My pussy is throbbing, tingles making it hard to remember what we’re talking about. “Dinner might be good.”
“Might?” he smiles.
Closing my eyes I whisper, “Maybe,” and moan as he kisses me full on, pressure strong as he claims me. I straddle his lap, dive my fingers into his hair. Our tongues touch, the taste of wine a hint on them as they dance, then retreat before it all begins again. His hands run the length of my back, hovering over my tailbone before spreading to grab each cheek and massage me, thumbs digging into muscles made sore by long hours on museum floors. Moaning into his lips I explore him, feel for myself the muscles I admired from afar, enjoying how much they ripple as he massages me.
I push my hips down. He lifts his up, hard erection sending an ache into my pussy that gets stronger as his tongue plays with mine. Nax groans, throws his head back, grinding his hips before crashing an amazing kiss into my paining lips. Like I weigh nothing, he flips me onto my back and lays his weight on top of me, so warm, our legs spread, one of his between my two. “I can feel the heat in your crotch. Clamp my leg and rub yourself on it.”
I blink, “No!”
“You’re aching, aren’t you? ”
“Yes, but…I can’t.”
“Yes you can. It’s an order. Rub yourself on my thigh.” I begin to move and he groans, “That’s my girl.” He traces my bottom lip with his tongue. “We’re gonna be playing all night long.”
Feeling dirty and hot as I close my eyes as I rub my aching pussy on his strong thigh, just enough pressure and the speed adjusting to the way I like it most. My folds fill with heat as my little bean gets close to bursting, inner cave contracting me into a trembling whimper.
“Look at me,” he rasps, and takes my chin in hand, forcing me to. Under heavy eyelashes I do as I’m told, blood racing with desire at the lust I see in his eyes. “I want you. Now let me take over.” He bites my bottom lip, slides his tongue inside my mouth and groans, starting to reach down, but a knock at the door makes us both freeze.
“Zia! Open the fucking door!”
Zia
“It’s James!”
We spring up.
“The stalker?” I nod, and his face darkens as he orders me, “Wait here!” heading for the door.
“I’m coming with you!”
“Open the fucking door, Zia!” James shouts, “Who is that guy?!”
I whisper, “How does he know you’re here?” confused and freaking out, my body jarred by the interruption.
“I’ll handle this! It’s why I’m here.” Holding his free arm behind him in a motion to keep me safe, Nax unlocks the deadbolt, and opens the metal door.
James is standing dead center again. He lifts a gun and points it at Nax.
I gasp, run up. “James! Put that down! What are you doing?!”
Nax holds up his hands. “Whoa there. Let’s just take a breath.”
The barrel shifts to me as he bellows, “Who is this guy, Zia?!!”
“He’s nobody!” I lie, voice trembling. “Just a friend.”
James sneers, “Oh yeah? Just a friend? Nice smudged lipstick!”
I blink, speechless, and I can’t stop staring at that gun. “James, please!”
Like one trying to soothe a wild animal, Nax’s voice deepens, words slow and deliberate. “We can talk about this. Put the gun away.”
But the barrel turns on its side, pointed right at me, lowering more by the second, my heartbeat a thick pulse that matches each inch it drops. “Please put away the gun, James,” I whisper, “We’re friends, remember? You don’t point a gun at your friends?”
“You fucking love me. You just won’t see it.” He slowly increases pressure on the trigger. “Why can’t you see it?”
Time slows down.
The faces of my family fly in front of me. “No,” I whisper, as the gun is aimed at my stomach. Suddenly there’s a ringing in my ears. But I’m knocked back, unhurt. Nax drops, hit. He’d leapt in front of me, and now he’s crumbling in a heap. James stares at him, eyes surprised.
I scream and leap over Nax, tackling James from the force of my fury. As we fall to the ground, me on top of him, a fresh shot rings out, bullet blowing out a lightbulb in the corridor.
I grab James’s head with both hands and bang it against the cement floor, over and over until someone’s arms pull me off.
“Zia, it’s John!” my photographer neighbor shouts as I fight him out of instinct. “He’s unconscious! Stop!” Panting, I drop James’s head and see the gun lax in his hand, hating it for what it’s done.
Yanking myself from John’s grip I cry out, “Nax!” and run to him, dropping to his side, weeping, “There’s blood everywhere,” as I search for the wound and find it in the middle of his left leg. “Call an ambulance!” I know there’s an artery there, and if it got hit, he might die from blood loss.
John stammers, “I called 911 before I came out here. The cops are on the way,” as his fingers dial. “I’ll call it again and tell them we need one!”
Nax groans, and I cup his face. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay!” Oh please let that be true! “Help is coming!”
“Zia,” Nax groans and winces. “Are you okay?” Pained blue eyes squint in agony as I caress his face.
“Yes!”
“Where is James?”
“He’s out.”
“Dead?”
“I don’t know.”
“My head hurts.”
“I think you hit it when you jumped.”
Nax smiles, “Oh yeah.”
Through tears I laugh, “How can you be smiling right now?”
He looks at me. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”
Collapsing onto his chest, I whisper, “You better stay that way.”
His fingers lace into my hair as I listen to a heartbeat that must not stop, the solid chest of a hero rising under my cheek. “You saved my life.”
As he strokes my head, I hear the smile in his voice. “That’s why
