Wicked Surrender (Hollis Brothers Book 3) Read online

  Yes, he’d missed her.

  He changed their positions, laying her on her back on the couch before he came over her. Hovering slightly above her with his arms supporting him, he teased her lips with slight nibbles before moving his attention from them to the rest of her.

  A touch of his lips on her chin, a flick of his tongue along the long column of her neck, soft kisses down her torso then thighs so he could get to the hem of her black faux-leather dress. He pushed her dress up, leaning back slightly so that London could lift up and help him remove it. Within seconds, her dress was flying off of her.

  “London.” Zeke sucked in a steadying breath when she was finally revealed him. He knelt between her legs, absorbing her, taking in her pert breasts and their brown tips already hard with pleasure, her trim tummy, her curvy thighs that cupped her feminine mound only hidden from his gaze by her white thong. “You’re so damn sexy.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” She smiled up at him. Her hands lowered to the waistband of her thong and she started to push it down her thighs. “But you’d be much sexier if you got rid of those clothes.”

  After that everything was a blur - a sexy blur of passion. Frankly, Zeke couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever undressed or wrapped up that fast. The moment her naked skin met his, logic was replaced by animal instinct and need.

  His self-control disappeared somewhere between feeling the soft cushion of her breasts meeting the hard planes of his chest and her legs coming up to wrap around his flanks. His ability to think was shattered somewhere between her lips meeting his in a scorching kiss and her rubbing her pussy against his cock. Zeke didn’t even know how it happened but suddenly he was pushing himself into her, pressing his cock hard against her snug entrance.

  “Aaah!” London clung to his arms, her fingernails digging into his muscles painfully. But he barely felt the pain - he was beyond it. The only sensation he was capable of feeling right now was pleasure - and what pleasure it was! The feeling of her body wrapping itself around him, welcoming him, tightening around.

  “Fuck,” he cussed as he pressed his forehead against London’s. His breathing as harsh as her, and his grip on the back of her thighs as hard as hers on his arms he plunged deeper into her.

  “Oh - ah- oh-Zek - ah… sss!” Her broken whimpers filled the room even as her body opened up for him, her wetness wetting his shaft and making the plunge in even sweeter… so damn sweet. Though he’d been completely inside her before, it was a still a tight fit. So he had to push, and push, and push… she gave in.

  “Oh, damn!” he grunted. The emotions that rose within him at that complete merging, at being so sealed so tightly inside her, were hard to explain. If satisfaction and pleasure had a love-child - it wouldn’t even be half of what he was feeling. It was as if London was really a part of him, a part he didn’t even know he was missing until now that it was in his possession. Being in her and holding her felt so perfect, so right. Like he was finally home.

  Fixing his lips on hers, he held himself motionless inside her and gave her the time she needed to adjust to his size. After several moments of passionate kissing and smoothing his hands over the rest of her body, he finally received the signals that she was ready for him; a slight relaxation around him accompanied by more of her honeyed sweetness coating his cock. It was time.

  He flexed his shaft out of her then pushed back in a slow, measured, long stroke that dragged a whimper from her lips. He swallowed that whimper with his lips, lashing his tongue against hers as he pulled back out again. This time the push back was so sweet it was enough to rip a groan from him too.

  “Yes, yes, yesss - aaah, Zeke!” London encouraged him. Cupping her ass to lift her higher and deeper into his stroke, he tucked his head into the crook of her shoulder then pulled back his hips. He thudded back into her strongly.

  “Fuck, that feels good,” he muttered roughly against her throat.

  “Oh - my- Go- Zeke.” She spread her thighs to give him more space to move.

  Sucking on the soft, sweet skin of her neck, he pulled back then pistoned in with a thrust that was so sweet he felt his balls tightening. No. No. He wasn’t going to cum before her. He needed to get a grip on himself. Sucking in steadying gulp of air, Zeke lifted up on his elbows. Watching her face carefully, he pulled his cock out to the very tip before pushing right back in.

