8. Zeke

8

ZEKE

I t took me several moments to catch my breath. Had I ever come that hard from my own hand before? I didn’t think so.

The porn I’d found was seriously hot. That had to be the reason. It wasn’t because I’d been thinking of my stalker the whole time.

If only that was true.

Fuck. I’d hardly paid attention to the two men on the screen even as one of them got fucked within an inch of his life. The bigger man had been harsh, brutal, like I wanted my stalker to be with me. I’d been imaging everything he might do to me and wishing it was his hand wrapped around me, gripping me tightly and pinning me down.

He liked control. I was sure of that, and damn if it wouldn’t feel good to just surrender to a man like him.

Even when I was living up to my slutty reputation in Las Vegas, I rarely let myself go with a man. I was too guarded to have more than a fast fuck or to put a man on his knees and let him suck me. I’d had fans begging to do just that, and I was sure I’d gain that same type of following here if I could keep myself together, focus on the fucking game, and stay away from anything that would put me in even more debt.

Fucking your stalker wouldn’t cost a thing.

Or it might cost me everything. There were so many red flags waving at me when I looked at him. The fact that he was stalking me should be enough on its own. There was also the fact that he hadn’t had any trouble figuring out where I was or getting my number. Everything about his presence told me he was dangerous as fuck.

I needed to stay away from danger, from anyone even vaguely sinister. I could pick up some cute hockey twinks if I needed a fuck that badly. That would take care of physical needs.

My stalker might take care of something far deeper, some itch I hadn’t been able to scratch, the whole reason I went seeking risk and danger, but I had to forget about that. All my risk-taking had gotten me was a huge debt and some very bad people after me. I was already looking over my shoulder, I didn’t need another reason to. Even if he was just an obsessed fan, I still needed to stay away from him.

But is that what you really want, to live like a saint? Never going out, saving all your money ?

I want stability.

Without any excitement?

I can’t afford excitement right now. Maybe later, when the stability was there to hold me up. Until I took care of my current problems, fantasizing would have to be enough.

It’s never going to be enough. You need to know what it would be like to let him have you. To get down on your knees for him and offer what you want. You need to feel his hands on you again.

No, what I needed was to figure out how I was going to pay off my loan before I got hurt. Was I really going to call the Marchesis?

Did I have any other choice? Who was going to look at my finances and loan me money other than another group of loan sharks like the assholes I was already in trouble with?

But this time I’d be able to pay it off, and I wouldn’t make it bigger by gambling away my earnings.

Are you sure?

Yes, I’m done with that, and it will be a hell of a lot easier to quit here than in fucking Vegas. If I can set up a payment plan, I can stick to it. I’m making boatloads money, and I only need a small fraction of it to live on if I keep my life simple.

I caught sight of the Rolex on my coffee table and shook my head. I’d bought a lot of things I didn’t need. I could hold off on more luxuries until all my debts were paid.

My friend said the Marchesis were my best chance.

He also said they were scary as fuck.

Was I really going to fucking approach the most dangerous family in Boston?

If I didn’t pay them back I would suffer, again and again, and then I would die. I knew their reputation. They didn’t just kill people; they made them wish they were dead first.

I had no business getting involved with them.

But if I got a loan, the threats would stop, and I could buy myself time.

Or buy yourself into an early grave.

I had to do something. I couldn’t be constantly watching for someone to show up and beat the money out of me.

I could make payments, just not one big enough to settle the debt I owed. If I could pay off the guys in Vegas, I’d be able to breathe.

I picked up my phone and made the call. It rang twice before someone picked up. “Marchesi Insurance, how can I help you?”