CHAPTER 25
MIA
Lara is surprisingly sweet. And unlike my relationship with her brother, we actually get along—really well, in fact.
To be honest, that was a bit of a shock. I wasn’t even sure she was real at first.
Livia: How’s my girl today?
Mia: Well, I can’t believe you actually sent me bath bombs.
Livia: I refuse to believe you’ve gone your whole life without them. Lucky for you, I’m in London with Andi, or we’d be having a girls' night out right now.
Mia: Audrey’s still here, but she disappeared for a few days. I haven’t heard from her.
Audrey and I haven’t seen each other in person since I left Los Angeles, but she always texts to check in.
Livia: She’s probably off fucking someone—don’t take it personally.
Mia: Good for her, I guess.
Livia: Oh, and I threw in some lingerie with the kit I sent you.
Mia: …
Mia: So that’s what Lara pulled out of the box all excited.
Livia: HAHAHA, yep.
Mia: She just stuffed it in a drawer and said she was going to pretend she never saw it.
Livia: Smart one.
Mia: You know me too well, Liv.
Livia: Exactly. Which is why I know you probably shoved the box in a corner and pretended it didn’t exist.
Mia: …Maybe.
Livia: Mia.
Mia: What?
Livia: Use the things I send you.
Mia: I used the bath bombs!
Livia: As you should.
Mia: You’re lucky Figaro’s here with me, and I’m in a good mood.
Livia: I WANT A PICTURE OF FIGARO.
Mia: He’s literally sleeping on my chest right now.
Livia: MIAAAAA.
Mia: Okay, okay, I’ll send one.
I carefully angled my phone to take a decent picture of the little tuxedo cat curled up on my chest.
Figaro was purring softly, tiny and completely content, as if my heartbeat was the only pillow he needed.
I smiled a little and sent the photo to Livia, who immediately responded with a string of vowels and exaggerated emojis.
As much as I laughed at her reaction, my mind was elsewhere.
There was lingerie in the box. Expensive, delicate, absurdly beautiful pieces. Coming from Livia, it felt so natural, like it was obvious I’d need something like that.
But… for what? What exactly was I supposed to do with it?
Zane and I had been married for a year now.
A whole year of sharing a mattress, breathing the same air in the dark, bumping into each other in the mornings when one of us got out of bed first.
I’d gotten used to his warmth next to mine, to the way he always kept just enough distance, as if he was acutely aware of some invisible boundary neither of us ever crossed.
The strangest part? I’d never really thought about it until now.
A year ago, we had one conversation about sex and decided it wasn’t something that mattered. Then his mother’s accident happened, and we started traveling constantly.
He never changes in front of me. And when he touches me of his own free will, my body welcomes it—because it happens so rarely. There are barriers between us. I know that all too well.
And I don’t expect them to disappear overnight.
But I see the desire he tries to hide.
I feel the morning erections when he wakes up holding me.
I notice how his breathing turns uneven, how his hands linger on my waist just a little too long.
I could feel all of this. And it was a different feeling—one I never thought I’d fully explore.
Figaro stretched and nuzzled into the crook of my neck, distracting me from my thoughts. I laughed softly, holding the little, warm body of the cat.
When he finally fell asleep, I got up and went to take a bath.
The steam from the shower still lingered in the air as I stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying my hair.
The dark blue lingerie hugged my body in a way that made me feel… different.
It wasn’t just the softness of the fabric against my skin or the way it contrasted with the patches of my piebaldism. It was the feeling of wearing something that said something.
Something I wasn’t quite sure how to name yet.
I heard the door open and smiled before I even turned around.
“You took a while,” I commented, throwing the towel over my shoulder as I walked toward the bedroom.
My voice was light, teasing. But something in the air shifted the moment I looked at Zane.
He stood at the entrance of the room, frozen as if he had forgotten how to move. His dark eyes locked onto me, and for an instant, I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.
“Is everything okay?” I frowned.
“Yes,” he answered—too fast. But then I saw it. The slow movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. The tension in his shoulders, in his jaw. The heat radiating from his body, filling the space between us.
I followed his gaze, only then registering my own clothing.
Ah.
A smile curled at my lips before I could stop it. I took a step forward, crossing my arms over my stomach as if I had only just noticed what I was wearing.
“My lingerie is making you nervous?”
