Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Skylar
His hands are on the hem of my shirt, chest rising with that storm I’ve only ever seen when he’s about to fuck or fight.
He yanks it off, taking my bra with it.
My breath stutters when his mouth closes around my nipple, sucking until my spine bows. I’m already shaking, every nerve igniting.
He pulls back just enough to yank off his own shirt, and my breath snags.
His chest is a map of bruises, purple, swollen and raw. I trace one with my fingers, barely touching it, but he flinches anyway.
I press my lips to one bruise, then another, until he’s growling under his breath. I trace one near his ribs without thinking.
His hands grip my waist and he flips us onto the bed, so that I am straddling him.
“Christ,” he whispers, voice rough, eyes burning with a hunger that knocks the air out of me.
His fingers skim the slope of my breast, trailing down my side until they settle at the curve of my hip. His thumb moves in slow, lazy circles.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, voice lower now, edged with something tender that makes my chest ache.
The words melt into me.
He sees me. All of me. And still he wants more.
I reach down, grip the waistband of his jeans and tug. “I want these off. Now.”
His grin is wicked, that signature bad-boy smirk creeping across his mouth. “Can’t get enough of my cock now, huh?” he teases, eyes gleaming with heat.
My fingers work fast. I pop the button on his jeans and drag the zipper down.
“Lift,” I tell him, my hands gentle even though my body’s begging to go faster. I know he’s bruised, broken in places I can’t see.
He lifts his hips, and I ease the jeans down along with his boxers.
His cock springs free, thick and hard, brushing against his lower stomach, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of him.
He stretches out on the bed, hands folded behind his head, his body on full display, the bruises painted on his skin.
My gaze drags over him, tracing every line, every mark, until it lands on the ink over his chest. Black and bold, curling over the left side and disappearing up over his shoulder. A reminder that even in pain, something beautiful can live.
I reach out, tracing it with my fingers.
His skin reacts beneath my touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of my hand. This boy, bruised and so fucking stubborn, tough enough to survive anything, still shivers when I touch him.
He watches me, eyes soft in a way that suggests he doesn’t care how broken I am underneath.
He loves me.
That thought hits with the force of something I didn’t know I was waiting for.
I’d hoped.
God, I’d prayed in every silent second that he’d meet my eyes and carry the same weight in his chest that I’d been dragging around for weeks. That I wasn’t loving him alone in the dark.
And for the first time in forever, I don’t feel unloved. I am seen. Wanted. Held.
I undress quickly, then move forward. I trace my fingers up the underside of his cock, tracing the thick vein that pulses beneath my touch.
He watches me through half-lidded eyes.
I lean forward, tongue tracing the length of that vein, tasting the heat of him.
“Fuck,” he groans, voice hoarse. His arms fall from behind his head, fists curling tight in the sheets beside him like the urge to take control is killing him.
I do it again, slower this time.
My lips glide over the thick ridge, my tongue flicking at the tip, and the restraint coming off him vibrates through the air. His stomach tightens, every muscle coiled, shaking with the need to touch, to fuck me.
His nostrils flare. “Skylar.”
He says my name like it’s some sort of prayer and a curse at the same time.
I look up at him, our eyes locking, and I see it written all over his face. He’d burn the whole fucking world down if I asked him to.
A startled squeal slips before I can stop it as he yanks me into him, crashing his mouth to mine. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s wild... desperate. His lips devour mine like he’s starved and I’m the only thing that’s ever made sense.
I sink my teeth into his bottom lip, hard enough to make him growl, needing more.
His tongue strokes over the seam of my lips with a hunger that borders on feral, tasting, claiming, demanding.
I give in, opening for him, letting him in, and his control shatters completely.
He groans as one hand comes up to cradle the front of my throat. While his other hand grips my hip.
The kiss deepens.
Becomes something else.
My whole body aches with the intensity of it. My skin burns under his hands, every cell tuned to him.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think, can’t do anything but whimper into his mouth, high from the taste of him.
His fingers pinch my nipple, and I gasp, hips grinding down before I can stop myself. It sets something off in me. A switch, a fucking explosion. I’m desperate, my body burning with the need that makes my skin pull too tight.
I tear my mouth from his, panting, tasting him still on my lips.
“I want you to fuck me.”
His eyes darken. That cocky grin slips, replaced by something hungrier.
