Indebted (A Kingpin Love Affair 1)

As soon as I close my eyes, I hear the front door open. Laughter and greetings sound, and then it is quiet. Footsteps follow suit, and then Zerro makes his appearance. He busts through the bedroom door. His eyes are slightly glazed, but he mostly looks tired. I hear laughter again as he turns around to talk to someone in the hall.

“Goodnight, Alassandra.” His voice is velvety soft when he says her name, and I won’t be fucking surprised if she has her legs spread, begging for him. His voice just has that effect.

The girl says something back that I can’t hear before he closes the door and turns around and sees me. Shock shows first and then something else. That same thing I saw before.

“Who let you out?” He completely ignores my presence as he takes a drink from the glass in his hand. There is no hi, hello, how the fuck are you. He doesn’t even point a gun at me. To be honest, I am kind of pissed. I so badly want to throw in his face what Mack did to me, but I don’t think it will matter to him. He won’t care. After all, I am nothing to him but a debt.

“I’m not a fucking dog.” I try my hardest to sound mean. I want to lash out at him with words because let’s face it, I won’t ever be able to physically hurt him. Mentally, though…I can do that. I can break him down, cut him, turn him inside out, just like he does to me.

“I didn’t refer to you as a dog, now did I?” His smirk says asshole, but his body says I can have you if I want you. I hate it. I love it. I really want to shoot him.

“Where were you?” I ask, changing the subject. I know it sounds like a typical housewife to be asking where he was, and since we aren’t anything, I have no real reason to know. Except I want to know.

He smiles, and his eyebrow raises. I am afraid he won’t tell me since there are numerous things I know he has to be keeping from me.

“Jealously doesn’t really suit you… “

“You don’t know what suits me,” I point out, pursing my lips

He covers the distance between us. I am still lying in his bed, surrounded by his scent. I am drowning in a sea of Alzerro King.

I smell the bourbon from his drink as he swirls the brown liquid in his glass. It mesmerizes me, putting me in a trance. It sloshes over the side, and eventually he brings it to his lips, drinking it. His lips lick at his drink as if he wants to get every last drop.

“I know this much, sweetheart…” He is on me, surrounding me. The monster has captured his prey. His eyes skim over my lips and up my face before landing on mine again. “Jealously is something that you’re feeling. I know it because I see it in your eyes. It’s cute, in a way. There’s something you must know about me, though, I don’t care if something bothers you.” He is whispering, hypnotizing me. I can’t tear my eyes away from his.

“I’m the king. I do. Whatever. The. Fuck. I. Want.” Every word forces his hot breath onto my face. I want to bite him just to see what he tastes like. As fucked up as all this is, I want him. I want him even when he is telling me he doesn’t give a fuck about what I think.

“No. You’re a prick. A self-righteous-I’ll-shoot-you-at-point-blank-range prick.” The air shifts around us, and my skin feels as if it is on fire.

Zerro stares at me with an expression that shows he is very much annoyed with my talking.

I open my mouth to say something, but no words ever come. The air hangs between us, and I look down to his hand around my throat, clasping it. He pushes me to the back of the headboard, and I can feel the oxygen deprivation.

“I’m not scared of you,” I inform him with everything in me. Even if I am going to die, I will do it in a fashion that is me. He will know I died unafraid of him, and that to me is the most important thing.

A war rages within him as his muscles constrict. He can’t decide if he wants to strangle me or not… He unclasps his hand, and I swallow a breath of air just in time. His hand clenches again, and I swear I feel the bones in my neck snapping.

Or maybe it is all a dream. I know the moment he makes his decision because a tenderness shows in his eyes.

“You should be…” he mumbles against my throat as he kisses the bruises that I am sure are there. There is a tenderness in the way he caresses me. It is as if he is trying to scrub away the bad, as if he wants to take the hurt away. He is conflicted, and fucked up I can’t even describe him.

“I’m not. To be scared will be to show weakness, and I know better than to show weakness in front of some self-righteous asshole.” My words are laced with so much hate. I feel like I am trying to make myself like him less, as if saying the words out loud will make him less appealing to my body, to my heart.

“Being scared doesn’t make you weak…” His eyes glaze over, hazy with a memory, I’m sure. He had to have had a fucked up childhood to have turned into the beautifully damaged man he is. He never speaks of his mother or father. He never says he had any siblings, and though he doesn’t ask me about my life, he knows a lot more about me than I know about him.

“In the eyes of a monster like you it does.” His lips lick over one of my bruises and trail up to my ear. The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I feel a surge of adrenaline go through me. His teeth nibble at my lobe, and I feel myself growing weak against him. My defenses are nothing when it comes to the things he can do with his mouth.