Zel: Markovic MMA

  Thighs clenching, stomach tightening, Sara breathed erratically as her orgasm built. Stunned by the power of the explosion, she gasped and undulated wildly atop the table. Toes curling, she slapped the tabletop. Her mouth hung open, only unintelligible ahs and moans escaping. Zel kept torturing her until she put her foot against his shoulder and gently shoved him away. “Enough,” she panted. “Enough.”

  He nuzzled her inner thigh and teasingly bit the plump flesh there. She giggled at the ticklish sensation. Slowly, he rose to his feet and peeled off his button-down shirt and dropped it to the floor where it joined his jacket. He took a condom from his wallet, and Sara licked her lips. She ached to be stretched and filled by him again.

  Pants lowered, Zel moved between her legs, his condom-covered cock standing fully erect. He grasped his dick in his hand and traced her labia with it, rubbing it in circles around her still-sensitive clit. The sharp sensation made her jump a bit. Lined up with her body, Zel plunged into her wet depths. He leaned over and caught her mouth in a searing kiss.

  As he took her with long, deep strokes, Sara ran her hands down his back, loving every inch of the muscles rippling beneath her fingers. With that incredible physique, he exemplified masculinity at its finest. The flexing sinews made her feel like some fragile flower in need of protection and the most delicate of touches. No other lover had ever affected her in this way, and Sara found it most intoxicating.

  Zel shifted into a standing position. The new angle of his cock took her breath away. He grabbed her hand and sucked her fingers between his lips. Her belly quivered as his velvety tongue suckled her fingertips. When he placed her fingers against her clit, she understood his silent message. Sara rubbed her slick nub and clenched her pussy around his thrusting cock. He grasped her thighs for leverage, his fingers biting into her skin as he pounded into her. Sara slid up and down the tabletop, her dress bunching around her waist.

  Trembling with need, Sara concentrated on the coiling sensation in her lower belly. Her heels pressed into Zel’s ass as she urged him to fuck her harder, faster. Fingers moving quickly, Sara bit her lower lip as the first faint flutters of an orgasm rocked her core. Zel’s thrusts reached a breakneck pace as he now sought his release. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room. Sara whispered his name again and again as she continued massaging her pulsing clit to draw out every last bit of sensation from her orgasm.

  Zel slammed into her so hard she gasped. Eyes clamped tightly, he shuddered and jerked as he came. Sara clutched at his abs, her fingernails lightly scratching his bronzed torso. She had a sudden desperate need to kiss him, to feel his lips on hers. As if sensing her need, Zel bent down and kissed her so sweetly, his hand lovingly caressing her face. When he pulled back, the tenderness in his gaze nearly brought tears to her eyes. Sara blinked hard against the prickling sensation, refusing to show just how much she actually cared about him.

  He planted a playful kiss on the tip of her nose before standing and pulling out of her. Sara whimpered at the sudden loss of him between her thighs. Smiling, Zel grasped her hands and hauled her into a sitting position. His fingers tangled in her hair as he brought their mouths together again. Worried this might be one of their last kisses, Sara made it count, cupping his square jaw and caressing his face. She wanted to memorize every last detail.

  A knock at the door interrupted their lingering, sweet moment. They both eyed the doors with irritated glances. Sighing, Sara said, “It’s probably bell service. Lucy took a private car to the airport to pick up her wife. They were going right out to a show and dinner. It’s probably Molly’s luggage.”

  He kissed her tenderly. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’m going to tidy up.” She carefully slipped off the table and tugged her skirt back down until it covered her thighs. Zel zipped his pants and pocketed her discarded thong before slipping back into his shirt. He didn’t bother to button it.

  Carefree and comfortable in his skin, he strode toward the door while she scurried into the master suite. She had just ducked into the bathroom when she heard Zel raise his voice in anger. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I guess I’m here to kick your ass!”

