Chapter 83

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

ZAIN

It takes every bit of willpower and self-control I've developed over the years not to come the second my dick is inside her.

I focus on the room, the color of the walls, the stupid ornaments on the shelves, the light switches. Anything that isn't the woman in my arms.

But that only lasts for so long, and when she starts chanting my name, I know I've lost the battle. I can't hold off any longer, but I sure as fuck am not going to come before she does.

I manage to hang on to my thread of control until her body bucks and arches. It feels like my dick is swelling, getting harder, and I pull out of her body just in time to come all over her stomach.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I grind out the word from between gritted teeth, rolling off the couch and onto my knees on the floor.

Head bowed, one hand braced on the carpet, I fight to get control of my breathing. The world is spinning, lights flaring behind my eyes, and I'm sure my heart is going to burst out of my chest at any second.

Has sex always been that good, or is it because it's been so long?

I swallow against the dryness of my mouth. My throat is tight, breathing is hard. But slowly my heart rate slows, and my vision returns.

Movement beside me, has me turning my head in time to see Ashley sit up. She meets my gaze.

"I should …" she waves a hand at where my cum is covering her stomach. "I need to clean up."

I nod. "There's a restroom at the other end of the kitchen."

She looks around, grabs my T-shirt and presses it to the sticky mess on her stomach, then stands and sways for a second. She catches me watching her and gives a shaky laugh. It draws an answering smile from me, and I reach out to run my fingers down her thigh.

"We'll talk when you're done."

She bites her lip, then gives a small nod of her head. I don't move from where I'm kneeling, and just watch her walk across the room, admiring the sway of her hips.

Less than three seconds after she's left the room, my cell phone's ringtone sounds. Looking around, I find my sweats, and take the cell out of a pocket.

"Yeah?"

"Zain?"

I pull the cell away from my ear and look at the number. The voice is familiar, but it's not in my contacts.

"Who is this?"

"It's Esme. Is Ashley there?"

"She's just gone to the bathroom. Is everything okay?"

"Her friends from New York are here. They want to see her. "

I check the time. It's been at least ninety minutes since the end of the interview aired. Did they watch the beginning and set off immediately, or were they already on their way? Not that it matters. I've been expecting them to show up, and it's a reminder of what I'm supposed to be doing.

I push to my feet. "I can get her to call you back once she's done."

"They're worried about her, and would like to come and see her. I have to be honest, I'm a little concerned myself. What's all this about you being married?"

There's a sound of breaking glass from the direction of the kitchen. I wedge the cell between my ear and shoulder and pull on my sweats.

Has Ashley dropped a glass?

That question is answered a second later when a scream rings out. The hairs lift on the back of my neck.

"Esme, I have to go. Can I call you back?" I set off toward the kitchen.

"The girls want to come and see her. Do you mind if I give them your address?"

"Yes … no. I'm not at my parents' place. I don't think you have my address. Look, give me five minutes, and I'll get her to call you back." I don't wait for Esme to reply, and end the call.

"Ashley?"

There's no answer.

" Ashley? " I shout louder, pushing the door to the kitchen open .

The first thing I see is the door leading to the back of the property swinging open.

Did she run again?

But then my eyes catch on the red splatter on the white tiled floor.

What the fuck?

I stab at the screen of my cell phone, and lift it to my ear.

"Sheriff McFadden."

"It's me."

"I don't have much of an update for you yet."

"Did you make that arrest?"

"Yes. He's not talking, though."

I crouch beside the drops of blood, then straighten and step outside. It's completely silent. Not even a bird singing.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"I don't think it was him." My voice is a lot steadier than it should be, because inside my mind is screaming at me.

"How do you know?"

How do I know? Because there's blood on my fucking floor.

"Because I think someone has just taken Ashley from my house. "

Thank you for reading Ruthless Intent