficiently, there’s no way I’d be doing this right now. I certainly wouldn’t be pushing down my bra straps, slowly lowering them over my shoulders. I wouldn’t be reaching between my breasts and unfastening the lace clasp from the front, allowing my bra to fall from my body. I wouldn’t be sliding my hand between my legs, teasing myself, moaning a little at the contact.
“Off,” Zeth snarls. “Fucking take them off.”
My chest is rising and falling as I obey him. I lift my ass off the seat so I can remove my panties. Zeth’s eyes are hungry, filled with need. He clears his throat as he goes back to watching the road for a second, glancing over his shoulder so he can change lanes. He takes our exit, the road heading up the mountain to our place, and then he gives me his attention again.
“Spread your legs for me. Show me your pussy. I want to see fucking everything.”
I open my legs as instructed, and Zeth fastens his lower lip between his teeth, rumbling out his pleasure. In short, very brief glances in the mirror he surveys my body, focusing on my pussy.
“My dick is rock solid right now,” he informs me. “I’m going to fucking punish you with it, woman. I’m going to thrust it deep into your mouth. I’m not gonna stop pushing until I hit the back of your fucking throat. Are you ready for that?”
“Yes. God, yes.” I am too hot—my body feels like its on fire.
“Touch yourself for me. I want to hear you moaning back there,” Zeth commands.
Once upon a time there was a virginal innocent, who’d never really masturbated before in her life. Then she met the big bad wolf, and he showed her a whole new world of self-abuse. “Where should I start?” I pant.
“Roll your nipples for me. Squeeze. Hard. Squeeze them as hard as I would, Sloane. And no cheating. I’ll know if you’re cheating.”
“Why would I even want to?” I ask. My hands are already on my breasts, cupping and kneading, working over my flesh. It feels so good. Not as good as it would if my hands were Zeth’s instead, but still… Taking my nipples in between my thumbs and my index fingers, I roll them, pinching and squeezing, until the sharp, burning pain fills my head. “Ahhh… oh god.” I arch my back, and Zeth makes a pleased humming sound.
“Your clit now. I want to see you tease your clit,” he tells me. “Feet up on the seat, Romera. Let your legs fall apart. I want them wide.”
So specific. So demanding. I plant my heels on the seat just beneath my butt, and I let my knees fall out, displaying me as plainly as can be. Zeth reaches up and angles the rear view mirror down, no doubt giving himself a better view. There are no cars on the road at this time of night. No street lights, either, though. The road is pitch black, winding up, up, up, ascending the mountain in the dark. Zeth spends more time looking straight ahead than he does staring in the mirror, which I am glad about now that the way ahead is so winding and dangerous.
“Make yourself come for me,” he demands. “If I can’t look, then I want to fucking hear you, Sloane. How wet are you?”
I tease my fingertips over my pussy, shivering a little. My hand comes away slick, my own arousal all over my skin. “Very,” I say breathlessly. “So wet. Damn, I…that feels amazing.” I rub my fingers in small circles against myself, working faster and faster, until I’m rocking my hips, grinding myself into my own hand. Zeth risks a lightning fast backward glance, and groans deeply.
“Fuck, Angry Girl. You are…you are something fucking else. Slide your fingers inside. Do it for me. Do it right now. Fuck yourself with your fingers.”
My back arches away from the seat as I do as I’m told. Just my index finger, and then my middle finger after it. I pump my fingers into my pussy, holding my breath until it’s too much to bear, and then I’m panting, gasping, using my other hand to rub my clit at the same time as I fuck myself.
“Shit. God, Zeth. I’m losing my mind. I wish this were your fingers. Your mouth. Your tongue. Your cock. You…I just want…you.”
“Show me,” he snarls. “Show me how much you want me. Come all over your fingers for me, Angry Girl. Do it right now. I want to hear you screaming me fucking name.”
It doesn’t take long to give him what he wants. I’m already so close. Honestly, the past few weeks, I’ve been close to coming from the feeling of my own clothing brushing up against my body whenever he’s around, so this…this insanely hot moment we’re sharing is enough to send me spiralling over the edge, my consciousness scattering to the four winds as I break against the wave of pleasure that crashes over me.
“Fuck. Oh, shit. Shit, Zeth. I’m going to come. I’m going to come. I’m going to—” I can’t even hear my own voice anymore. All I can hear is my blood rushing around my body, churning like stormy waves against a shoreline. My neck is bent to an angle, my eyes screwed shut against the power of my climax, my whole body shaking.
“Learn forward, Sloane.” Zeth’s voice is the only thing capable of pulling me from my reverie. He sounds taught, like a bowstring ready to snap. I open my eyes, and his fierce gaze meets mine in the mirror, sending shiver after shiver skating down my spine. “Do it,” he commands. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”
I’m utterly boneless as I lean forward, my breasts crushing up against the back of the passenger seat.
