I started to get out of bed, but he grabbed the sheets and dragged me closer, then lifted me much like he had on New Year’s Eve.
“I can walk.” I wiggled my hips and braced myself on his thick lower back muscles.
He smacked my ass. The sting sent shockwaves down to my toes. “It’s too hot in here,” he boomed. He held my knees against his chest and kneaded my ass.
I stopped struggling and started melting. The stress of the week faded away as he worked my underwear off, then slipped his fingers inside me.
Wet. Hot.
I moaned and clenched around him. The fire was inside me. He kept stoking it.
“Zack, please.”
He laid me out on the counter, then rutted against me, raw power and sexuality.
I clutched his cropped hair and panted. “Oh, Zack, oh—”
Ding!
Inevitably, a bell, a notification, or my stupid alarm would wrench me back to reality. I silenced notifications and plopped onto my pillow.
Fucking hell, I was sweating. How many times would I need to change the sheets this week?
I scrolled for more jobs on my laptop at the kitchen counter while I had some avocado toast and fruit. It was supposed to be brain food. Maybe if I ate enough of it I’d purge my mind of Zack-related fantasies. But thiswasthe counter he laid me out on in one of them…
Mm. This wasn't helping.
I abandoned my laptop and queued a workout video on the TV. I had to keep my blood circulating, burn off this energy.
For the last few days, I’d been dancing around Zack. He’d come up to me in the lunchroom and ask how I’d been, but we didn’t sit together. We just loomed, brimming with sexual tension. He’d look over a lot.
I was alone. Normally, that didn’t bother me. I had a million parasocial relationships, but they weren’t as fulfilling as playful banter with Zack. I couldn’t cuddle up to a phone and feel the heat and protectiveness radiating off it. Today, it didn’t even have a good morning text. Not that I expected one. Unless—
My ringtone blared, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Who the hell would call instead of texting?
My heart jumped when I saw the contact.
I braced myself and swiped to answer. “Hi, Zack.”
“Hey.” He sounded a little off.
“Are you okay?” Had he finally told his family about my side gig?
“I’m fine. I, um, I have your shoes.”
“My shoes?” I hadn’t ordered anything.
“The Zeezy’s. The guy just gave them to me to give to you. Gave me a lot of rules too.”
I furrowed my brow. “Okay, like what?”
“You can’t wear them outside, the floors have to be clean, and he said they can’t leave my sight.”
“What?” Did that warehouse guy seriously need Zack to babysit me and a pair of shoes?
“I trust you’ll take good care of them, but I don’t want to leave them in my car in case someone sees the box and tries to break in,” he said. “Do you mind if I bring them over?”
“Now?”
