Chapter 11
I slam the door behind me, fuming. The party, the stupid games— how dare Zane pull that crap tonight? My phone hits the bed with a dull thud, but it’s nowhere near satisfying enough. I want to launch it across the room, watch it shatter, anything to bleed out the anger in my bones.
I rip off my dress and let it fall to the floor, a discarded relic of my misplaced hope that tonight would be worth it. The shower’s hot water pelts down, scalding my skin, but even that doesn’t wash away the frustration burrowing deep into my soul. I scrub, trying to wash out the sight of him with her , laughing, playing at some game while I was left there, feeling like a fool.
I can’t stop thinking about how I got here. Colin. That ass. I had made plans with him, something to look forward to after that fight. But he cancels, says he’s too sleepy to hang out. Like he doesn’t even care. It’s like he’s never interested in me, and I’d wasted enough time waiting for him to pull his head out of his ass.
Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to that damn party in the first place. I just wanted to escape for a few hours, but now I’m back to square one, drowning in irritation.
After drying off, I slip into my soft cotton shorts and a faded t-shirt, one of the only things that feels like a real comfort. But even cocooned in my room, the night’s irritation coils tighter. I grab my phone, mindlessly scrolling until I see Maya’s username: @MayaMischief.
And there it is. Several posts from the party. And there it is— pictures from the Reaper party, all vibrant and full of life. I tap on one, and my heart drops. I zoom in, and there’s Zane, wearing that fucking red mask, looking every bit the arrogant asshole with some blonde draped over him, as if she has him wrapped around her finger. A pang of jealousy twists my gut, and I hate how easily he gets under my skin.
Why does he get to rewrite the rules? It’s not fair. I was the one who tried to keep it friendly. But he’s off with her, looking like he’s having the time of his life. I shouldn’t care, but I really fucking do. The anger inside me bubbles over.
This isn’t supposed to matter. He isn’t supposed to matter.
Before I know it, my fingers are flying across the screen.
Remy: Screw you, Zane!
Zane: I knew you’d be thinking about me, Remy.
The audacity of it sends me spiraling. He’s so cocky, so sure he has me wrapped around his finger. I shove my phone away, but the anger gnaws, growing hotter, consuming. I try to distract myself, but it doesn’t work. Images of him, her, that smug smile in his text— I can’t shake it.
Snatching up my phone again, I type out a message, every word dripping with frustration.
Remy: I HATE YOU, ZANE! YOU’RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME!
I stare at it, my thumb hovering over “Send.” But then it slips, and it’s gone before I can stop it.
I freeze, panic settling in. What did I just do? I start to call him, and then I end the call. The read receipt stares back, taunting. I let out a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, but my fingers are typing again.
Remy: YOU’RE JUST FORCING YOURSELF INTO MY LIFE! FORCING ME TO FEEL LIKE THIS.
Remy: And let me guess, you’re going to fuck the blonde bimbo in your car just to prove a fucking point to me.
Silence.
On read.
Remy: YOU CAN’T JUST TREAT ME LIKE THIS, ZANE.
Nothing.
Remy: I can’t believe you’re ignoring me. Isn’t this what you wanted?
Remy: God, I sound fucking crazy.
The silence is maddening. Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzes. The message is simple, infuriating.
Zane: Open your door.
My heart stutters. I spring up, peeking through the peephole, and there he is— standing in that damn red mask, a black leather jacket framing his broad shoulders, looking entirely too smug.
“What do you want?” I snap as I fling the door open, trying to hold onto my anger, trying to keep him at arm’s length.
But he steps past me, shutting the door, and suddenly, he’s right there, all-consuming. Before I can utter a protest, his hands are on me, pinning me to the wall, his body pressing into mine, claiming space I’m not ready to surrender.
“Tell me what you texted,” he growls, his voice a low, menacing whisper. “I want to hear it from you. Tell me how I make you feel, Remy.”
I swallow, my words catching. He’s too close, his scent, that dark edge in his eyes— it’s suffocating. “It doesn’t matter,” I try to say, voice wavering.
