Chapter 13- Zane
I woke up to the heat of him. Not touching me—watching me.
Sam lay on his side, propped on one elbow, his eyes dragging over my face like he was trying not to miss a detail. I blinked slowly, brain catching up to the moment, to the soft gray of morning light leaking in through the curtains.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” I whispered, voice scratchy from sleep. I could still taste the weed I’d smoked. This was what... my third time embarrassing myself in front of this man? But he didn’t seem to mind.
He didn’t answer right away. Just studied me.
“I was making a list,” he finally said, voice low. “Of all the reasons I should leave this bed.”
I swallowed. “And?”
“I can’t remember a single one now that you’re awake.”
That did something stupid to my body. A low ache bloomed behind my ribs like something invasive. And I felt it again, that awful, magnetic pull. The one we’d been trying to fight since that first night. The one that had teeth and claws and no boundaries.
“We should keep this simple. It’s already so messy,” I said, even as I braced for what I knew came next—because I knew both of us were at a point where showing restraint was something neither of us wanted to keep doing. Our spouses hadn’t, and my thought was... why should we?
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing mine. “Nothing about this situation is simple.”
I should’ve rolled out of that bed, grabbed onto common sense, and remembered why this was wrong.
But then his hand slid over my hip, warm and possessive, pulling me closer until our noses brushed. His thumb found the bare skin just below my rib cage and my pussy gushed.
“We’re playing with fire,” I warned.
Sam smirked, eyes dropping to my lips. “We can burn together.”
His mouth crashed into mine, all heat and need and teeth and lips and tongue—we were in a space where our repressed hunger was finally being set loose. I kissed him back like I didn’t care about the consequences. Maybe I didn’t.
His hand found the back of my thigh, pulling it over his waist, aligning our bodies until I could feel how hard he was for me—how long he’d been holding back.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against my jaw, lips brushing skin like a question.
I should’ve. But instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered, “Don’t you dare.”
His growl was pure sin. He flipped me beneath him, mouth trailing fire down my neck, over my collarbone, down my stomach. I arched up to meet him, the heat between my thighs already unbearable.
Then his mouth was on me, sucking my pussy like he needed to taste every part of it. He tongue fucked me then used his fingers to stretch me.
I cried out, my fingernails grazing his scalp, messing up his waves. My hips lifted off the mattress, chasing the rhythm of his tongue, the way he teased and worshipped me like I was the only thing he’d ever prayed for.
He had me open—shaking. Eyes rolled back. Toes curled tight.
Every breath I took came out shaky. Every thought dissolved into nothing but him. The way he made me feel like I was breaking apart and being put back together all at once.
Then I broke. And when I came, I did so with tears on my cheeks. “Oh God,” I choked. My hips bucked, legs trembling, and I cried out his name. I needed him to hear how good he made me feel.
Seconds later, I was begging to feel him. He came back up my body slow, dragging his mouth along my skin, placing kisses like apologies between every heartbeat.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
I did.
His eyes weren’t soft. They were stormy. Wild. Like he was high.
He maneuvered a hand between us. My legs spread further when he found my clit. He stroked it a few times, long enough to make my eyes roll to the back of my head.
Then he watched me as he guided himself into me—slow, careful. He was big and thick, and I wasn’t prepared for the sting that came with being stretched by all of him. The breath rushed from my lungs. My nails dug into his shoulders.
“Sam,” I gasped his name, barely louder than a whisper.
He groaned, forehead pressing to mine. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he said. “Too long.” He said it like it had been more than four days, but I understood his sentiment.
His hips began to move—in and out—we pushed against each other. His hands moved over my waist, down my back, gripping the back of my thigh again to draw me even closer.
Every thrust took me higher. Every breath between us grew shorter. The tension built fast inside my core, pulling me closer to that edge.
“I can’t—” I choked out.
“I’ve got you,” he promised. “Let go.”
My second climax rolled through me—all heat and velvet, sharp at the edges. I held him deep, locked him there. He swallowed my gasp.
His rhythm shifted—going deeper, rougher, faster. He groaned my name, his hips rolling. I felt him begin to pull away.
My hands slid up his back, holding him tighter, legs wrapped around his waist.
“No,” I breathed, voice barely audible.
His eyes met mine, confused.
I shook my head and whispered, “Stay. Please… cum inside me.”
His breath caught. His hands froze on my hips.
“I want a baby,” I said, almost too quiet to hear, but he heard me. His body shook.
He looked down at me, face twisted in shock. His eyes burned. Then he kissed me deep and started to fuck me like he wanted one too. “I shouldn’t want this,” he said against my mouth. “But I do.”
“I want it,” I moaned, gripping him tighter, milking him.
And when he let go—deep inside me, body trembling against mine—I felt everything.
His pulse.
His cum.
His surrender.
Even as the world spun and our bodies shook, I held him there, refusing to let him go, locking my legs tighter around him.
“I hope it takes,” I whispered, just loud enough to be heard over our breathing.