The Z.A. Chronicles – A Better Hand
Zachary Adams stirred out of his sleep and immediately looked at the digital clock sitting on the dark cherry wood nightstand. The nightstand matched the headboard of the California king bed, along with the bed bench and everything else in the bedroom. All of the furniture was of modern design and high-end stuff.
The bodyguard work was beginning to pay off.
The time hit ten o’clock when he heard, and then felt movement beside him. He realized that he now shared the bed with Marla Young, his girlfriend of two and ½ years and the woman whom he would marry as of a month ago. She lay on her stomach intertwined in the goose down comforter and exposing some of her attractive physical attributes, particularly her arched back, toned, full thighs and toned arms.
Damn, I didn’t even hear her come in, Zachary thought.
He quietly slid out of bed and sluggishly lumbered his large frame over to the French doors that exited onto the balcony. He opened the door on the right and the ocean breeze instantly permeated the bedroom. He stepped just pass the threshold onto the balcony.
The sound of the breeze passing over his ears blended with the sound of the ocean waves perfectly.
The breeze was stirring his shirt before he took it off, revealing his burly physic. If he were to hit the gym hard for a month his muscles would be easily defined to go along with his bald head and hairless brown skin. All and all, he was a good looking man.
The sounds of the breeze and ocean put him in a trance as his eyes faded closed. At the same time, it rejuvenated him as he leaned back to stretch, with fists outreached to his sides.
Marla began to frown as she stirred in her sleep. Even when frowning she was the prettiest little thing, with her butterscotch skin, button nose, full cheeks and lips. Her bottom lip was slightly fuller then the upper, both matching the rest of her skin complexion. She was the type that didn’t were make-up because it would be too much contrast, so lip gloss was her thing.
Close the fuckin’ door nigga, she thought.
“It’s cold, baby,” she mutters. Seconds passed before her light snoring continues.
Zachary’s trance was interrupted.
Then get under the damn covers, he thought.
He glared over his shoulder at Marla just in time to see her shift positions and lye on her left side. In doing so she exposed her bubbled rear end. It was a sweet ass to say the least and as usual his glare was erased. Stifling his frustration, he massaged his bald head as he stepped back inside and closed the doors.
Lights from the bike trail below illuminated the room as Zachary got back in bed and simply stared at the ceiling.
Get on my damn nerves, he thought, I’m cool on this shit, why am I still here?
Marla interrupted his thought as she shifted yet again, to her left side. Her head rested on her hands and her legs were curled and tucked close to her, causing her ass to poke out and gently mash against his arm, her butterscotch skin against his brown.
It was irresistible to him, and in a way his question was answered.
Her sex was the adhesive, and he was stuck.