Chapter 48 Sloane #3
Zeth sees the flicker of doubt in my eyes before I can rein it in, though.
His jaw tightens. “Have I ever raised a hand to you? Have I ever…” He trails off, exhaling sharply.
He looks away for a second, and when he turns back to me, his gaze pierces me through.
“I don’t hurt people who can’t defend themselves.
I don’t hurt girls. I will never hurt you. ”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” But even as I’m saying this, the Pippa voice is back and on a mission.
The guy’s pinning you to the goddamn bed, Sloane!
Like, right now! What the hell is wrong with you?
It’s almost as if Zeth can hear that voice, too.
He carefully lifts himself up a little, removing most of the pressure he was exerting on me with his body.
His hand stays locked around my wrists, but the tension eases a little, making my fingers throb painfully as the blood rushes back into them.
“I might stop you from going nuts on the odd occasion, Sloane. I might spank you, but I would never harm you like that. I thought you knew that.”
I’ve reclaimed my cool now. He’s not overly mad about the gun—I can see that—but he’s still not overly happy with me, either. “I just thought…”
“That I’d rip your head off for threatening to kill me?
Yeah, well…” He shifts, pressing down on me again.
The subtle weight transference seems to wake up my body.
I realize my legs are spread, knees drawn up, feet flat against the mattress, and Zeth’s huge and powerful body is between my thighs.
And he’s naked. He’s not shy with his body, but his confidence has nothing to do with his physique.
It’s something else. Something I haven’t quite been able to put my finger on just yet.
Whatever it is, he’s still lying on top of me, and my jeans and T-shirt are the only barriers between us.
Zeth rumbles, as though he’s been waiting for me to notice our tangled position.
“No, you threatening to kill me wasn’t exactly what I was expecting,” he says. “But you did look incredibly sexy with a gun in your hand. Do you know how to use it?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s even sexier.” He dips his head down and grazes his teeth against my neck, surprising me.
His warm breath causes goose bumps to break out down my arms and legs, as well as the sensitive area below my ear.
My nipples tighten automatically. My body is way ahead of my head right now.
I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that I just held Zeth Mayfair at gunpoint—that it felt good—but my body is craving his touch.
I want to feel him everywhere all at once.
A few moments ago, Zeth’s weight was crushing, and now…
now I want him to smother me with his body so that the only thing I can breathe and see and feel and smell is him.
I think there’s something wrong with me.
“You got any more ideas about how you’re gonna make me your bitch?” The words vibrate through the muscle and bone of his chest, sending chills through me.
“No.”
“Good. Because you won’t be able to threaten me with weaponry tomorrow night.
And besides…” He grabs hold of the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it roughly upward with his free hand.
“You like this better, don’t you? You like obeying me.
You like feeling defenseless. You like that trickle of fear, lighting up your insides. It makes you feel alive.”
He’s right. He’s always fucking right. I hate that he is, but it also saves us a lot of hassle.
I enjoy my work. I pay my bills. I keep my shit clean and tidy.
But I haven’t had to make a tough decision in a long time.
Nothing has been life or death. But choosing to continue whatever this is with Zeth, choosing to follow him down here to L.A.
to find my sister, choosing to let him touch me, to lick and suck and bite at my skin, to obey him?
Choosing all of that has felt like choosing to live.
Zeth pulls the cup of my black bra down, exposing my breast. His eyes feast on the expanse of pale skin on show, focusing hungrily on my pale pink areola.
He makes that delicious, toe-curling sound at the back of his throat, like a starved animal, and then he ducks down and takes my nipple into his mouth.
At first, he runs his tongue around and around, playing with the tightened bud, but then he uses his teeth, nipping hard enough to make my back arch up in a mix of pleasure and pain.
“You want me inside you, angry girl?” He pulls down the other side of my bra, freeing my other breast, and then he traces his tongue up the swell of my flesh and takes that one into his mouth, too. A stuttering sigh escapes me, ruffling his short, disheveled hair.
“Yes. I want you in… inside me.”
He chuckles at my lightheaded response, and then he tilts forward, grinding himself against me.
His cock is hardened steel, pressed up against my inner thigh.
I pull in a quick breath, closing my eyes.
I want him. I want to feel his skin against mine.
