Zakhar
I wake up with Nadia in my arms again. But this time it’s different. This time, she’s mine. Completely. Fully claimed.
I can still feel her around my cock, hear her screaming my name. See the way she looked at me when I filled her, marked her, made her mine in every fucking way.
I tighten my hold on her, breathing in her scent. Vanilla, sex, and my woman. My goddamn wife.
She stirs, her gorgeous brown eyes blinking open to look up at me.
“Morning,” she murmurs in a sleepy voice, smiling softly.
“Morning, baby.” I kiss her forehead. Her nose. Her lips.
She smiles against my mouth. Soft. Warm. Sweet. Fucking perfect.
We lie there for a beat, just holding each other. But she eventually pulls back, tilting her head to meet my gaze. Looking so fucking gorgeous with her wild hair, beard-burned skin, and kiss-swollen lips, my heart hurts.
“Zak, I need to go back to work,” she says in a serious tone.
My jaw tightens. Every instinct in me screams to keep her here. Safe. Where I can see her. Protect her. Have my men around her when I’m not. But I also understand that she needs this. Her independence, her career.
I cup her face, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Okay.”
She raises a suspicious eyebrow. “Really?”
I chuckle. “Really.” I lean to press my forehead to hers. “We already have a deal. I drop you off and pick you up.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right.”
I kiss her through a smile. Reminding her who she belongs to. Letting my tongue make love to her mouth, tasting her, feeding off her incredible essence.
When I pull back, she’s breathless. Eyes at half-mast. Fucking beautiful.
I slap her full ass, making her giggle. “Get ready, wife.”
* * *
An hour later, we’re in my Maserati. Heading to her clinic in North Shore. My woman is wearing scrubs, with her curls tied back into a ponytail. And all I want to do is pull her into the back seat and fist her hair while I slide my cock down her throat. Watch her gag around my thickness. Her eyes watering, never leaving mine, loving it just as much as I know I fucking will. Fuck…
“You’re staring,” she says, smiling.
“Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
She laughs. “Zak, I’m in scrubs.”
“Still beautiful.”
She shakes her head, still smiling.
When we pull up to the clinic, I park, then turn to face her.
“I’ll be here at five,” I say. “Call me if anything seems off. Trust your instincts.”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, Dad.”
I lean closer, my hand cupping the back of her neck. “I prefer Daddy.”
I wink.