  A moment later, the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle filled the penthouse. She rushed back into the living area of the penthouse just in time to see Zel and Ramsay tumble across the floor. Stunned, Sara gaped at the mayhem and violence before her.

  What is he doing here?

  Ramsay kicked out his leg, knocking over a coffee table, as Zel took him down to the marble floor. The glass tabletop shattered when it whacked the floor. The shards sprayed everywhere. A large piece sliced into Ramsay, cutting his back or his arm. He was moving so much that Sara couldn’t tell where, exactly, he had been injured.

  Desperate to keep Zel from getting hurt, she stepped forward to intervene. Zel must have seen her because he snarled, “Don’t!”

  Ramsay took advantage of Zel’s moment of inattention to strike. He snatched up a huge piece of glass and jabbed it close to Zel’s throat. Sara gasped as Zel went to the floor, knocked onto his back as Ramsay threatened to slit his throat.

  And then she saw it.

  A gun.

  Right there.

  On the floor.

  Without thinking, she picked it up and pointed it right at Ramsay’s face. Wondering if she could hit a target so small, she lowered it to his broad chest. “You put that glass down right now, or I’ll shoot.”

  Ramsay laughed. “No, you won’t.”

  “I will!”

  “You’ll miss,” Ramsay retorted, clearly unworried that a gun—his gun—was being pointed right at him.

  “She might,” a familiar voice said from behind her, “but I won’t…”

  Chapter Seven

  Sara glanced at the open doorway of the penthouse where Besian had appeared like some twisted version of a guardian angel. Weapon in hand, he kept it pointed steadily at Ramsay’s head as he closed the door to the suite and advanced into the room. “I feel lucky tonight. Let’s put odds on it, Ramsay. What do you say?”

  Gulping hard, Ramsay seemed to realize he was caught. He moved the glass away from Zel’s neck. A thin stream of blood rolled down Zel’s neck and onto the floor. In the next breath, Zel showed his physical prowess by shoving off the floor, arching up onto his shoulders, and flipping Ramsay onto his back. Zel got the upper hand, wrapping his legs around Ramsay’s waist and clamping her stepbrother’s head between his meaty forearms. Ramsay tried to get free but it was no use. His heavy body began to sag until he passed out cold.

  The sounds of Zel’s heavy breathing filled the room. Blood pooled around Ramsay’s body. Panicked, she lowered the gun and asked, “Is he dead?”

  Zel touched Ramsay’s neck as if to search for a pulse. “He’s alive.”

  “Get away from him,” Besian ordered, flicking the safety onto his own weapon and holstering it. Stepping up close, he said, “Sara, give me the gun.”

  She held still as Besian gingerly removed the weapon, emptied the chamber and the magazine, and rendered it safe. Still shocked by his unexpected appearance, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “You disappeared from the reception. I figured you and Zel had come back here to play. I knew that Ivan wanted him in bed early so I thought I would come up here and see if you wanted to go gamble with me. Like old times,” he said with a reminiscent smile that faded as his gaze landed on Ramsay. “I guess this really is like old times.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said on a rushed breath. “I didn’t know he would go this far.”

  “He’s a crazy bastard,” Besian grumbled. Walking to Zel and Ramsay, he crouched down and touched Zel’s neck. “It’s a bleeder but you’re not going to need stitches. It will be impossible to hide tomorrow.”

  “I cut myself shaving.” Zel practiced his lie, and Sara hated herself for putting him in this position.

  “Help me.” Besian motioned toward the heav
ier man’s body. Together, they rolled Ramsay onto his side and found the gash on the back of his arm. “Sara, get some towels.”

  “Put on some shoes,” Zel added. “There’s glass everywhere.”

  She did as instructed, finding her slippers and towels and rushing back to the men. They tightly wound a towel around the nasty gash on Ramsay’s arm to stem the blood flow. There were smaller gashes and cuts on the back of his head and up and down his back. He wasn’t going to bleed to death, but he would need stitches when he woke up.