Zane remained silent. His eyes traced over me in a way that sent warm shivers down my spine. Then, abruptly, he turned away, running a hand through his hair as if trying to regain control.
“No,” he replied, but his voice was rougher than usual.
“Oh, I see.” I tilted my head, amused. “So you always run out of words when you get home?”
He closed his eyes for a second, breathing deeply.
“Mia.” The way he said my name—it was almost like a warning. Like he was teetering on the edge of something dangerous.
And, strangely, I liked it.
“Yes?”
“You can’t just…” He opened his eyes, staring at me as if trying to make me understand something very important. “You’re playing with fire, wife.”
The way he called me wife sent a powerful, delicious rush through my body, but at the same time, it left a hollow ache in my chest.
I wanted. I admitted.
I wanted him.
“Did something happen?”
His gaze slid back to me, and this time, he didn’t look away. I felt it—the weight of his attention sweeping over every detail. From the thin strap slipping off my shoulder to the lace clinging to my skin.
My heart pounded, but I stayed still, watching.
“You’ve seen me in lingerie before,” I pointed out.
“Not like this.”
The answer came without hesitation. Quick. As if it had slipped out before he could stop it.
I bit my lip, the smile still teasing the corners of my mouth.
“You’re not even going to say I look pretty?”
His jaw tightened.
“You already know the answer.”
Heat crept up my neck.
"But it doesn’t hurt to know the truth.”
“Do you want the truth?”
“Yes.”
"You look breathtaking... but then again, you're always stunning. What drives me to the edge right now is the fact that all I can think about is how badly I want to shove my cock in your pink mouth and fuck it hard while you're wearing that fucking lingerie, and then pour every drop of my lost control down your throat. How does that truth sound to you?"
I stare at him stunned for a moment, his words hitting right in the middle of my legs.
My sweet Zane, I think I just broke him.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of his breathing. Our silence.
“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you coming in?” My voice was softer now, lower than I’d intended.
Zane didn’t move. But his hands curled into fists at his sides, as if he were restraining himself.
“Mia.” He said my name like a warning again, but this time, it made me want to push further.
To see just how far I could take this.
I took another step, closing the space between us. Zane still didn’t move, but I could feel the tension rolling off him, thick, hot, charged with something I didn’t have a name for yet.
Maybe I should provoke him more.
Maybe that’s exactly what he was waiting for.
“Fuck,” he muttered before grabbing me in one swift motion.
I gasped, instinctively wrapping my legs around his waist, and the way I did it so naturally—so effortlessly—was a surprise even to me. We had spent a year sleeping in the same bed, being together. But our touch had never felt this urgent.
“What’s happening to us, Zane?” I whispered against his mouth.
His dark eyes locked onto mine, his grip tightening.
“I need you, Mia,” he murmured. The way he said it… It was so raw, so unfiltered, it made every cell in my body vibrate.
“You have me. You always have.”
“Do I?” His voice was low, rough. Almost like he was possessed by something deeper than desire. “Then if I slip your lingerie to the side, am I going to find you wet for me?”
“Zane.”
“Fuck, Mia,” he growled, pressing me tighter against him. I sighed, my forehead resting against his, our mouths mere inches apart. "I'm starting to realize that I hate sharing you."
And then he kissed me.
But this kiss—it was different from any other we had shared before.
He kissed me like he wanted to devour me, like he could pull me into him and make us one.
Before I knew it, I was grinding against him, desperate, my body chasing the heat of his touch.
Like a year without this had been his own personal hell—and he was finally unleashing it all on me.
“You wanted to touch me like this?” I asked, surprised.
His lips curled slightly.
“Before you, intimacy was a curse. An evil I had to endure. But after you? After feeling your touch? It’s like I finally could be satisfied.” He cupped my face, thumb brushing over my lips. “I’m hungry for your touch, for your smile, for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes, wife. For you.” His voice was so certain, so absolute, it made my stomach twist into knots. “Do you think I took you away from the States for no reason? I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. From now on, wherever you go, I go.”
“You didn’t walk away from me because I killed your mother.”
“No. I don’t care about my mother.”
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore, because…”
“I want you, Mia. As my wife. As my everything.”
Oh, God. His words did things to me.
“I want you too,” I breathed. “I want all of you.”