“Doesn’t matter?” He laughs, low and dark, and the sound reverberates through me, his breath skimming my neck, teasing. “You’re a terrible liar.”
His hand trails down my side, heat flaring under his touch as he cups my jaw, tilting my face up, forcing me to meet his gaze. I can see the storm in his eyes, and I know he’s not leaving until he’s gotten what he came for.
“Do you hate me now?” he taunts, his fingers grazing my cheek. His thumb brushes my lip, rough and possessive.
“Yes,” I whisper, but even I can hear the tremor, the lie wrapped in that single word.
His laughter is a challenge, igniting something darker, something reckless. “Then tell me to leave.”
I should. The words are there, on the tip of my tongue, but they won’t come out. Instead, my fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer. He smirks, victorious, and in a swift movement, he lifts his mask and crushes his mouth to mine, a brutal, demanding kiss that shatters any lingering hesitation.
His lips are hot, insistent, claiming me as his fingers slide to my waist, lifting me effortlessly. I gasp as my back hits the wall, my legs instinctively wrapping around him as he deepens the kiss. He’s everywhere, his hands, his mouth, his breath, invading every sense, every thought.
He pulls back, his gaze searing into me, peeling away my defenses. “Say it,” he demands, his fingers tangling in my hair, pulling my head back to meet his eyes. “Tell me you want this.”
My breath hitches. I should shove him away, I should do something— anything— but the need, the raw ache he’s awakened, keeps me rooted. “I want–”
He waits, a dark gleam in his eyes, his hand sliding up my thigh, possessive, unyielding.
“I want you,” I finally admit, the words slipping out before I can even process them, a confession that leaves me breathless, raw.
“Glad to fucking hear it.” His voice is a dark promise, and he grins, a predatory gleam in his gaze as he peels away my shorts, his hands moving over my bare skin, igniting a fire I can’t control.
“What are you doing?” I manage, barely able to breathe, caught between anger and the desperate pull he’s ignited.
“Claiming what’s mine,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing lower, teasing, torturing.
He leans in, pressing his lips to my ear, his voice a dark, intimate whisper. “Tell me you hate me again.”
I bite back a moan, anger mingling with desire, but I can’t stop myself from leaning into his touch, surrendering to the storm he’s brought to my door.
And as his lips claim mine again, I know there’s no going back.
It’s ridiculous, standing here talking to a guy in a mask. Makes my skin prickle, but I try to ignore it, crossing my arms, and staring him down. “Take it off, Zane.”
He doesn’t answer right away, just watches me from behind that mask like he’s trying to decide. But his eyes— they’re on me, sharp, dark, locked.
He’s close enough I can smell the faint trace of his cologne, something woodsy and clean. “Remy…”
The way he says my name, low, almost a growl— it makes me forget everything else. My pulse speeds up, and before I can even think, he’s got a hand at the back of my neck, pulling me in, pressing his mouth to mine. It’s hard and hot, and I find myself clutching at his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt bunched up in my fists.
His hands slide down, and suddenly he’s tugging at the hem of my top, pulling it up, peeling it off. I raise my arms, and before I know it, my shirt’s gone, somewhere behind me.
I’m breathless, the heat between us simmering as I lean against the wall, completely undressed and exposed to him. The room is dim, shadows dancing across the walls, but all I can see is Zane, his gaze hungry and filled with a mix of desire and something darker.
“Is your mom home?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.
“Not tonight,” I reply, a rush of nerves racing through me.
“Good.” The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. “Then let’s make the most of it.”
He steps closer, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body. My heart races, anticipation coiling tight in my stomach as he reaches for his mask. I hold my breath, begging him silently to take it off, and when he does, I can’t help but stare at him, my pulse quickening at the sight of his rugged features, the way his eyes darken with need.
“Now, this is better,” I say, my voice shaky but confident.
“Much better,” he agrees, his gaze sweeping over me like a physical caress. “You’re fucking stunning, you know that?”
I bite my lip, heat rising to my cheeks. “Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Cute.” He steps closer, his hands cupping my face, and I lean into his touch. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long fucking time.”
