Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Sun Tower #3)

40. Raees

40

Raees

M entally, I’m undergoing anaphylactic shock.

Hyperventilation.

Heat stroke.

Heart palpitations.

Blood pressure levels exceeding time and space.

Zinneerah’s speaking words, waving her hand in front of my face.

I see her. I always see her. I’m aware of her nearness, her every breath and blink. But right now, I can’t hear anything except the thunderous sound of the overwhelmed organ inside my chest.

“—ees? Raees? Hello?”

“May I . . . kiss you?” I ask.

Her brows arch for a split second . Oh, no . What did I actually say? Was it kiss you or kill you? God help me if I accidentally said kill you. Not the most ideal thing to say given that she wants us to have sex for the very first time.

Oh, man. I’m going to have sex for the very first time.

I’m not prepared. I don’t have any protection. I don’t know the steps. I always covered my eyes during sex scenes in movies—reflexively, even now. How do I make her feel good? How do I make this comfortable for her?

Zinneerah cups my face in her hands and lowers my head, staring deeply into each one of my eyes like she’s checking to make sure I’m still in my body.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“N . . .” I make a strangled sound. “No?”

“Kiss me,” she whispers in the space between us.

My head dips forward automatically, guided by her touch.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” she says.

How does she do that? How does she look at me like she’s peeling away all the layers, seeing everything I’m too afraid to say out loud? It’s unnerving. It’s comforting. It’s her. And it’s the reason I need this to be perfect. Because she deserves perfection. She deserves more than the fumbling mess of a man I am right now.

My hands tremble as I lift them, finding her face the way she found mine.

My palms settle against her cheeks, and her skin is the finest silk. Her eyes flutter closed, and there’s a peace in her expression that undoes me. Her trust in me is infinite, and I feel every ounce of it in my bones.

And then, finally, I close the distance.

The first touch of her lips against mine is so soft it almost doesn’t feel real.

It’s just a brush, a featherlight contact that sends a shockwave down my spine. Her lips are warmer than I ever could’ve imagined, and they fit against mine so perfectly that it steals what little breath I have left.

Is this okay? I wonder. Am I doing it right? I’m too aware of every second that passes, every minuscule shift of pressure. I don’t know if I’m supposed to move, or if I’m supposed to wait for her to move, and suddenly it feels like my entire body is one big, clumsy question mark.

Just start moving, dumbass.

My lips press against hers again, a little firmer this time, and she doesn’t pull away. That’s good, right? That means it’s good.

I draw back, just barely, and catch the faintest flicker of her eyelashes as they flutter open halfway. It makes me want to kiss her again, so I do.

Again and again.

Sweet, small pecks that feel simple to me, but her lips part a little more each time, like she’s inviting me in, encouraging me to keep going.

My hand, which I don’t even remember lifting, moves without permission, settling lightly on her thigh. But before the panic can take over, she leans closer, pressing into me, her lips molding to mine like she’s saying, Yes. Keep going.

I press harder, testing the waters, and I hear it—a faint, quiet little sound from her throat, like a sigh. It’s so soft I might’ve missed it if I wasn’t this close. But I am this close , and it wrecks me.

Her lips part completely, and I follow her lead, my tongue sliding hesitantly into her mouth.

God.

God.

She meets me halfway, her tongue brushing against mine, and what’s having a functioning heart and lungs anymore? I can hear myself breathing too hard, too fast, but I don’t care. She tastes so good.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting more.

A groan builds in my chest and slips out before I can stop it, and she reacts instantly, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. It’s the most addictive thing I’ve ever heard. My hands tighten on her face, my fingers pressing into her cheeks, holding her there like she’s the only thing keeping me alive.

We kiss for what feels like forever.

Time doesn’t exist anymore.

There’s only the push and pull of her mouth on mine, sometimes soft and tender, other times hungrier, more insistent.

Her hands slide into my hair, and when her fingers tangle at the base of my neck, tugging lightly at the roots, I let out a low, shaky breath.

I don’t even realize when it happens, but suddenly she’s shifting, adjusting, moving to straddle my lap. My hands move of their own accord, sliding to her lower back, pulling her flush against me.

