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But still, I had her in my arms and couldn’t let go. I’d slipped my hands across her body, and she was no longer my adopted kid sister. She was a sexy, lush woman I yearned to taste.

I can’t go back on this. We need to figure it out. She wants me just as much as I crave her.

When her body pressed against mine, her nipples poked at my chest. I bet she’d gotten wet and hungry. I imagined it as I swayed my hips with hers and went erect. Even now, in the car, I sat next to her hard and ready to stuff her with my cock.

I cleared my throat.

Takako snapped my way. They said nothing, but anger filled their eyes. I wondered if they were upset due to Zola cutting them off, or if they had a problem with me.

Rolling their eyes, Takako turned away and gazed outside the window.

I need Baptiste to do some deeper research into all of them—Takako, Alexander, and CiCi. They’re the closest to her. They might know something, or they’re a part of the stalking in some way.

When we arrived at Takako’s building, I checked my side and realized Zola had fallen asleep.

I knew you were tired.

The driver eased back into Manhattan’s midnight traffic.

I studied Zola as she slept. The moonlight and Manhattan’s glow shined on her through the car window, dancing all over her brown skin. I had a perfect view of her, not that I ever needed one. Her face had been imprinted in my mind since the first time I’d met her. Upon that moment, she’d been my only dark obsession. And the more time I spent with her, the more it grew and grew inside my chest.

I couldn’t stop staring at her lips. How many years had I dreamt about tasting them? How many nights had I pretended to kiss her as I placed my mouth on others? How dumb was I to deny myself Zola? How stupid? Was it that necessary to be so careful? Should I just take it there and see what happens?

Her chest rose and fell with soft breaths. Those big, lush breasts strained tight against the dress’s material. With the way she leaned in the seat, her legs had spread open, giving me a small peek of red panties.

My cock grew in my pants. I turned away, but not before groaning out her name. “Zola.”

I’d been well-behaved tonight, and so I looked again. I couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward and stared between those soft thighs.

Her pussy was right there. If I extended my hand a little, I could touch it. I could slip the red silk back and play with those little folds pressed against the material. I inhaled, loving the scent of her.

Stop it. You’re being a fucking creep. No better than the stalker.

I forced myself to lean back in the seat. That dark urge spiraled inside of me, blazed on fire. My skin heated. My cock jerked in my pants. I grabbed it, rubbing the tip a little bit to calm myself down.

Of course, it didn’t work.

Zola moaned a little in her sleep.

And it was in that moment that I wanted to hear her moan again. Images of me stuffing her with my cock struck me. All I could think about was the dirtiest things, unloading cum all inside her. Long, hot white streams.

My balls ached to get the job done.

I slipped my hand over my thick length and then grabbed my balls, giving them a small tug. The ache shifted to hungry throbbing. It never got better, but how would it?

My obsession lay asleep with those thighs spread, taunting the shit out of me.

And my cock had goals. He’d aimed her way, and was ready to slip through those pussy lips, slick and aroused. Sliding right inside the softest place on her body. My cock understood the barriers in our way but didn’t give a fuck. The beast in me took over. I yearned to fuck her. To thrust to the hilt.

Zeus. Apollo.

Those lips had me in a trance. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I could’ve had one moment with those lips. She’d asked long ago, and I’d said no. But now, I very much wanted to not only kiss that mouth but that pussy too.

Yahweh. Jah.

I closed my eyes in an attempt to get control of myself, but I couldn’t stop thinking that I should’ve kissed her that one night. It was an evening I’d pushed out of my head for so long.

In the car, it all came back to me.

Zola had shown up to the house drunk. I’d been home after my first set of military training. It was a surprise visit.

In all truth, I’d just want to come home and be near them for a few minutes. I’d missed the smell of them—Mrs. Ellen’s roasted duck in simmering red wine, the cozy aroma of burning wood from York’s famous winter bonfires that always came close to getting out of hand, and most of all, Zola’s natural perfume of flowers.