Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Pressed to the kitchen counter, Zuri refused to bend. “You’re not going to bite me,” she said, leaving no room for debate.
Elena stared back at her, fangs bared and eyes bright. She was aching to release her shadowy wings. To bite her. To make her beg for her. Zuri knew it, and she would die before giving it to her.
They were at the most exquisite impasse, and this time, Elena was going to be the one to break. She would not give her a fucking inch.
Staring down a predator she knew could eviscerate her, Zuri waited for Elena to back down without a shred of concern. But then Marisol’s soft lips were grazing Zuri’s collarbone and her resolve wavered. Anger drained from her as if Marisol was pulling it out of her like venom.
Damn it, Bambi. Zuri circled her arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
Her soft lips on her skin and Elena’s obnoxiously hot grip on her hair was magic. She shouldn’t want this so much. Wanting was dangerous. Wanting made it impossible to see reason. To choose herself over them.
Teeth scraped her throat, Marisol’s sigh was warm against her skin, and Zuri closed her eyes to revel in the sensation.
Fuck .
Roaming down Marisol’s back, Zuri’s hand slipped into the waistband of the borrowed leggings and palmed her ass. Discovering she wasn’t wearing any underwear shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it jolted Zuri with adrenaline just the same.
“Are you going to miss me?” Marisol whispered against the shell of her ear, all soft and worried and sweet. For fuck’s sake, why did she have to be so sweet?
If Zuri didn’t know better, she’d think that Elena had conjured this woman up in a lab. She was too perfect. But she knew Elena too well. She’d be gloating if she’d orchestrated this on purpose.
Zuri nearly confessed that she would miss her. That she wasn’t sure if she wanted to say goodbye. That she wasn’t sure of fucking anything. But she couldn’t make herself speak.
Instead, she tucked her finger under Marisol’s chin and brought her to her lips. She kissed the words she didn’t want to say. Showed Marisol the turmoil dancing in her chest with the sweep of her tongue and the pull of her teeth.
“Mine,” Elena growled, sending a rush of searing desire pulling hard between Zuri’s thighs. She hated what Elena could still do to her. What she’d always be able to do with her aggravating caveman bullshit.
Marisol cursed against Zuri’s kiss, forcing her eyes open. Elena’s hand had slipped into the front of Marisol’s leggings. The sight of Elena moving under the dark fabric made Zuri forget why she’d resisted. Made her want in the most dangerous and reckless way.
With her free hand, Zuri gripped Marisol’s face and pulled her back to her mouth. She kissed her hard. Harder than she had before, fingers digging into her soft skin hard enough to bruise.
Moaning in response, Marisol opened for her and begged her to go harder. To go deeper. Jesus .
Tongue obscenely deep in Marisol’s mouth, she moaned. The sound vibrated in Zuri’s core and spurred her on. When she let go of Marisol’s face to slip in under the bottom of her shirt, Marisol whimpered at the loss.
Breaking their kiss because Zuri wasn’t sure she’d survive another moment of Marisol’s eager mouth, she stopped herself from panting. Looking at her was no better. Freckled skin already flushed, and bottom lip between her own teeth. She was gorgeous.
Zuri should have realized that she was in trouble long before then, but watching Elena touch Marisol—watching her bring Marisol right to the edge before pulling back—it became well and truly obvious that she was oh so very fucked.
It didn’t matter, she rationalized. They only had a handful of hours before sunset. Before they were leaving. Before she was going back to where she was in complete control. Before she was away from them and neither one of them was her problem. It was what she wanted, she reminded the pang in her stomach. What she needed. They were scattering back to normal and none of this mattered.
Pulling Marisol’s shirt over her head, Zuri exposed her athletic form. But more than lean muscle, it was how her flush spread over every inch of her skin that Zuri couldn’t get enough of.
“Touch me,” Marisol begged without opening her eyes. “Make it hurt,” she panted, sending a devastating shockwave through Zuri’s unprepared body. “I want to feel you.”
Elena cursed a fraction of a second before she turned Marisol around, before she bent Marisol over the counter and pulled the leggings half way down her thighs. But Zuri didn’t let Elena slip inside. Not alone.
Interlacing their fingers while Marisol waited for them, open and glistening with arousal, Zuri kissed Elena with all the frustration coursing through her. Kissed her hard to remind her she was not hers. That she’d never be hers again.