And I meant it. I didn’t even know exactly what I was asking for. I just knew that if there was anything left of him that I could claim, I wanted it.
“Then that means I can kiss you here, baby,” he whispered, trailing kisses down my neck, lower, lower—until I could barely breathe.
It wasn’t just passion. It was need.
And I realized then—Zane craved me.
And I had never wanted anything more.
He stirs feelings in me I never thought possible.
The way he holds me—like a tortured soul, like someone who has finally come home or discovered something he’s been desperately seeking.
Zane’s hunger for my touch is palpable, and this realization makes my heart race, as if it's about to leap out of my chest.
I feel his fingers graze my nipple, slipping over the fabric of my bra, each touch lingering as if he's savoring every second, relishing the sensation.
“You’re responsive to me. You’re mine.”
“You’re mine,” I say, my hands tightening around his neck. I pause, watching him, searching for any sign of hesitation, but when he smiles, I don’t hesitate.
I squeeze harder, pulling him closer, my voice low and commanding. “You’ve been my little angel since the moment we met. And you have no choice but to belong to me.”
I feel his cock twitch even more at my words, and then I pull his hair, bringing him to me for another kiss.
“Now ask me nicely, and I will give you what you want, my little angel.”
“What do I want?”
“You want me to shove my mouth down your cock and milk you dry, swallow every fucking drop of cum, and make it rough while you take it like my good boy,” I rasp, my breath coming out in shaky, controlled bursts, and he stares at me, his eyes clouded with a haze of shock and desire.
“P-please.”
“You look so good with my hands around your neck. I can break you.”
I feel his pulse beneath my fingers, the way he submits, his breath catching in his throat. His body quivers, eager for more. I tighten my grip around his neck, savoring the power I have over him. The way he breathes and murmurs that he’ll do anything—I can feel how much he enjoys this. How much he needs it. And it thrills me, knowing I’ve got him exactly where I want him.
“You are such an angelic little thing, and you fucking belong to me,” I whisper, watching him fall deeper into it.
“To you, huh?”
“Yes, and you will do what I say.”
“I will. Everything you want.”
“First, you’ll slip my lingerie to the side and feel how drenched my pussy is for you. My body will make it clear just how much I want you. You’ll find me trembling, soaked, every inch of me begging for you. And when you do, you’ll stop with this nonsense about not being enough.”
Maybe I’m darker than most. Maybe I’m not the type to offer Zane the sweet, submissive intimacy others might. But he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it’s almost as if he craves it.
I like the control he gives me. It’s everything that’s been taken from me my entire life.
His thick hands grip my waist tightly, pulling me toward him. His hands slide over the hem of my lingerie before touching my slit, and I gasp, throwing my head back.
"Good boy, that's my little angel," I say as his hands explore my body and his eyes shine with desire at my words.
I place my hands on his chest, removing his shirt, and bring my mouth to his neck, muffling the sounds escaping me. Sounds I never thought I was capable of making so naturally.
"Mine," I whisper as I mark him, and he smiles.
"Yours."
His words ignite something deep inside me, and the tension builds, unbearably slow, winding tighter with each second. My body surrenders completely, giving in to the wild, intoxicating release that pulses through me, leaving me breathless and trembling, drowning in the bliss of it all.
I can barely snap out of the trance when Zane’s phone rings, breaking the moment. He lets out a frustrated sound before answering it, still holding me in his lap.
I trail soft kisses along his neck, my lips burning with the urge to explore every inch of his skin. But something holds me back, and I can’t help but hesitate.
Or maybe... maybe I should just go for it.
Summoning my courage, I slide my mouth down to his chest, feeling him inhale sharply, a breath caught between his lips. He mutters something into the phone, his voice low and distracted, “We’ll deal with this later,” before his attention shifts back to me completely.
"I want to touch you," I whisper against his mouth, my lips barely grazing his.
Zane’s breath hitches, and for a second, he doesn’t move. I feel the heat of his skin, the tension in the space between us, crackling like something alive.
His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting himself.
“You already are,” he murmurs, voice low, almost strained.
I smile against him, fingers trailing over the sharp lines of his jaw, down the column of his throat. He swallows hard, and I feel it beneath my touch.
“Not enough,” I confess, my voice barely a whisper as I press closer, my body molding to his. “Never enough. You did exactly what I asked... you deserve your reward.” My words linger, dripping with hunger, as I let the tension between us build, knowing exactly how badly he craves it.
He exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against mine like he’s trying to steady himself. I know him. I know the war raging inside of him.
“Mia…” My name is a warning, rough and frayed, but there’s no real fight in it.
I tilt my head, brushing my nose against his. “Zane.”
I know how to suck cock; I’ve just never felt pleasure doing it.
Until Zane.
The thought of putting my mouth on him is so tempting it makes the sensations in my chest spill over, too overwhelming to contain.
I need him—every part of him—like I need to breathe.
Damn, he has a hot body. That’s all I can think as my gaze trails over the sharp dips and curves of his muscles, the way his tattoos stretch and move with every slow breath he takes. Some of those tattoos were done by me, and the realization sends a giddy thrill through my chest, warm and intoxicating. It’s proof that I’ve left a mark on him—something permanent, something no one else can erase.
I want to leave more.
The thought grips me with a sudden urgency, a possessiveness so intense it almost makes me dizzy. It’s not just about touching him—it’s about knowing him in a way no one else ever will.
I want to memorize the heat of his skin, the quiet shivers he tries to suppress, the exact way he unravels under my hands.
I grin, letting my fingers trace the inked lines on his stomach before pressing my lips to them. Every inch of him is art, and tonight, I’m the only one who gets to admire him up close.
I start kissing his chest again, slow and deliberate this time, lingering in places just to feel the way his breath hitches. My lips explore the smooth expanse of his torso, my fingers mapping out every inch like I’m memorizing him.
Zane leans back, his head tipping slightly as his eyes flutter shut, a shaky breath slipping from his lips.
For a moment, he fights it—the need to hold on, to stay in control—but then I feel it. The way his body gives in, muscles tensing before melting under my touch.
He’s surrendering, letting me pull him under, and the realization sends a delicious thrill through me.
My hands slide down his body, fingers hooking into the waistband of his pants and boxers. I tug them down, watching as he lifts his hips to help me. He gasps, his body trembling with anticipation as I strip him bare.
Then, I see him.
Zane’s cock is thick, hard, and already glistening with pre-cum. I blink, taking in the sight—without even knowing it, I married a man with a big, fat cock. And I’m starting to understand the appeal everyone raved about on those forums.
The head of his cock is a soft pink, twitching slightly in rhythm with his heartbeat. I watch as a fresh bead of pre-cum gathers at the tip, my tongue darting out to wet my lips.
Zane watches me, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
"You have a nice dick," I say, my voice full of appreciation.
He lets out a breathless laugh. "Thanks."
"You’re welcome." I grin, but before he can respond, I start kissing my way down his thighs, slow and teasing, knowing it’ll drive him crazy.
His body tastes just as good as it looks, and I take my time, savoring the heat of his skin.
When my lips finally reach his balls, I press soft kisses against them before taking one into my mouth, sucking gently. Zane groans, his fingers gripping the sheets beside him. I give the same attention to the other, delighting in the incoherent sounds he makes.
I pull away for a moment, looking up at him. His face is flushed, his head shaking slightly as he struggles to hold himself together.
I drag my tongue along the length of his cock, feeling the way it twitches against my touch. When I reach the tip, I swipe my thumb over it, spreading his pre-cum, watching as it glistens under the light.
Zane shudders, his eyes dark with lust.
As I lower my mouth over him, his entire body jerks. "Oh my God... Mia..." His voice is breathless, full of something raw and desperate.
I hum around him, enjoying the way he reacts to every flick of my tongue, every movement of my lips. His moans become more broken, his thighs trembling beneath my hands.
"Mia... I’m close," he says, voice wrecked.
I smile against him, sucking harder.
Zane’s mouth falls open, a deep groan tearing from his throat as his body tenses. His cock throbs against my tongue, and then I feel the hot rush of his release hit the back of my throat. I swallow eagerly, milking every last drop from him, not stopping until I’m sure he’s completely spent.
Even then, I stay there for a moment, my lips still wrapped around him, feeling the last weak pulses of his pleasure.
I like doing this.
With Zane, it’s different.
I lie in bed next to Zane , and he pulls me into his chest, stroking my spine. It’s a kind of intimacy—different from what we built today.
I didn’t know I could have this with someone, but if I did, of course, it would be with Zane.