And just like that, he kisses me, the pressure of his lips igniting a fire in my core. My hands find their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I pull him closer. He tastes like mint and something sweet, and I can’t get enough.
“Zane,” I breathe, lost in the sensation as he kisses a path down my neck. “What are we doing?”
“Something you’re going to love,” he whispers, his voice sultry and teasing. He moves lower, kissing down my collarbone, and I gasp at the sensation of his warm mouth against my skin.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” I admit, feeling vulnerable yet so alive.
He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his expression softening. “I’ll be gentle with you. I promise.”
“Okay. I trust you,” I say, though a part of me is still nervous.
He grins, his confidence infectious. “Good. Because I’m not holding back.”
His lips find mine again, deeper this time, and I can feel his hands sliding down my body, fingers exploring every curve. When he slips a hand between my thighs, I moan into his mouth, my body arching toward him instinctively.
“God, you’re so wet,” he growls, and the way he says it sends shivers down my spine. “I have been dreaming of this. I am so fucking obsessed with you, Remy.”
“Dreaming?” I echo, feeling a rush of heat at his words.
“Yeah.” He pushes me back against the wall, his mouth trailing lower, and I gasp as his lips brush against my inner thigh. “Just relax. I’m gonna take care of you.”
He doesn’t waste any time, his mouth working its magic as he kisses his way up my thigh, and when his tongue flicks against me, I cry out, my hands flying to his hair, pulling him closer.
“Fuck, you always taste so good,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust as he dives in deeper, his mouth working me over expertly.
“Zane,” I moan, my body responding to every flick of his tongue, every gentle pull of his lips. I’m losing myself in the pleasure, and I can’t think of anything but him.
“Just breathe for me,” he says, looking up at me, and the sight of him between my thighs sends another rush of heat through me. “You’re so responsive. I love it.”
I nod, but my words get lost as he doubles down, sucking and teasing until I’m trembling on the edge. “I’m— oh my god, don’t stop!”
“Let go, baby. I’ve got you,” he urges, his voice a low growl that sends me spiraling over the edge. I cry out as the wave crashes over me, and my body quakes with pleasure, every nerve ending lit on fire.
He drinks it all in, the way I writhe and moan for him, and when I finally come down from the high, he’s there, his mouth brushing against my thighs as he pulls me back against him.
“Damn, that was hot,” he breathes, and I can see the lust in his eyes. “But we’re not done yet.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, still a little dazed.
He smirks, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a condom. The sight of it makes my stomach flip. “I want you. Now.”
“Zane…” I start, but the way he’s looking at me makes it hard to think.
“Trust me,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “Just focus on me.”
“Okay,” I breathe, trying to keep myself steady.
Zane’s gaze darkens with desire as he steps closer, our bodies just inches apart. He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Let’s move to the couch,” he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble that sends shivers down my spine.
I swallow hard but nod again, letting him guide me. The plush fabric feels soft beneath me as I sit, heart pounding, the weight of the moment sinking in. He stands before me, a striking figure against the dim light, and my breath hitches as he begins to undress. His shirt slides off, revealing the hard lines of his chest, and I can’t help but trace my eyes over every inch of him.
“You’re breathtaking,” he breathes, his gaze heated as he watches me. I feel the heat rise to my cheeks, but I can’t look away.
I nod, my pulse racing as he rolls the condom on, the slow, deliberate movement making me ache with anticipation.
Vulnerability washes over me, but it’s quickly replaced by the thrill of desire as he kneels beside the couch, positioning himself at my entrance.
“Ready?” he asks, searching my eyes for any hint of hesitation.
I hesitate just for a moment, nerves and excitement swirling within me. “I think so.”
“Just breathe,” he reminds me.
His voice is soothing as the tip of his dick touches my entrance. It feels so good as he teases me, watches me for a moment. Then he pushes slowly, adding pressure.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, my body stretching around him, and I bite my lip to suppress the sound threatening to spill from my mouth. It’s intense, the way he fills me, and I feel every inch of him.
“Yeah, just like that,” he murmurs, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches my reaction. “You’re so tight, babe. So fucking perfect.”