With a groan, Elena bit down on her lip, drawing blood that she collected with the tip of her tongue. It was a microdose of her usual bite, but it was enough to flood Zuri’s system and cloud her judgment.
“I hate you,” Zuri moaned into their kiss.
“You’ll never stop loving me,” Elena promised. “You will always be mine.”
If only those two weren’t mutually exclusive .
Refusing, Zuri reached for Marisol. Pulling her up by tugging her hair with a gentle touch, Zuri turned Marisol’s face toward her to kiss her. She yielded, lips parting and tongue finding Zuri’s with a restraint that didn’t match her body language. God, she was maddening.
Letting go of Elena’s hand while Elena kissed a line up Marisol’s exposed back, Zuri teased her entrance with the tip of one finger. Finding Marisol nearly dripping wet, Zuri bit back a moan.
She hadn’t really planned on making it hurt, and she would not let Elena do it either. Marisol had kept up with them every second they were together, but she wasn’t sure they had the same definitions of hurt . Elena sure as hell didn’t.
But then Elena’s hand was back in Zuri’s hair and she was biting where her lip had already stopped bleeding, making sure she’d leave a bruise when she bit her again. And fuck, she wanted her to bite. Not a nip, but the deep puncture wounds that would take weeks to heal on her sensitive inner thigh. Her body was a stupid traitor who hadn’t learned a single fucking thing in five long years, but she couldn’t manage to care.
Kissing Elena back hard, biting her tongue, cursing against her lips, Zuri reached for Elena’s hand again. Guiding her middle finger over Marisol’s slick entrance, Zuri took control and made sure Elena eased her finger in slowly.
Arching her back, Marisol moaned her approval. Tossing her head back, she thrust her hips backward, swallowing Elena’s finger to the knuckle. From behind, Zuri indulged in the tactile pleasure of feeling Elena moving slowly inside Marisol before sliding lower and finding her clit with her fingertips.
Marisol dropped her head again, elbows on the counter and back flexing with every agonizing swing of her hips. Each time Zuri circled her clit, she moaned. The sound was addictive, and all Zuri wanted was more.
“Don’t stop.” Marisol’s voice trembled when she whispered. “God, please. I’m so close.”
“I thought you wanted to feel me,” Zuri teased. “Should it be over so soon?”
She ran her fingers back to where Elena was moving deep and slow, and slipped her middle finger in beneath hers.
Tensing around them, Marisol sucked in a breath. “Shit,” she squeaked, legs trembling and a thin sheen of sweat making her perfect body even more achingly beautiful.
With a glance, Zuri told Elena to wait. To give her a second to adjust. Elena looked back at her with pitch black eyes and made a face that said, do you think I’m an asshole ?
Zuri responded with a silent and resolute: obviously .
The moment Marisol started moving again, urging both of their fingers in, Elena kissed the breath out of Zuri’s lungs. It was unfairly soft, mirroring the same gentle pressure they were using while making shallow movements inside Marisol. It was unfair. Cheating. A violation of wartime treaties. Fuck, it was good. And then Zuri curled both of their fingers, pushing Marisol closer to the edge they might just let her cross.
“Deeper,” Marisol panted, voice hoarse. “Please.”
She was so wet that there was no resistance when they pushed completely inside, fingers moving together like they were one. They found an easy and agonizing rhythm.
“Faster,” Marisol begged, like she was close. “Harder.”
Without breaking Elena’s kiss or their tempo, Zuri reached around the front of Marisol’s body and found her clit with her free hand.
It was the end.
Slamming back into them so hard that Zuri would have pulled away if Elena hadn’t held her steady, Marisol devolved into a tangle of moans. Arm around her waist, Elena kept her from collapsing while she rushed to an orgasm that made Zuri’s entire body catch fire.
Still inside her, they kissed her back, her arms, her neck, and held her close while she caught her breath. When she was ready, Zuri slowly slid out first, then Elena. Keeping her between them, they held Marisol until her weak legs could be trusted. Kissed her softly until her flush eased from bright red to pale pink.
Damn it . Zuri didn’t want to let her go. Either of them. But she needed space to breathe. To make a decision based on something other than impulse and reflex for the first time in weeks.