I feel her bathrobe slip off one shoulder, and the glow of her skin leaves me breathless.

My lips leave hers, trailing down to her jaw, then lower, finding the delicate curve of her neck. I press a kiss to the slope of her shoulder, my mouth skimming over the dip of her collarbone. When I reach the faint, faded scars on her neck, I hover over them, hesitating.

She doesn’t pull away.

Instead, she breathes out slowly, tilting her head back even further, giving me more. Giving me everything.

Softly, my lips press into her skin. Her hands slide from my hair to my shoulders, her nails scraping lightly through the fabric of my shirt. My mouth moves down to the hollow of her throat, then just below her ear, finding the fragrant scent there.

“You are so beautiful,” I murmur the truth against her lips.

Reaching for her bun, I undo it with careful fingers, watching as her hair spills loose around her shoulders.

It’s soft as silk between my fingers, and I can’t stop myself from threading my fingers into the dark, damp strands.

I remove my glasses and toss them aside, kissing her deeper, quicker, hungrier. Our tongues meet again, sliding together in a way that makes my head spin.

And then she pulls back. Just slightly. Just enough to let her hands move between us.

My breath catches when I realize what she’s doing.

Her fingers undo the knot of her robe with ease, and the silk parts like water, slipping from her shoulders and pooling around her waist.

I blank for a second.

She’s bare. Completely bare, her skin glowing in the soft light, her chest rising and falling with each slow breath.

I stare at the soft curve of her breasts, the way her skin seems to flush under my stare, the goosebumps that rise the soft hair on her arms as the cool air brushes over her.

My hands twitch at my sides. I don’t know where to touch her first. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to touch her. She’s so beautiful it doesn’t feel real.

I can feel her watching me, and when I force my eyes back to hers, I realize I’ve frozen. Completely frozen. I can tell by the quirk of her lips that she’s noticed.

She takes my hand and carefully guides it up, placing it over her left breast.

My breath shudders out of me, fingers trembling as I take in the soft, small weight of her in my hand. Her nipple is hard under my palm, and my fingers flex instinctively, moving on their own. I can feel her rapid heartbeat thudding against my hand, and it makes mine go haywire.

“Is this okay?” My voice comes out more as a rasp than anything else.

“Mm-hmm.” That little sound, the quiet approval of it, sends a rush of heat straight to my groin.

I kiss her, pouring everything into it—the awe, the need, the gnawing hunger that’s been building for years.

My other hand comes up to her jaw, holding her steady as my thumb brushes her cheek. Her lips are wet and swollen, and I can hear it now, the soft, slick sound of us kissing, and it’s driving me crazy.

My lips find her shoulder again, brushing over her skin, and I begin trailing kisses across her collarbone. I take the risk, and flick my tongue out, tasting the faint saltiness of her skin, and the breathy sound she makes in response is enough to undo me.

Then she moves.

It’s subtle at first, just a slow, unconscious shift in her hips as she settles herself more firmly in my lap.

But then she does it again.

And again.

Her body rocks against mine, her soft curves grinding against the hard length of my erection, and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from making a sound.

The friction is unbearable.

Painful.

Perfect.

It sends bolts of pleasure racing through me, and I can feel every small movement she makes—the heat of her through the thin barrier of my clothes, the way her body fits against mine like she belongs there.

My hands slide to her waist, gripping her tighter, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from losing control.

“I—” My words stick in my throat, and I have to swallow hard before I can force them out. “I don’t have any condoms.”

She stops, her hips stilling against me, and my stomach twists. But then she leans back just enough to meet my eyes, and her lips pull into a smirk. “I don’t think your mother kept the receipts for all the baby clothes she bought.”

There goes the last bit of my sanity.

I kiss her again, my hand threading into her hair and tugging her closer, like I need to fuse myself to her. I swallow the pitchy sound she makes as I guide her back, laying her down against the pillows. The bed shifts beneath us, and all I can think about is how perfectly she fits under me.

Her hands roam my back, her fingers slipping under the hem of my t-shirt and dragging against my skin.

It sends a buzz down my spine, and before I even realize it, I’m yanking the shirt off and tossing it somewhere behind me.

The second I feel her bare skin against mine, her breasts pressed to my chest, my whole body tightens.

