Shaking like a leaf in the wind. Or maybe like the ground during an earthquake.
And then, it’s Zach’s turn.
He comes with a groan, his forehead pressing against mine, his breaths covering me in a sweaty, misty film.
He’s juddering against me and I notice the drops of his cum spilled on his stomach, his jeans, in my panties. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Still panting and sweaty, he lowers me on the bed, half-dressed and indecent. From this angle, the sun glares down at me but Zach blocks it with his big body.
He wraps his hand around my neck and growls, “Who are you?”
Even though I have very little energy left, I still arch my back. As if his voice is a call from my master.
“Your prize.”
His fingers flex around my throat in possession and he bends down to smack a hard kiss on my lips. “As long as I’m here.”
I would’ve smiled, because really, I’m happy and I feel cherished.
Only there’s one thing I totally ignored before.
I’m his prize, his most adored possession but only for now.
Only as long as he’s here.
Mine.
My prize.
She is my prize.
She. Is. My prize.
I’m his prize.
I’m someone’s prize. His.
I haven’t stopped smiling ever since he said that yesterday, after he made me come so spectacularly. And then, he straightened up my dress and I washed up in his bathroom, redid my hair and smoothed the wrinkles out of my dress before leaving his room.
Exactly like he told me I’d do.
He’s going to be here any minute. I’m watching the back door at the end of the hallway like it will burst open by itself and he’ll emerge all tall and handsome.
It should scare me that I didn’t even think of it, of someone seeing him getting in and out. I should have.
For all my rule-breaking, this job is important to me. This is the only thing I have that will get me back my house. The place filled with my parents’ memories. I can picture them in the living room, at the island in the kitchen, on the stairs, in the backyard.
In that house, they are alive and I’m not an orphan.
So yeah, I should’ve thought of all the details before inviting him over. But is it crazy that I find it sweet that he thought of them? That he wanted to protect me?
At seven o’ clock, the knock sounds.
He’s here.
I can tell by his knock. It’s loud and short. More like a pound. I rush to the door and throw it open.
Zach’s face is bowed but he lifts his eyes to look at me. I give him a blinding smile.
“You came.”
He takes a few seconds to check me out and my toes curl, his eyes moving up and down. I kinda dressed up for him. Nothing crazy. Just a form-fitting top that shows off my breasts and tiny shorts.
“Well, you did threaten to call the cops on me,” he drawls, bringing his eyes back up to mine. “And fuck up my bike. And no one touches my bike. So here I am.”
I chuckle. “Really? For the bike? Don’t you think you love it a little too much?”
He’s had his bike for nearly as long as I’ve known him. Numerous times, I’d imagine doing something drastic to it just to mess with him. A few times I even came close.
“I think I love her just enough.”
Good thing I was holding on to the edge of the door or I would’ve toppled over. I swear his love went down to my knees, making them weak. That and the way he’s been watching me ever since he arrived.
Like he can’t get enough of me.
“Are we going to stand here all day or are you gonna invite me in?” he asks when I don’t say anything.
I shake my head and step aside. “Yeah. Come on in.”
His boots click as they cross over the threshold and something about that makes me flush. It also makes me restless and talkative.
“So you’re one of those guys.”
Zach turns around to face me as I shut the door. “What guys?”
“Who call their mode of transportation a she.” I walk to the kitchen where I’ve set up all the books and things that we’re going to use tonight as I keep babbling, “It’s a little crazy, I think. It’s just a bike. I mean, I have a car. I love that car even though I’m a little scared of it right now. But I don’t call it a he. I just call it