Zel: Markovic MMA (5 page)

Sara’s eyes lit up and she nodded happily. Looking incredibly sexy, she crawled toward him and straddled his hips. She grasped the base of his thick cock and lifted her ass, lining up their bodies for the ultimate joining. Satisfied moans escaped their lips as she took ever last inch of his shaft. She sat still for a moment, as if savoring the new sensation of being filled by him.

His hands moved to her thick waist, his fingers grasping her plump hips as he guided her slow movements. She swayed back and forth and swiveled her hips in circles. The look on her face told him all he needed to know. She was loving every minute of riding his cock.

Bit-by-bit Sara’s pace quickened, as did the force of her strokes. Hands on his chest, she shifted her weight from her knees to her feet and bounced hard on him. He was taken aback by the vision of this luscious beauty. Those gorgeous tits bounced just inches from his face, tempting him with their rosy peaks. Licking his lips, he leaned forward and sucked a stiff nipple into his mouth. Sara whimpered and pushed against him. A smile played upon her pouting lips.

“What?” Zel’s curiosity got the best of him.

Sara didn’t bother stopping her wild ride. Grinning playfully, she replied, “You’re the first man I’m not afraid of breaking.”

He laughed and snapped his hips a few times, meeting her downward strokes. Lips returning to her breasts, he wrapped his arms around her and embraced her as she gyrated atop him. She cupped the back of his neck and made the most primal noises he’d ever heard.

When she slowed her pace, he glanced up questioningly. Breathless, she kissed him. “Now I want to come with you.”

His stomach flip-flopped. “On your back.”

Sara lifted off and fell back onto the comforter, her head pointed toward the foot of the bed. Black waves fanned around her head and framed her beautiful face. He planted kisses on her knee, up along her thigh and across her belly as he moved over her. A soft sigh escaped her lips as Zel slid into place, his cock finding its home again. His fingers tangled in her hair as he thrust languidly and made love to her mouth. Her hands roamed his back, fingernails trailing up and down his skin.

When Sara’s hands gripped his backside, Zel understood the message. He deepened his thrusts and moved faster, taking her with sharp strokes. Sara rose up beneath him, meeting each pump of his hips. As they raced toward their shared release, the fervency of their mating took on an animalistic tone. Grunting and groaning, they kissed frantically and groped at one another. The bed shook with their exertions.

At the sound of her changing breaths, Zel knew she was close. He finally released the grip he’d had on his own orgasm and let the trembling sensation build at the base of his spine. Her fingers tightened on his biceps just seconds before she threw back her head and cried out. She undulated beneath him, her pussy rhythmically clasping and releasing his cock. His final thrusts were so deep and hard he nearly fucked her off the edge of the bed. With a growl, he came, spilling his cum into the latex reservoir.

When he shifted his weight, they tumbled off the bed and landed in a tangled heap on the floor. Sara let out a surprised
oof
before giggling. Smiling, he tried to kick off the comforter and top sheet wound around his ankle. Realizing it was a lost cause, he rolled onto his back and hauled Sara against him. Her infectious laughter took hold of him.

Cuddled together, they shook with amusement before settling down. Her fingers drew lazy shapes on his abs. He caressed her silky shoulder as he allowed his mind to wander. Only Sara’s growling stomach could penetrate his thoughts. Amused, he glanced down at her. She smiled apologetically and shrugged. “Room service?”

Chapter Four

Curled up in the corner of the cushy couch, Sara noshed on a rather tasty cheeseburger and sweet potato fries. Some women would have felt self-conscious chowing down in front of the man who’d very nearly fucked them senseless, but not Sara. She was hungry so she was eating. End of story.

Zel sipped his green tea. He had picked at a light meal of salad and chicken, his food choices deliberately low in calories but high in protein. “Your suite is much nicer than mine.”

“I danced at the owner’s sixtieth birthday party a few months ago. Sweet guy, really lovely wife,” she added, remembering the warm couple. “Are you staying here too?”

He nodded and set aside his teacup. “The hotel is sponsoring part of the fight. We’ve got a floor to ourselves.”

“Nifty.” She swiped a fry through ketchup and eyed Zel curiously. “You don’t strike me as the cage-fighting type.”