  Sara sat back on her heels and looked at the mess surrounding them. Broken glass. A passed out and bleeding ex-con. Zel’s face was bloody, and he was awkwardly holding his left hand. Oh, no…

  “Your hand? Is it—?”

  “It’s fine.” Zel’s answer came clipped and harsh as he stretched out his fingers. He moved carefully, and she worried that he had broken something.

  Judging by the look on Besian’s face, he thought the same thing. Sighing, the boss said, “We need to get Ramsay out of here.”

  “Without anyone seeing him? Without security being called?” Sara rubbed her face between her hands. “If he makes a scene, they’ll drag us all down to the police station. What will happen to Zel’s fight?”

  Zel’s jaw visibly tightened. He had to be thinking the same thing she was. The scandal would ruin him. One dogged journalist with the right sources could find out everything about Zel’s history and hers and blow up their secrets. The fallout would put their lives in danger. Besian was their connection to the Albanian mafia, and he had shielded them for years. But Luka, his boss—his blood—back in Tirana would end them in a heartbeat to protect the Beciraj family.

  “Zel, get dressed and go back to your room.” Besian was already pulling out his cell phone and making a call. “I’m sending Ivan to meet you.”

  “I’m not leaving Sara.”

  Besian’s gaze darkened in that terrifying way he had perfected. It was that stare he used to remind grown men like Zel that he could make them disappear with a snap of his fingers. “I wasn’t asking.”

  Zel wasn’t going to back down. Still amped up from his fight, he stepped forward, and Sara reacted instantly. The instinct to protect Zel was so strong. She moved between both men and put her hand on Zel’s chest in a soothing gesture. Gazing up at him, she pleaded, “Please go.”

  Seemingly taken aback, Zel asked, “You want me to leave? You want him to stay?”

  Sara swallowed anxiously. “I trust him.”

  “More than me?”

  In that moment, Sara understood what had to be done. Zel was the finest man she had ever known. He was good inside. He was the kind of man who was going to make some woman very happy someday. He would be a wonderful husband and a father—just never with her.

  Because you’re poison.

  It was a memory from long ago that resurfaced. Lalo’s voice filled her head as he hissed his venom at her. Some part of her had always believed him. Every single relationship she’d had with a man had ended badly. Maybe Lalo had been right. Maybe there was something wrong with her.

  “I don’t know you, Zel,” she said finally. “I’ve known Besian for ten years.”

  “I see,” he ground out the words between gritted teeth.

  He didn’t see, and she was glad. She was relieved he couldn’t see the way she was breaking apart inside as she hurt him so cruelly.

  As if unable to walk away without fighting for her, he touched her face. “Sara, I think we have something real between us. We’d be stupid to let a chance like this go.”

  “You would be stupid to stay with me.” She stepped away from him, away from the warm hand touching her so gently, and gestured to the door. “You need to leave now.”

  Pain flashed across his face. She felt sick for having hurt him.

  “I’ll go,” he said finally. Clearly upset, he strode to the door without as much as a sideways glance in her direction. Zel yanked open the door, and Sara realized she couldn’t let him leave like this.

  “Zel, wait!”

  He stopped abruptly. Slowly he pivoted to face her. His steeled expression made her wince. “What?”

  She gulped under his angry glare. “I’m sorry.”

  His cheek twitched. “I don’t think you are.”

  Hot tears stung her eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this.”

  “No one ever does.”

  His piece said, Zel left, slamming the door behind him. Sara stared at the door for a long time, until Besian finally put a cautious hand on her shoulder. With a friendly squeeze, he said, “Sara, go into the bedroom and close the door. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

  Numb and cold, she glanced around the destroyed living room. She suddenly remembered something very important. “Lucy and Molly are here. They’re doing dinner and a show and then some gambling.”

  “I’ll take care of it, Sara. They’ll never know this happened.”