I’m going to lose it.

I’m already losing it.

I kiss her bottom lip, then her jaw, then her throat, each one coming faster, messier, as I make my way down over each breast, kissing the soft curve of them, flicking my tongue over one hardened nipple, then the other.

Her breathing stutters, and I can feel the way her body is starting to respond to me, little by little, her chest rising and falling faster beneath my lips.

I keep going. Down her stomach, where I leave kiss after kiss, letting my hands slide along her waist, my thumbs pressing into her hips. She shifts under me, her thighs parting slightly, and my focus locks in.

I settle between her legs, my hands skimming up her thighs. Her skin feels impossibly smooth under my fingers, but there’s no time to stop and think about it because my brain is racing ahead, panicked and needier all at once.

I press my thumb to the center of her slit, the heat of her searing against my skin, and my brain whites out for a second. “How do I make you feel good here? Please. Tell me.”

Her breathing hitches, her chest rising sharply as my thumb starts to move, tracing over her with a confusing pressure. I watch her face, searching for anything—any reaction, any sign that I’m doing this right.

“Take my hand,” I murmur. “Guide my fingers.”

Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, I see the trust that makes me feel like I’m about to explode. She takes my hand, her long fingers wrapping around mine, and guides me exactly where she wants me.

When my fingers find her clit, her breath catches, and her hips twitch slightly against me.

Her gasp is like gasoline poured over a fire.

I press harder, circling the sensitive spot the way she showed me, and her head falls back against the pillows, mouth parting as her breathing quickens.

“Is it okay if I put my mouth here, darling?” I tilt my head down to press a soft kiss against the apex of her thighs

Zinneerah’s fingers thread through my hair. “Please,” she breathes out, and the sound of that single word nearly sends me over the edge.

I press my tongue flat and drag it up the length of her.

Oh, my god.

Oh, my god.

Oh, my god.

A low hum resonates through me. She tastes like the rarest ecstasy. Something sweet, salty, and heated, something I never knew I’d crave until now. God, I’d stay here forever, drunk on her, if she’d let me.

She squirms beneath me, her thighs brushing against the sides of my face, her hands tightening in my hair. Her gasps grow louder, breathier, and I swear to God, I could get off just from the sounds she’s making.

My lips close around her clit, sucking softly at first. Her fingers tighten in my hair as her hips jerk off the bed, her breath catching in little gasps that make it impossible to think about anything but her. She’s coming apart for me. For me.

Must be on the right track.

I suck harder, letting my tongue work in tandem, and her reaction almost knocks me out of my own head.

Her hands pull at my hair, her thighs trembling against my shoulders, forcing me to pull back. I glance up, confused, but she’s already pulling me back down. “No, please. Again. Faster. Put your fingers inside. Middle and ring.”

“Understood,” I mutter, sliding my hand between her legs. I push my ring and middle fingers inside her, my breath hitching from how . . . tight it feels. But she’s practically inhaling my fingers as I probe deeper and curl them upwards.

God help me. She feels incredible.

I glance up at her flushed face, her lips parted, hair sticking to her damp cheeks and collarbone. She’s a beautiful mess.

Her hands tighten in my hair, and her voice comes out wrecked. “Raees—I—”

“What?” I ask, panicking for a second as I pull my fingers out. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes fly open, wild and desperate. “Put them back in,” she scolds. “Do that again. Please.”

I blink, then smirk. “Got it.”

I slide my fingers back inside, curling them upward the way I know she loves. Her back arches, her chest rising as she lets out a sound I want to record and listen to every night.

Goddess, indeed.

I thrust my fingers deeper, hitting that spot again, and she gasps, clutching her left breast. “More. Don’t stop. More.”

My thumb moves to her clit, circling in rhythm with my hand, and she’s trembling so much I’m worried she’s about to faint from the overstimulation.

I halt, glancing up at her flushed face. “Are you all right?”

She doesn’t answer. She probably can’t hear me past the rush of her own pleasure.

I smile proudly to myself. I’m actually doing this. I’ve only ever dreamt of touching Zinneerah’s body this way. Her scent, her smile, her voice, her eye-contact—they’re all triggers of making my blood hot. I want to please her this way, see her naked and heaving because of my fingers and mouth, every single day. And now that I’ve gotten a taste of her, I don’t know how I’ll ever stop.