Bemusement colored his features. “And what does a cage fighter look like?”

She shrugged. “Generally cage fighters are the guys who don’t seem to have many other options. You’re obviously very intelligent. You could have done anything with your life, I think. You’re not very brutish so I don’t get the feeling that you fight because you love violence and blood and pain. You don’t seem to have a criminal past or be tied in with one of the syndicates so…?”

There was a far-off look in his eyes before he finally replied. “Sometimes we find ourselves doing things we never imagined for the people we love.”

“For your son?” she asked carefully.

Zel’s gaze snapped to her face. He narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Who told you?”

“My sister follows the fight leagues. She mentioned that you had lost your son recently.” Touching his hand, she said, “I’m so sorry, Zel. That must have been very difficult.”

“Thank you,” he answered quietly. With a sad smile, he said, “Matthias was such a sweet boy. He always had a smile on his face, even at the end when the pain was terrible and he could hardly breathe.”

“Was he sick?” she asked softly.

“He was born with a very serious heart defect. Hypoplastic Left Heart,” Zel named the condition. “Basically, his heart was only half developed. After he was born, they were able to keep him alive long enough to get him to a proper hospital in Greece where he had three procedures. The surgeries would help him live for a while, but he needed a heart transplant. Houston is one of the best places in the world for babies with heart problems. I knew that if I could get him to Houston he would have a fighting chance.”

“So you borrowed money from Besian?”

“Luka,” Zel corrected. “One of my family members worked for him. They put us in touch, and he offered me money if I would go to Houston and work for Besian. I couldn’t say no. I had to do whatever was necessary for my son’s life.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “I would have done the same thing.”

“Once I got to Houston, I did some enforcing and collections. They realized I could fight so I found myself in the cages. I was good, too good, so they moved me into legitimate fights. The money was better for the family, you see?”

“I do.”

Zel sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Matthias got his heart when he was nineteen months old. I was so happy. I couldn’t stop crying when he finally woke up in that CVICU room. We had five really good years—and then he started having problems breathing and he was holding onto water and swelling. It was killing his kidneys. That’s when I knew,” he finished in a small voice. “That’s when I knew my son was dying again.”

“They couldn’t get him another heart?” Sara could hardly breathe as she listened to Zel recount the heartbreaking loss of his son.

“He didn’t survive the second transplant.” Zel gulped loudly, and she could tell that he was on the verge of crying. Hating to see him in pain, she put her hand on his back and rubbed slow circles. Clearing his throat, Zel explained, “There’s always a risk when a child undergoes bypass. The heart they gave him was strong and healthy—but his little body was tired.” He exhaled roughly. “He was brain dead when they rolled him out of the operating room. It’s a five percent chance. I kept hoping he would beat the odds a second time, but it didn’t work out that way.”

Sara didn’t know what to say. She held tight to Zel’s hand as she tried to imagine what he had suffered.

“That little heart kept beating,” he continued quietly. “I had to make a choice. I could let that heart—that gift—go with Matthias, or I could give another little boy or little girl a chance at life.” He lifted his head, and there were unshed tears glimmering in his pale eyes. “I signed the papers, and I stayed with him until it was time for him to go into the operating room again. I broke down in that hospital room when he was gone—but that other father, the one whose little girl was going to live, came into the room and wrapped his arms around me. We cried together. Both of us. Grown men. Sobbing.”

Overwhelmed by his sadness and grief, Sara embraced Zel. She didn’t care about the plate that slid off her lap or the mess she was making. All she cared about was making sure this man who had just bared his soul to her felt the warmth and concern of another human being. It couldn’t have been easy for him to make himself so vulnerable to her or recount what must have been the worst day of his life.

“Zel,” she whispered while embracing him tightly. “I am so sorry that you lost your son.” It wasn’t nearly enough, but those were the only words that seemed appropriate.

He placed a gentle kiss on the side of her neck. “I shouldn’t have poured all that out on you. I’m sorry.”

Pulling back, she searched his handsome face. “Zel, please don’t apologize. I’m honored that you felt safe enough with me to tell me about your son.” Stroking his cheek, she asked, “What was he like?”