  “Ah. Ah. Ah,” London cried out. Those cries got louder as he established his rhythm.

  Long. Slow. Steady. Hard.

  In. Out. In. Out.

  The exhilarating relief that went through Zeke when he finally felt those telltale shudders of her body were indescribable. Every inch of her tensed, her eyelids fluttered shut over her eyes and her mouth opened in her silent scream as her walls tightened around his shaft, contracting around him. Then she was arching upwards, calling out his name as her orgasm tore through her.

  Zeke’s in and out pumps became stronger, shorter, faster, more furious as his body prepared for its release. Holding her tight to him, he kept stroking as sharp pleasure began to flood him. He was drowning in it, getting overwhelmed…

  He groaned as his orgasm smashed into him like a freight truck. A kaleidoscope of colors burst behind his eyes as he tucked himself in deep. Her warm, tight pussy enveloped him, milked him, took everything he offered then begged for more. And more he gave. Over and over until she’d wrung every ounce of pleasure from him. Finally drained, he slumped half-over her and dragged in a deep gulp of air.

  CHAPTER 19

  Well, it was official. She was weak, London thought resignedly as she lay in Zeke’s arms several hours later. Judging by how enthusiastically she’d fallen into his arms it was hard to believe that three days ago she was trumpeting about never having sex with him again.

  Have you considered seeing a therapist about your lack of self-control? her sub-conscious taunted her as she stared at the shadow of the bedside lamp. Therapists weren’t her thing but if one could wean her off her Zeke-addiction then maybe it was time to try it.

  As if he could tell she was thinking about him, Zeke scooted closer to her. His naked chest pressed into her back, and his arm tightened around her torso while he fit his leg between hers. The moment the fine hairs on his legs brushed her skin, her whole body lit up in awareness as if rearing for round three or was it four?

  She heaved a frustrated sigh. One would think that after one unplanned session, she’d be more wary of him- maybe even walk away. But apparently stupid was a terminal affliction, not a onetime thing. She was the one who’d instigated the next round.

  Yup! There was definitely something wrong with her.

  Seriously, what was she going to do? It was obvious that she couldn’t continue on this path without expecting to be hurt, but it was equally obvious that she didn’t have the willpower to turn back. One word from him, one seductive look, one kiss - and she was falling into his arms like a fool. She was like a moth, drawn to a flame she knew would singe her wings yet unable to keep from flying straight into it.

  Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. The vibrating of her phone cut into her troubled musings. She arched forward to reach for the phone. Behind her Zeke grunted in protest even as his hold around her waist tightened further. Her brow furrowed when she saw the name on her screen.

  “Saif?” She answered the phone.

  “London, you need to come over to our apartment,” he rushed in immediately, sounding out-of-breath and panicked.

  She lifted onto her elbow as she asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Enzo’s locked himself in his room, and he’s threatening to kill himself if you don’t come over.”

  “What?” London exclaimed as she sat up completely. Her vigorous movement was enough to yank Zeke out of his sleep too and he sat up too, though more slowly. Reaching over to flick the bedside lamp on, she asked, “Has anyone tried talking to him?”

  She realized how dumb that question was even before Saif said, “Of course. But he won’t listen to anyone.
He wants you.”

  “Kick the door open,” she suggested as she pushed away the covers and slid her feet to the carpeted floor.

  “I’ve tried. Bloody thing won’t open and I can’t find the spare key.”

  She didn’t even bother suggesting nine-one-one. The last time Enzo had threatened suicide, they’d called for help and he’d ended up being hospitalized for seventy-two hours. It’d taken him forever to forgive them for his stay at the psych ward.

  Saif pleaded, “You have to come over. Please!”

  “Okay, I am on my way.”

  “What’s going on?” Zeke asked as he plucked his specs from the nightstand and pushed them up his nose.

  “Enzo. Threatening to kill himself,” she summarized, as she lifted off the bed to search the room for her clothes. “I have to go.”