I slide down and put my mouth back on her, pushing her knee further apart so I can dive deeper. My tongue moves in sync with my fingers, and the way she reacts, the way she trembles, melts into the sheets, grips the back of my head, makes me feel like I can die happy right here.

She’s whispering my name like a prayer.

Over and over again.

Raees, Raees, Raees.

And when she crashes, I’m right there, drinking every bit of her as she falls apart in my hands and mouth.

Her fingers slide through my hair again, softer now, her breathing uneven but slowing.

She coughs lightly, her chest still heaving, and I lift my head to look at her, needing to see her face. “What?”

“You,” I whisper, grinning a little as I take in the flush on her cheeks, and the way her lips are curved in a blissed-out smile.

“Me?”

“You. Only you.” I lower my mouth to her skin, kissing her waist, her ribs, the underside of her breast. Every inch of her is mine to worship. “Always you, darling.”

She touches my face, her fingers brushing against the corner of my mouth. “You’ve got a very skilled mouth,” she says, smiling lazily. “You sure that was your first time?”

I laugh, pressing a quick kiss to her sternum. “First time,” I say. “But definitely not the last.”

Her fingers brush over my lips, tracing the curve of my smile. They trail down my neck, my chest, slow and sure. When her hand finally dips lower, settling near my pelvis, my breath stalls. I’m not proud of the pathetic noise I make when her fingers trace the waistband of my boxers, toying with me, but there’s no dignity left in my body anyway.

“Is it okay if I touch you with just my hand?” she asks.

I shudder. “Only if you want to.”

“Oh, I want to.” Her breath feathers against my ear, and then she goes lower, her hand sliding beneath the waistband. “But you have to stay really still for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I whisper brokenly. Fuck, this is really happening.

“Good.” She tips up her chin. “Kiss me.”

I press my lips to hers because there’s no version of me that wouldn’t. She could ask me for anything right now, and I’d give it to her without a second thought.

I groan against her mouth, something between a gasp or her name, and she pulls back just enough to look at me.

“Oh, my god,” she murmurs, her hand tightening slightly as she strokes me once, testing. “You’re so big . . .”

Worry seizes me. “Is that . . . good?”

“For the sake of my mobility? Probably not.” She starts slowly, her hand stroking me with just enough pressure to make my vision blur. Her thumb slides over the tip, pressing down. “But I can’t wait to take all of it.”

My arms tremble as I hold myself up over her, trying not to collapse from the way she’s undoing me with nothing but her touch, and her words.

“I haven’t even started, and you’re already breathing so hard,” she quips, her lips curving into a sly smile.

“My love, are you seeing me for the first time?” I chuckle raggedly. “This is how I am every time around you.”

“I see you,” she murmurs. And then her strokes get faster, her grip firmer, and my lungs are working overtime just to keep up.

I can’t think. Can’t focus. My hand tangles in her hair, needing something to hold onto.

But then I meet her eyes, and it’s game over.

Those eyes—fuck, those eyes. They’ve had me trapped since the day I saw her, and right now, they’re looking at me like I’m the only man who’s ever mattered.

A whimper slips past my lips, unbidden, and I barely manage to choke out her name. “Zinn—”

“Shh.” She cuts me off, pressing her lips to my jaw, her strokes picking up just enough to make me gasp. “No talking unless you’re going to tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“You’re . . .” My voice cracks embarrassingly, and she laughs again, the sound going straight to where she’s handling me. “You’re making me feel insane,” I manage to choke out.

“That’s right.” Her free hand cups the underside of my jaw. “You don’t have to think, Raees. Just let me take care of you.”

Her strokes become firmer, her hand twisting and sliding in a rhythm that feels so good, I’m not even sure I’m still breathing. She alternates between slow pumps and quick movements. Her other hand doesn’t stop, cupping and squeezing in ways that send jolts of pleasure through my entire body.

I groan again, my head falling onto her shoulder, hips bucking.

“Stay still,” she orders, and my entire body obeys without question.

“Yes.” I gasp. “Yes. Anything.”