Zel smiled and cleared his throat. The sad haze in his eyes lifted as he remembered his little boy. “He was silly. He always laughing. He was never sad or grumpy. He was just the kindest, sweetest boy. He loved pirates and baseball, talked about them all the time.”

“What did he look like?” She imagined a blond boy with icy blue eyes.

“His hair was darker than mine, like his mother’s. He had blue eyes and freckles across his nose.” He must have seen the curiosity in her face when he mentioned his son’s mother because he explained, “We were never married. It was a very short relationship, and she left the hospital after Matthias was born. She couldn’t handle it. She…wasn’t well.”

Carefully, Sara asked, “Does she know that he’s gone?”

Zel shook his head. “She died three years ago. She was drinking, and she fell off a boat and drowned.”

“That’s awful.”

“She was unwell. She had struggled with drinking and drugs, and I think she was consumed by guilt for leaving Matthias. I tried to keep in contact with her and made sure that she understood that she was always welcome in his life, but she wasn’t ready for it.” He sighed. “And then it was too late.”

“You’re very generous and very…adult about her,” Sara remarked with some surprise. “Most people don’t describe their exes or baby mamas and baby daddies that way.”

Zel made a face. “I hate those names, and for better or worse, Anamarija and I were tied together through our son. I never told him that his mother had abandoned him or that she chose drugs and alcohol over him. He didn’t need to know that.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That she was sick and that she loved him more than anything in this world.” Zel shrugged. “It was the truth. She loved our son, but she was sick.” He eyed her in a way that made her uncomfortable. “And you? Why do I get the feeling that there’s a dark secret in your past?”

“Because there is,” she answered simply.

“Why do you dance?” Zel held tight to her hand, interlacing their fingers and keeping her close.

“I dance because I love to dance. I dance because I’m sexy as fuck and men want me,” she answered boldly. “I dance because it helped me build a brand and a name that I’m using to sell millions of dollars of lingerie and clothing.”

If he was impressed by that last part, he didn’t show it. “But why did you start dancing?” Turning around her earlier question, he said, “You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who dances. You’re smart. You’re ambitious. You obviously had other choices and options. So why dancing?”

“My family was hungry,” she admitted with a no-bullshit look. “My dad was killed in a construction accident when I was kid. He was in the country illegally so he didn’t have life insurance or anything. I was the oldest of 7 girls. When I was a senior in high school, Mom got hurt working in a shipping warehouse. I tried cleaning hotels and working as a waitress but it wasn’t enough money.”

“And then?”

“And then one day Besian walked into the steakhouse where I was working,” she said. “When he was done with his meal, he told me I had a pretty face, great tits and a nice big ass and that there were plenty of men who would pay good money to see me dance.”

Zel’s eyes widened a bit, almost as if he might be offended on her eighteen-year-old behalf. “And what did you say?”

“I told him he was a pig—but he left me a thousand dollar tip. Cash,” she emphasized with a wry smile. “Crisp hundred dollar bills. I got that first taste of real money. It’s hard to walk away from that so I decided to give it a try. I went to his club, and I auditioned and he put me on the main stage that first night. There was some kind of oil and gas conference in town and the men had deep pockets.” The corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. “I made almost six thousand dollars in one night. I knew right then and there that if I was really smart I could do something amazing with my talent. I could
be
somebody.”

“You don’t have to make money to be somebody, Sara,” he admonished gently. “You can be poor and be somebody that matters.”

“I’ve been poor. It wasn’t fun. I don’t ever want to worry about money again. I don’t ever want my mother or my sisters to worry about it either. I may be the one who dances and does the photoshoots and carries the brand, but this is a family business. My mother and my sisters are all involved with it—design, production, marketing, finance.”

“And your stepbrother?”

“He has
nothing
to do with my business.” Sara’s stomach pitched with the mere mention of him. “He’s usually in the pen anyway.”

“Except for tonight,” Zel insisted.

“Well I suspect he’ll be headed right back there shortly,” she said grimly. “He won’t be able to stay out of trouble for very long. If my family is really lucky, he’ll finally do something that gets him sent away forever.”