He thrusts slowly at first, letting me adjust, and I can’t help but let out uncontrollable moans. The stretch is overwhelming but in the best way possible.
“Zane,” I whisper, half begging for more, half trying to ground myself.
“Just breathe for me,” he says, his tone gentle yet commanding. “You’re doing so well.”
“Zane,” I gasp, my body arching against him. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“Just a bit longer,” he encourages, his thrusts relentless, pushing me closer to the edge. “You can do this. I’m right here.” His thumb slides to rub gently on my clit. I clench around him.
His words wrap around me like a lifeline, grounding me even as I float closer to the brink. It’s dizzying, the way he makes me feel— like I’m caught between ecstasy and fear, pleasure and pain.
“Please,” I whisper, not sure what I’m begging for anymore.
He leans down, kissing me as he shifts deeper, and I feel a tear slide down my cheek— not just from pain, but from the sheer intensity of the moment. He notices immediately, licking the tear away with a flick of his tongue.
“Oh, baby, you’re crying?” he murmurs, concern lacing his voice. “I got you, okay? Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” I assure him, breathless and completely lost in him. “But it’s just… a lot.”
“Good. I am a lot,” he says, thrusting deeper, and I feel my body begin to respond again, the pleasure building with each movement. “You are so fucking hot when you cry, baby.” He wipes my fresh tear. “Tell me if it gets to be too much and I’ll stop. I can always fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.”
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, gripping his shoulders as I push my hips against him. “Just keep going.”
“God, you’re a little slut, aren’t you?” he growls, and the words ignite something primal inside me. I can’t help but nod, wanting to please him, wanting to give him everything.
“Yes,” I reply breathlessly. “I am.”
“You feel so fucking good,” he says, licking more of the tears that slides down my cheek, the action shocking me out of my haze. “Focus on me, okay.”
“Okay,” I manage, even though it’s hard to keep it together.
He shifts back up, his hands sliding under my thighs, and in one smooth motion, he lifts me, pressing my back against the couch as he pulls out then sinks into me slowly. My breath hitches, and I can’t hold back the loud moan that escapes my lips as he fills me.
“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, his forehead resting against mine. “Breathe through it. I promise it won’t always be like this. I know it hurts, but your pussy feels so fucking good to me. This is the best sex I’ve ever had.”
He is hitting spots I did not even know existed. I can see blinding lights behind my eyelids. All his words are making this easier. The best sex he’s ever had? He’s making me feel some sort of way right now.
“Zane,” I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders as he thrusts deeper. It’s a stretch I’ve never felt before, and it’s overwhelming, but also so damn good.
“Just focus on me, Rem,” he whispers, kissing me softly. “You’re squeezing me so hard baby. Your pussy is so damn tight.”
He thrusts harder now, the sound of our bodies meeting echoing in the room, and I can feel the pressure building inside me again, coiling tighter and tighter.
“Just like that,” he encourages, his eyes never leaving mine. This connection I feel with him is unbearable. He’s watching me just like I’m watching him, and it’s hot as hell.
“Zane,” I whimper, lost in the sensation as he drives deeper, stretching me beyond what I thought was possible. “I’m so close.”
“Come for me slut . I know you need it,” he commands, and with one last powerful thrust, I’m sent spiraling over the edge again, the wave crashing through me as I cry out his name.
“Remy!” he growls, and I can feel him tensing as he follows me into oblivion, the world around us fading away as we lose ourselves in the moment.
I’m breathless when we finally come down, my body still quaking from the intensity of it all.
He pulls out and I wince.
Zane pulls me close, his heartbeat steady against mine, and I can’t help but smile up at him, feeling a mix of satisfaction and disbelief.
“That was… wow,” I manage, still trying to catch my breath.
“Yeah,” he replies, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “You okay?”
“More than okay,” I promise, leaning in for another kiss. This time, it’s soft and sweet, filled with everything that just happened between us.
He pulls back slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I want more of this, you know.”
“Me too,” I admit, my heart racing with the thought of what could come next.
“Good,” he says, his voice low and filled with promise. “Because…”
“Because what?”
“Because we are definitely doing that again.”