He drags me closer with both hands on my hips, grinding me down until the thick head of his cock slides through the wet mess between my thighs. I shudder, every nerve in my body lighting up as I feel the shape of him hot against me.
“You don’t need to fucking ask, Sky. Get off on my cock any time you want.”
The way he says it, goes straight to my core. I roll my hips, dragging my soaked cunt over his length. My thighs tremble from how fucking good it is. Every ridge, every vein, every goddamn inch of him is built to please me.
My stomach coils, heat building fast.
His cock moves on my clit, and I nearly cry out from how fucking sensitive I am. “Oh my god… Zane.”
“Christ,” he breathes out, voice rough and ragged as I glide over him again. “Your pretty pussy’s drenching my cock.”
The heat in his eyes darkens, that edge of hunger sharpening as his hand wraps around the base of his cock.
“Rub it on your clit.”
I don’t hesitate.
I curl my fingers around him, guiding him where I need him most.
His gaze drops, locked on every stroke I make.
“That’s it,” he mutters through gritted teeth, the muscle in his jaw twitching as I drag the thick head against my sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fuck.”
A low moan slips out of me before I can stop it, hips already chasing more. The drag of him against me—firm, perfect, soaked in everything I’m giving—is almost too much.
“Feels good, huh?” he says, voice hoarse.
“So good,” I whisper, breath catching.
But it’s not just the pressure or the friction that’s got me unraveling. It’s him. It’s the way he looks at me, like I’m something sacred and filthy all at once. He makes me believe I’m fucking beautiful.
Zane’s lips part, chest rising and falling as if he’s barely holding himself together. That raw need burns in his eyes, and I know he wants every piece of this.
I moan again, louder this time, as I pick up the pace. The tip of his cock drags across my clit with every stroke, slick and steady, and my thighs tremble from how close I am.
“Fuck, I can feel you throbbing on my cock,” he groans, head tipping back, jaw clenched, hands digging into my hips as if he’s trying to keep it together. “You’re so close.”
I am. Every part of me is lit up, begging for more, and his voice only fans the fire.
“I need you inside me when I come,” I breathe out, desperate and aching.
His eyes snap open. That look hits me straight in the chest.
He sits upright, pulling me closer. One hand wraps around my lower back, dragging me in with a possessive grip.
“I want my cock buried inside you too.”
Goosebumps race over my skin; my breath stalls in my throat. His words are a promise.
A threat. A fucking prayer.
Our eyes lock as he slowly enters me.
“Fuck, you take me so good,” he mutters, voice tight.
I grind against him, the pressure so intense it blurs the world.
Every roll of my hips makes him hiss through his teeth. His mouth finds mine again—messy, claiming, tongue sliding in deep and filthy—and it sets something off in me.
My moans turn frantic, fingers digging into his shoulders as I ride him harder, chasing every ounce of friction.
His thumb slips down and works my clit while his cock fills me, and I swear I could shatter from how good it is.
Each thrust has me unraveling, pleasure climbing fast and ruthless.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, head thrown back. “I’m… fuck… I’m coming—”
A deep growl tears from his throat as my pussy clenches around him, every pulse of pleasure dragging me further over the edge.
His cock jerks, and I swear I feel the tremor roll through his whole body, chest rising and falling hard against mine. His forehead presses to mine, skin damp, breaths ragged, like he just fell apart with me.
I don’t move.
I can’t.
My limbs are heavy, my thoughts slow, and all I can do is melt into him, head tipped against his, eyes fluttering closed with the tiny splutters of pleasure still hitting my body.
His arms wrap around me tighter, pulling me in until there’s nothing left but skin and breath and the steady thrum of our hearts. I catch his pulse against my ribs. The way his chest presses against mine.
His breath ghosts against my lips as he whispers my name.
His voice is quieter than before. He tilts his head, resting his forehead against mine again.
There’s restraint in him, a need to make sense of whatever this is, but instead, he threads his fingers through my hair and stares at me.
Zane Rivera.
All grit and chaos.
And right now? He’s holding me like I’m the only fucking thing keeping him steady.
My heart quickens as I take in every sharp line of his jaw, every flicker of emotion behind his eyes, riddled with a hunger that borders on pain.
His chest heaves, muscles tight, every part of him straining to stay still while he’s still buried deep inside me.
But he doesn’t move.
Not yet.
I lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, my voice nothing but a desperate breath.
“I need you to fuck me and make me yours.”