  She didn’t dare ask him for the details. Besian’s connections weren’t limited to Houston. He’d built his empire back home on loans and gambling. He spent a lot of time in Vegas and knew all the right people here. Like a stage magician, he would wave his hand and make this whole mess disappear.

  Her gaze lingered on Ramsay who seemed to be coming around. He had come here with malicious intent tonight yet she couldn’t condemn him. Touching Besian’s arm, she said, “Please don’t kill him.”

  “He came all the way from Houston to harass you, Sara. He brought a gun to your door. If Zel hadn’t been here, Ramsay would have kidnapped or killed you.”

  “He didn’t hurt me. He’s a terrible person,” she agreed, “but I don’t think either one of us needs his death on our consciences.”

  “If he won’t cooperate?” Besian slashed his hand in front of his throat. “He’s done.”

  Mutely, she nodded. Besian pointed to the bedroom, and she picked up the clutch she had discarded earlier and retreated to the safety of the master suite. She checked her phone and expelled a relieved breath when she saw Lucy’s messages. Her sister and sister-in-law had decided to make a wild night of it and didn’t think they would be back to the room until the very, very early hours of the morning.

  Not wanting to hear anything that was happening in the living room of the penthouse, Sara turned on the television and then made her way into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. When she sat on the tiled bench, she broke down, burying her face in her hands and sobbing as the warm water spilled over her tired body.

  Just a few hours ago, she had been sitting next to Zel, watching Shay and Alexei get married while dreaming of all the possibilities a future with him presented. Now? Now she was shattered inside, broken like a mirror. In her mind, she tabulated the many mistakes she had made in her life. There were so many decisions she questioned, so many things she regretted.

  If only. If only. If only.

  But this was the real world, and in the real world, she had to live with her choices and her mistakes. If that meant that she had to live her life alone? Well…so be it.

  “Sara?” Besian knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you all right?”

  Clearing her throat, she wiped at her eyes. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  Heartsick and broken, she finished her shower and changed into a pair of comfortable pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt. She found Besian kicked back on the couch in the master suite, a glass of scotch in one hand while he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. He seemed tired, more tired than usual, and leaner. It had only been a handful of months since he’d been shot. He’d returned to work remarkably fast, maybe even too fast.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” he grumbled. “I’m not an invalid.”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  “You didn’t have to,” he groused. He gestured to the room service spread of late night snacks and alcohol. Holding up a glass of white wine, he said, “It’s your favorite.”

  Moscato. Of course. S
he dropped onto the cushion next to Besian and took a long, deep drink of the sweet wine.

  Besian’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “I guess it’s a good thing I ordered a whole bottle.”

  “Yep,” she said, already sitting forward to refill her glass. “I’m not going to ask about Ramsay.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest it,” he dryly replied. “It’s done. He’s gone. You won’t have to worry about him ever again.”

  She didn’t ask about the security tapes that were sure to have his face on them. Besian he had probably paid to make them disappear, or he’d used a local cleaner to tidy up the loose ends.

  “Housekeeping cleaned away all the glass and blood. The concierge will send up a new table tomorrow. It’s going on my bill. I told him that I had a little too much to drink and tripped.”

  “You should have blamed it on me.”

  He shrugged. “They know me here.”

  “You haven’t partied like that in years.”

  “That’s what happens when you get old like me,” he warned with a playful smile.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re not old.”

  “I feel old.” He rubbed his chest again.

  “You were shot. You’re supposed to hurt and feel old after that.”

  “It’s more than that,” he said, his voice wistful and his gaze dark. “I was sitting there watching Alexei marry Shay, and it hit me. I’m the last one who isn’t dead or married. Ivan? Married. Alexei? Married. Nikolai? Married. Julio? Dead. Lorenzo? Dead. Lalo? Dead.” He shook his head. “This life tried to kill me—and nearly succeeded.”

  “But you’re alive,” she insisted.

  “For what? To make money? What the fuck kind of life is that? I have power. I have money. I have a beautiful home, cars, property…”

  “But you’re alone,” she finished for him.