“Come,” she whispers. “Do it for me.”

I’m barely holding on, but I need to be sure. “Are you sure?”

She doesn’t answer. She just tightens her grip and tugs, hard enough to pull the last shred of control out from under me. “Do it, Raees.”

And I do.

I come apart in her hand, my body shuddering as she continues stroking me, her name falling from my lips before I kiss her.

It’s overwhelming. My head spins as the realization crashes over me: this is Zinneerah. This is my wife. The woman I used to watch perform at our café, the one who turned all my miserable days into something brighter just by being in the same room. And now she’s here, touching me, kissing me, telling me to come undone for her.

As soon as I catch my breath, I shower her face with a hundred kisses, the sound of her husky laughter making me smile. “Where did you learn that sorcery, woman?”

“The girls group chat.”

“Probably shouldn’t have asked.”

She presses her palms against my chest, gently pushing me back. “Now sit up,” she says. “It’s easier this way.”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.” I sit up against the headboard, still completely paralyzed by her.

Zinneerah straddles my lap again. She holds my face in her hands and gives me three seconds to taste that infectious smile. Her hand travels down my chest and grips my cock. Standing just a few inches, she centers it at her entrance and slowly sinks down.

I groan from the sudden sensation in the scenery. She’s being stretched out widely, sighing softly, cursing quietly, nails digging into my shoulders.

My head rests back on the wooden panels. I’m hallucinating. I must be in some sick, lucid wet dream. She feels wet and hot, smells like mint and flowers, rasps out my name and kisses my skin and touches me endlessly.

“You’re so big,” she grits out, head dropping on my shoulder. Her body heaves like she’s worked manual labor in mid-July. “I swear I can feel you. Up to my stomach.”

I run my hand down her back. “Take it easy, darling.”

“Can’t look down. Is it in?”

I peer for her. “Not yet.”

“What? It feels like it’s in.”

“Just the tip, I’m afraid.”

Zinneerah exhales. “I’m so bad at this.”

“No, you’re not. Take a deep breath and slowly lower yourself on me.” I cup her face in my hands, feeling the heat of her skin. She practices her breathing, her nails marking my shoulders. “That’s it, darling. You’re doing so good.”

Zinneerah is fully seated onto my lap.

“Is it okay?” I whisper.

She nods her head. “I’ll start moving now.” She takes my hands and places them on her hips. “You can touch me anywhere.”

I nod, feeling sudden shyness creep up on my face. “You, too.”

Zinneerah bites her bottom lip, beginning to roll her hips forward. She hisses through her teeth.

“We don’t have to do it in this position,” I assure.

“Let’s try.” My stubborn wife continues rolling forward, and while it’s the seventh heaven for me, I can tell she’s in extreme pain from the penetration. “No, shush.” She closes her palm around my mouth before I can speak. “I can do it.”

I sigh into a smile.

Zinneerah seeks a comfortable pace, working her hips back and forth. She breathes through her parted lips. Once again, I stare mesmerized. I want to kiss her neck, lick her nipples, flick my tongue over her clit until she’s writhing and numb from her tenth orgasm. Is it possible for a woman to have that many orgasms? With the right partner, I’m sure. I hope I’m right.

“Hurts,” Zinneerah whispers, pushing herself to an extent where she winces. I’m not going to allow her to suffer while I’m kicking back my feet and letting her work everything out.

“Hold onto my neck,” I say, figuring out the best solution. “As tightly as you can.”

Zinneerah listens and wraps her arm around my neck, her chest pressed firmly against mine. My palms grab the mounds of her bottom and roll her forward without her having to put pressure herself. She arches her back a bit, breathing my name into the deep canal of my ear.

“Does it feel better now, darling?” I ask.

She nods.

“That’s good. I only want you to feel comfortable. No need to push yourself to please me.” I give her body a rest and grip her hips, thrusting up into her. She jerks with each push, breaths coming out choppy. “Is this good?”

“Yeah. So good.”

I cup the back of her head, my chest feeling fuzzy and airy from her soft voice. I kiss her temple. “Like you said, darling, we have the whole night.” My hands slither down to her back and lift up her hips. “I have to make sure my wife is accustomed to my size before I take her in a hundred more ways.”