"I thought you didn’t want me that way."
"Trust me, I always have. I want you this way, in every way."
"Okay," I say with a smile, then continue, "Are you okay with living in Texas?" I ask, watching as Zane stares at the cabin room like it's something unfamiliar.
"I am. It’s just… weird being back home." He turns to me with a smile.
I look at him, my eyes locking onto the chain necklace with a padlock he’s wearing— my necklace. The one with my number on it. A piece of who I was, who I’ve always been. But seeing it on him... it’s different. It doesn’t feel like a reminder of a label, of something I’ve carried my whole life.
Instead, it feels like it’s his now, like he’s taken something that was once so strictly mine and reframed it, made it his own.
A sense of ownership stirs in me, but not the kind I’ve always feared. It’s something deeper, more intimate, and... belonging in a way I’ve never felt before.
"My necklace," I murmur, the words barely escaping me, and I watch as something shifts in him—his jaw tightens, his eyes softening.
"I’ll give it back to you," he says, and I shake my head before I even think about it.
"You should keep it," I whisper. "It looks better on you."
"Are you sure?"
I look at the number etched into the center, my finger tracing it lightly. "Do you see this number here?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "It’s been who I am, who I’ve been known as... for as long as I can remember. Worn around my neck like it was the only thing that defined me. But when I see it on you, it’s different. It feels like you ’re mine now. And... I like the sound of that."
But not just that—I belong to him in a way that terrifies me.
Of all the things I’ve ever conjured, this is the most important part of my story.
Zane’s smile flickers, a mix of surprise and something I can’t quite place.
He sighs, his gaze shifting down as if he doesn’t know how to respond. I wait, allowing him the space to process, feeling every second stretch between us, laden with unspoken words and emotions that neither of us are ready to name just yet.
Zane looks at me and exhales. "The person I was on the phone with was a member of the The Society of Crow. Just like me."
I freeze at his words but remain silent.
"I can’t hide anything from you, Mia," Zane continues, and I listen. "TSOC is a very old entity. I had no intention of joining, but when my father died… I wanted this—for him. I never wanted to be fully involved because my life is outside of it. But my fate is still tied to theirs, and it will be until the end."
My heart tightens. Zane and I have come a long way in building trust, and yet… I still haven’t told him about my father.
In the year we spent outside the United States, I learned so much and healed parts of myself I hadn’t even realized were broken. I don’t want that taken from me.
"Before you tell me more about the Society of Crow, I need to tell you something," I begin seriously.
Zane stiffens, turning to face me. "What?"
"I’m not just a fugitive from the Cartel. I’m more than that."
"I know," he says with a weak smile.
"You do?"
"Not the whole story, but whatever you're going to tell me, we’ll figure it out. Okay?"
I lower my gaze. "I’ve killed members of the Society of Crow before."
"What?"
"I did it because, all my life, I was taught that they were evil. That they wanted to cause harm. That’s what my father trained me for—since I was ten years old. Since he lost my brother, One. My father never got over it. He said a Ross killed him, and that one day, we would avenge his death."
"Mia…" Zane’s voice drops. "Please tell me you’re not a fucking spy."
"I’m not a fucking spy," I echo his words.
"Mia, this isn’t a joke."
"I’m not joking, okay?" I snap. He keeps staring at me. "Outside the States, together, we were living in our little bubble. But here… things are more complicated. My father doesn’t take kindly to losing what he considers his possessions. And that’s all I ever was to him—a possession."
"Mia…"
"When you found me—"
"When I ran you over," he corrects.
"Whatever. When you ran me over, I was running away from him. I don’t remember much, but I thought I had escaped because of an episode. But someone helped me. Someone I thought was just a fragment of my memory."
"Mia, you’re making no sense."
"My sister, Zane. My sister helped me escape my father. And Nico Riviera doesn’t like losing his toys. That’s all I am to him. That’s the truth. I’m not a spy, so don’t worry. He never saw me as competent enough for that. He always said I was useless to his business."
"Mia… you’re safe. I’ll protect you. TSOC is stronger than the Cartel."
"How safe will I be when Charlie finds out I was the one who tortured their soldiers, huh?"
"I’m not going to let anyone touch you. Even if I have to blow them all up."
My eyes darken. "I’m still going to kill Ross for taking my brother from me. Are you still going to stay with me after that? We come from different worlds."