  Zeke must’ve brought her clothes into the bedroom sometime after the interlude because they were neatly folded on the armchair by the window. Watching her as she quickly dressed up, he asked silently, “Are you sure this isn’t just another ploy to get you to date him?”

  “It probably is.” Her breath hitched as she tugged her dress over her head. “But I still have to make sure he’s okay.”

  “I’ll drive you there.” Zeke started to push back the covers.

  “No, you shouldn’t. How will we explain you and I being together at-” She glanced at the bedside clock “- three a.m. to Enzo and Saif? We’re supposed to be just friends, remember?”

  He was quiet for a while then he sighed. “You’re right.”

  His words sent a pang of disappointment through her. A part of her wanted him to insist on going with her, to say that supporting her was more important than keeping their ‘relationship’ hidden. But that would never happen, would it?

  Tapping down on her disappointment, she said, “I’ll just take a cab to his place.”

  “No. Let me get you a car to drop you off then,” Zeke offered. “I don’t want you alone in some strange cab at this time of the night.”

  While he called the lobby to organize for the car, she finished dressing up, her heart thrumming hard with panic.

  “Thanks, Charlie,” Zeke ended the call. He turned to London. “The car’s waiting for you at the entrance.”

  “Thank you.” She started towards the door.

  “London, wait.” Zeke strode towards her, naked as the day he was born and unashamed. As soon as he was close enough, he bent to press a soft kiss to her lips. His eyes shadowed with concern he said, “Call me when you get there and let me know how he’s doing.”

  “I will.” She cupped her hand over his cheek and lifted up to give him another kiss. “Bye.”

  With it being so late, the roads were practically empty and it took her less than twenty minutes to get to the apartment that Enzo shared with Saif. She only had to knock once and the door swung open to reveal a disheveled, red-eyed, Saif.

  “Thank God, you’re here. He’s still in his bedroom.” Saif raced ahead of her to Enzo’s bedroom.

  “Enzo. Enzo.” London thumped on the door. “Enzo, let us in.”

  “London, is that you?” he called out groggily from the room.

  “Yes, it’s me.” She pressed her ear to the door. “Whatever you’re doing in there, stop it and open the door, Enzo.”

  “You came?” His voice sounded much closer as if he was standing next to the door.

  “Yes, I came,” she said softly. “Please open the door so I can see you.”

  “I knew you loved me.” Seconds later a lock snapped and the door flew open. She was immediately struck by the pungent smell of alcohol. Then Enzo embraced - or rather fell on her. “I love you too. I love you so much.”

  “What did you take?” London grunted as she struggled to support his weight. Saif came to her aid, slinging his arm around Enzo’s waist.

  “You’re my soul- soul mate,” Enzo declared sluggishly, his alcohol enhanced breath almost blowing her off her feet.

  “What have you taken?” she asked.

  “Do you know how much I love you?” He ignored her question. “It’s you and me forever, London. You and me, forever.”

  “Saif, can you get him to the living-room?” London turned her attention to someone with more sense. “I want to check what he’s taken.”

  As Saif and Enzo stumbled into the living-room, London entered the room. She was immediately hit by a rancid smell that could’ve been rotten food or maybe a body. Making a disgusted face, she rifled through his clothes, beddings, dirty utensils and even the rubbish littering the stained carpet.

  After several minutes of ardent searching, she realized that the only suicide Enzo was capable of committing was alcohol-poisoning. There wasn’t so much an aspirin in the room. She checked for a gun too - but there was none.

  It was unfortunate for him that he hadn’t killed himself. Because she was about to do it for him. Anger carrying her, she headed to the living-room. Only for her plan to be thwarted. Mr. Suicidal was sprawled out on the couch, snoring his head off.

  BY THE NEXT evening Enzo had sobered up. But that bastard didn’t even have the decency to be embarrassed when London confronted him backstage before their performance.

  “What the hell was that?” London threw her hands up in frustration. “Do you know how much you scared us?”