Zinneerah squeezes the life out of my neck. She grips the back of my hair and cries out airy moans. I continuously work myself inside her, the movements growing quicker, faster, sharper. Sometimes I’d stop and roll her forward, or thrust deep inside her until she’s limp like a rag doll against my chest.

Somewhere along the whispers of my name, the nails carving into my skin, her lips kissing the side of my neck, she comes crashing down.

“There we go, darling. You did so well, see?” I say, undoing her arms around my neck. She’s absolutely flushed and panting and half-asleep. I kiss her open mouth, snaking my hand behind her nape. “God, I want to kiss you every millisecond of my life.”

“Me, too.”

Minutes pass of us just kissing like high school sweethearts before she whispers, “But, Raees, you didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” I say, pecking her upper lip. “Pick a comfortable position.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t know any. It’s my first time, too.”

I lick my lower lip. “Should we Google this?”

“Google sex positions?”

We stare at one another.

We break out laughing.

My lips capture her smile three times, and she hugs me tightly before looking around the bed for any ideas.

“Okay,” she says, determined about something. “I’ll get on all-fours.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

Zinneerah tilts her head. “All fours? Hands and knees?” She raises a brow. “Right? That is all-fours, isn’t it?”

“Okay.” I nod vigorously. “Okay. Yeah. I can—Yeah. Cool. All-fours. Hands and knees.”

She chuckles, kissing me suddenly. “You’re a dork.” Another kiss. “My dork.”

Well, I’m even happier now.

I lay her down and slowly pull myself out, peering at the white, stickiness between her legs. She cuts my admiration short by turning around on all-fours and giving me a shy smile over her shoulder. Nothing about her position screams shy, but she’s got me blushing like a schoolboy.

I lean over her and sweep her damp hair aside, kissing below her.

Carefully, but honestly, clumsily, I slip back inside her. “Does this feel good?” I whisper.

A soft moan. “So good.”

With a kiss to her shoulder, I straighten my spine and hold onto her hips.

I run my hand down her vertebrate and caress her back. She’s so soft and bronze-skinned and kissable everywhere. I want her to sleep naked with me every night so I can admire every line on her body. There’re even faint pale-pinkish circular marks on different spots on her back. As I peer closer, I realize they look awful lot like cigarette bud burns.

My jaw clenches. That fucking bastard is lucky he’s rotting in prison or else I would’ve finished an entire clip through his brain.

Ignoring the pulsation of my anger, I curl my arm around her waist and bring her up so her scars are glued to my chest. Turning her face to the side, I kiss her lips, holding her gently by her jaw. Her tongue caresses mine, sucking and pulling, and tearing me apart with her taste.

My ministrations grow in pace with the color of her knuckles holding my forearm. I caress her breasts, squeezing them and pulling her nipples, sliding down to her clit again. Her head falls back onto my shoulders, black eyes peering up from her lashes.

I kiss the side of her neck and return her to her position on her hands and knees. I pull out of her, quickly turning her onto her back. “Zinneerah?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve ruined me.”

I drive myself back inside her.

Her back arches off the mattress. I take that opportunity to place a pillow under her for comfort. My palms plant on either side of her head, careful to avoid her open hair, and my hips thrust into her without breaking the fast tempo.

The bed creaks beneath us from the impact, sounds of skin slapping against skin loud enough to fill the room, she’s sighing and gasping for air, holding onto my biceps.

“Do you want me to stop, my love?” I ask softly, noticing the tears welling in her eyes.

“No, no, please .”

I cup her cheek and kiss her tenderly. “That’s my girl. You’re doing such a great job for me. Just a little more, okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” She bites her bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut as I take it home.

I feel myself getting closer to the finish line. “Hold me.”

She locks her arms underneath mine, nails running down my back as I fuck myself further into her.

“Look at me, please.” I plank with one arm and use my free hand to cup her cheek, wiping the tears that escape them. “I love you, Zinneerah. I fall in love with you every day. You . . . You’re the love of my life.”

She nods, lips wavering. “You’re the love of my life, Raees.” She lifts her head and kisses me.

That’s all it takes for me to crumble down with her.