There it is. I’ve finally said it out loud. Ever since Zane’s mom admitted the truth about him being part of that secret society... I’ve buried the feeling deep inside me, pushing it down until it felt like a ghost. But it’s still there, festering, clawing at the edges of my mind.
Every life I’ve taken, every man I’ve killed... it was because they hurt One. That’s what Paulina would whisper whenever she dropped another toy in front of me— they deserved it. And my father? He was the one who made sure I understood that message, his words cold and calculating. The one thing he ever bothered to explain to me, to teach me, was how the Rosses should pay. How their blood should be spilled to avenge the sins they committed against us.
Even now, I can feel the fire burning inside me, the same rage that has never really gone away. I want to make them pay. I need to make them pay, even though everything inside me screams that I should hate my father.
I do hate him. But that need to see them suffer... it still claws at me, raw and untamed.
"Mia, Cory Ross is dead," Zane says, looking down. "That’s what happens in cycles of vengeance."
"Then I’ll take his son. I’ll take whoever I have to, to avenge my brother. That was always my goal."
Zane looks at me, unwavering. "Mia, if Cory really hurt your brother, I’ll stand by your side—between heaven and earth."
"Even if it means standing against your own family? I can’t let you do that."
Because I know he’s one of them. I’ve fallen for one of them, and that’s the truth I’ve been hiding from myself. I failed my brother.
"You are my family," Zane says. "You will always be my priority."
"Zane," I whisper.
"If we ever find ourselves on opposite sides of this war, I’d rather die than hurt you," he says, pressing his forehead against mine. "You don’t understand, do you? Of all the people I’ve seen you lose control over—even my mother—I will always protect you. I will always stand by you. Even if it’s not the winning side. You are my wife. You are mine to protect."
I don’t respond with words. Instead, I kiss him, feeling my heart race with every second that our lips meet.
The kiss says everything I need it to—there’s no need for words.
I let the intensity take over, the spontaneity of the moment guiding me, and for once, I don’t think about what I should say or do. I just feel . I can feel the electricity between us, and in this moment, it’s all I need. No need for explanations, no boundaries.
Our mouths meet in a frantic rush, nibbling and sucking, desperate to taste each other. I pull back for a moment, just to drink him in—every detail, every breath shared between us.
After a few minutes, I can't stay still anymore, my body moving instinctively, searching for that deeper sensation, that heightened connection.
Slowly, Zane begins to slide his fingers in and out of me. And then, when he finds my clit, he massages the area, letting an incomprehensible sound come out of me.
“You’re so sensitive to touch,” he murmurs against my ear as his fingers fuck me.
“Not just any touch,” I whisper, my breath shaky as his fingers linger, “just yours. Because I own you. I can do whatever I want to you, and you’ll do whatever I want... and it drives me crazy, makes me so damn needy.”
“Baby…”
“Yes, little angel.”
“Let me show you how much I want you, how much I need to taste you.”
"Okay," I rasp.
It's all the permission he needs before he grabs me by the hips and positions me in front of his face.
I feel the anticipation in my body of what's to come, his hands sliding over my hip, making me feel more desperate.
I feel the wetness running down my leg, and Zane lets out a satisfied smile.
He kisses my thigh, licking my taste as if he doesn't want to waste a single drop, and I watch every second of his act, thinking about what it would be like to watch him fuck me.
Then, in a teasing and lazy movement, his tongue slides over my folds, causing my hands to close over his curls, holding them tightly.
“Zane,” I gasp.
“Am I doing this right?” Zane says under his breath, seeking approval.
Is he doing it right? He's doing it perfectly I've never felt like this before.
“Yes, my little angel, you are doing it perfectly.”
“Good,” he murmurs and then sucks on my clit, making me gasp again.
His hands continue to slide over my stomach and then play with my breasts while his tongue makes magical movements against me.
He kisses my pussy with greed and hunger, and fuck, it feels good, so good.
“You taste delicious, baby,” he pants between kisses, his hands now gripping my hips tightly to force me even further into his face.
“Zane, please,” I beg, but I don’t know exactly what I’m begging for.
But maybe Zane knows because he hits a specific spot that sends me over the edge, and then I'm collapsing into his mouth.
“Little Angel that was…”
“Yeah…” he says with a satisfied smile. “I feel that way too.”