  “Yeah, well I didn’t ask anyone to save me,” Enzo retorted sulkily.

  “You didn’t ask-” She paused and took a step back. She sucked in a huge calming breath because if she didn’t calm down she was going to slap the taste out of his mouth. Once she’d reeled her anger back under her control, she said, “You need to stop this drama.”

  “Wow!” Enzo slicked back his hair. “You call my very-real breakdown drama? I never thought you were so callous. You’ve changed, London.”

  “Breakdown my ass,” she scoffed. “Since when did drinking yourself silly become a real breakdown?” Narrowing her eyes, she wagged her finger at him, “I’m telling your right now, you pull another stunt like that and you’re on your own. No more Captain Save-A-Drunk from me.” She started to walk away from him but his next words stopped her in her tracks.

  “You’re just treating me this way because of Zeke Landa-Hollis,” he yelled.

  She turned back sharply to face him. “Excuse me?”

  “We’re not stupid or blind.” His face scrunched up in an angry expression filled with malice as his voice rose so loudly everyone in the room could hear him. “We’ve noticed you and Zeke. How you’re always hanging around each other. How you’re always staying back pretending to be waiting for Shakira. Right, guys?” He looked back to get the support of the rest of their band.

  “Ho, he went there!” D’Angelo cupped his hands over his mouth

  “I don’t know shit!” Maurice murmured as he continued to unpack his violin.

  “Don’t drag us into your issues,” Saif warned.

  “Whatever!” Enzo dismissed their words with a glib wave of his hand. He turned his anger back to London. “Are you fucking him?”

  For a moment, London was so shocked that she couldn’t even utter a word, she could only stare at him. When her tongue could finally move all she had to say to him was, “Fuck you!”

  “I wish you would,” he mocked with a laugh. “Tell you what? Give me a chance with you, and I’ll forget that I’ve ever seen you with Zeke.”

  “Fuck. You.” This time her words were more succinct. She took a step closer to him, drawing up her chest as anger seared through her. Enzo was much taller than her but she didn’t give a damn. She closed in on him until she was so close their toes were practically touching.

  “If you think that you can blackmail me into dating you, then you’ve got the wrong woman, buddy!” Anger vibrating in her voice, she added, “And the next time your think of talking to me like that think again because-” She reached between them and grabbed his balls.

  “Fu-” He immediately doubled over, his face creasing with pain. “Shit
.”

  She squeezed hard. “- Because I will rip your balls off. You better got it?” He looked up at her with pained eyes but didn’t answer. So she squeezed again. “Got it.”

  “Yes. Yes.” Enzo exhaled loudly when she finally released him.

  She jabbed her finger on his forehead and shoved his head back. “Get your life.”

  Unbelievable! Even singing was not enough to soothe London. By the time they ended the night’s performance, she was still reeling in anger. Enzo had really intended to blackmail her into loving him? And to think that she’d once called him her friend. It was fortunate that after their confrontation in the backroom he’d chosen to skip tonight’s performance because she wasn’t sure she could look into his face without planting her fist into it.

  “London.” A deep voice called out from behind her. “London Pistol?”

  London turned from where she was helping Saif pack up his drums to face the man. The moment she did, she recognized him. She inhaled sharply. “Vicker?”

  “Ah. So you know me?” Vicker smiled. The man was even better looking in person than on TV. Over six-feet tall, baldheaded and with a goatee peppered in black and white, the man was an Idris Elba look-alike.

  “Of course I know you.” London’s eyes widened in excitement as she gaped at him. “Who doesn’t?” Certainly not anyone who knew anything about the music industry. Vicker was a successful entrepreneur and music producer extraordinaire, fondly called Mr. Midas by the media because any singer he touched turned to gold. The guy was so famous, he went by one name like Cher or Madonna.

  London gasped, “I can’t believe I’m talking to Vicker, the Vicker.”

  “And if I have my way, we’ll be talking a lot more.” He stretched out his hand to greet her. “I have an offer for you, Miss Pistol.”