“Show me what your pussy tastes like,” he says evenly. He’s too controlled, everything about him held under tight guard. I know he wants to climb in the back and claim me right now. I know exactly what he wants to do to me, to make me howl and beg and plead with him for mercy, for him to allow me to come, but he’s keeping a tight leash on himself, at least one eye on the road. “Slide your fingers into my mouth, and let me suck every bit of you clean,” he says evenly.
I almost come from hearing him say those words alone. Reaching through to the front of the car, I rub my slick, soaking wet fingertips against his lips, and for a very brief second his eyes flicker closed, his expression shuttering in the most addicting way. The tip of his tongue darts out and makes contact with my fingers, and a terse, savage groan rips from his throat. “God,” he hisses. “Holy fucking shit.”
I push my fingers past his lips, into his mouth—hot, wet, his tongue laving and licking me, cleaning me, tasting me. One second Zeth’s teeth are biting down on me, his breathing growing faster and faster, and then the Camaro’s tires are screeching, and he’s stopping the car. Not at the ride of the road. Not discreetly hidden beyond the tree line. He stops right in the middle of both lanes, slamming onto the breaks. Two seconds later, he’s out of the car and he’s ripping his seat forward, roughly taking hold of me and then pulling my naked form from the car.
It’s still raining, pouring in fact, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“You’re too fucking much, Sloane. I can’t fucking take it anymore.” He carries me around the front of the car, quickly placing a hand on the hood of the Camaro, presumably checking to see if it’s hot or not (it isn’t), and then he’s laying me down, spreading my legs open wide, and he’s burying his tongue in my pussy. Using the very tip, he strokes and flicks, licks, laves and sucks, feasting on me, devouring me piece by piece. He claims me with his mouth with such urgency that I don’t stand a fucking chance. His fingers bite into the flesh of my thighs as he goes about his task, and I close my legs around his head, unable to stand another moment. The rain crashes down on my naked body, running over my bare breasts, washing me clean as I come. I scream his name, hands fisted in his hair as I rock and grind against his mouth like a woman possessed.
I fall back against the hood of the car, completely unable to move, but Zeth isn’t done with me. He rears back, tearing his leather jacket from his body and dropping it in the middle of the road. His drenched t-shirt comes next, and then he’s frantically ripping at his belt and his jeans, yanking them down his body. He doesn’t remove them all the way. That would require him to dispose of his shoes and his socks, and I already know he can’t wait that long.
In amidst the haze of his need, a flash of something tender crosses his face. He places one hand directly onto my as yet flat stomach, and a bright, emotional light shines in his eyes.
“Mother of my child,” he grinds out. “You’re the only woman in the world who could be this for me, Sloane. You’re the only woman alive who can possibly give me this. I fucking swear to god I’m going to make sure you get your happily ever after.”
He doesn’t remove his hand as he pushes himself inside me. I’m suddenly full, full to bursting. Some men are afraid of hurting the baby when they make love to their newly pregnant wives or girlfriends, but not Zeth. He takes me with a force that leaves me breathless. With every thrust, every deep, ferocious drive of his hips, he groans, losing himself, running his hands all over my body, leaning over me to bite and suck on my breasts, fisting my hair, biting my neck, no part of me left unattended to by him.
“You’re mine. You’re fucking mine, Sloane. Always,” he gasps.
“Yes, fuck, yes.” I wrap myself around him, clinging to him, refusing to let him go as he pounds into me, grinding his teeth together. And then we’re both coming, me crying out, him roaring up at the stormy night sky as our climaxes overtake us. There is no beginning. There is no end. The is only me, and him, and now…another life, resting inside my belly between us. Something perfect, and wonderful and unexpected.
Zeth collapses over me, and I can feel his heart hammering away in his chest. He strokes him hands up and down my sides, his cock pulsing inside me every few seconds as the aftershocks of his orgasm tease their way through him. Carefully, so very, very carefully, he slides down my body until his forehead is resting on my stomach.
“This is a game changer, you realize,” he says, his voice slightly muffled. “You really are stuck with me forever now.”
“That’s all I want in the world,” I whisper back.
He moves, his chin resting lightly on my belly so he can look up at me, his hands braced against my hips. The rain pelts our bodies, running down his face, soaking his hair, and he is fucking magnificent. The most beautiful, raw, magnificent man to ever walk this earth. My breath catches in my throat, making it almost impossible to breathe.
“When I get the courage up,” he says softly. “I’m going to ask you to marry me. And I seriously fucking hope you say yes.”
Time simply stops moving forward. A moment, an eternal moment, passes between us, where I try not to burst into tears. I never once thought this man would be healed enough to say something like that to me. That he feels he can now is a testimony to how much we’ve been through, how much we’ve endured and fought through to be with one another.
“I love you, Zeth Mayfair,” I whisper. “You already know what my answer will be.”
A gentle smile dares to tease the corners of Zeth’s mouth. Despite the rain and the heavy, swollen blanket of clouds that hang in the sky overhead, he looks for all the world like the goddamn sun just came out.
“Good,” he says. “Then maybe I won’t have to be so brave after all.”