I want to feel his cock rubbing up against my clit so badly that I push back, rocking my hips up to meet him.
“You hungry, Sloane? You want me that bad, huh?” Ohhhh, that smile.
Slow as honey. Suggestive as sin. Adrenaline and endorphins collide in my bloodstream, tilting the room.
I need to be naked right now. I try to communicate this, but all that comes out of my mouth is a frustrated groan.
Zeth’s eyes dilate, zeroing in on me. He tugs his lower lip between his teeth, his breath catching, as though he enjoys that sort of reaction out of me.
Does he? Do I inspire the same need in him that he kindles in me?
He pushes up against me, and I gasp, my eyes rolling back into my head.
It feels amazing when he does that. I’m burning, desperate to be touched, but…
why am I still dressed? It’s a fucking travesty.
Zeth’s mouth twitches. Rocking back onto his heels, cock rigid and brushing up against his belly, he takes the ankles of my jeans and pulls without even bothering to undo the button or fly.
They don’t come off easily, but he isn’t about to be thwarted by a pair of fucking pants.
“I’m gonna try something different with you, Sloane. And you’re gonna like it, okay?”
By the dangerous lilt in his voice, this information is a warning and not reassurance. “What are you gonna do?”
With a final rough jerk, he tears my jeans off my body.
“Wait and see.” My T-shirt goes next. He grabs me by my hips and pulls me toward him on the bed, drawing me upright so I’m sitting, and then he rips it over my head.
He falls on me like a man possessed. My bra straps have fallen down over my shoulders, and my breasts are still free; Zeth cups both of his powerful hands over them, my nipples throbbing in time with my pulse.
“Your tits are amazing,” he whispers. “But I wanna see them up here.” He picks me up and holds me like I weigh nothing at all.
On his knees, he grabs my thighs and pulls one up over his hip, indicating what he wants me to do.
I’m all too happy to oblige. With his cock trapped between us, every movement he makes sends fire licking up my spine.
He kisses and licks my breasts, his hands gripping me tightly around the waist as he arranges himself in a sitting position with me straddling him.
I’m still wearing my panties, but that’s no hindrance to Zeth. Carefully, he gathers the material together and tugs it upward, so the bunched lace applies intense pressure on my clit.
“Ah!”
“I hope you’re not overly fond of these,” he says, doing it again. “They’re not gonna last long.”
My breath saws in and out. My cheeks are flushed.
Hell, my whole body is flushed. A primal, animal part of me takes over as I begin to rock against him, angling myself so that our hips are in alignment, pushing and rubbing and grinding.
Coupled with the fact that he continues to tease my underwear, pulling it taut as I move, my head starts to swim.
I’m out of breath. Delirious. I don’t exaggerate the cry that comes out of me when he slips his fingers beneath my panties and strokes the slick heat of my pussy.
I’m too far gone to be embarrassed by how wet I am.
How wet he’s made me. I just accept it and grind harder into his hand.
Zeth props himself up on one elbow and reclines, assessing me from head to toe as I set my body free, letting it do whatever it wants to do.
I lean forward and place my hands on his chest, tracing my fingertips across the dark spill of tattoos across his pecs and his shoulders.
The bruised purple of the scar where he was shot just below his collarbone nearly two months ago now.
The graceful, packed lines of his solid muscles.
I’m learning every single last line of him, committing him to memory and enjoying the process immensely.
I’m drunk on him. And not beer drunk. I’m fucking tequila drunk.
Sideways. Gone. Blind with how badly I need him.
“You’re fucking amazing,” he rasps. My ears are filled with the sound of my roaring blood and our combined panting, but, fuck, Zeth sounds drunk, too.
He slides a finger inside me and I’m done for.
It’s no good. His fingers aren’t enough.
I want all of him, buried balls deep inside me, pounding into me until all I see is stars.
I reach down, and a whole new fire ignites inside me when I close my hand around his swollen cock.
He’s huge, rigid and smooth as warmed marble.
He feels like silk-wrapped steel as I slowly pump my hand up and down his shaft.
“Fuck, Sloane.” His body locks up, his muscles vibrating as they strain beneath his skin. “Fuck!” He can’t wait any longer, either. He grabs me, falling forward so I’m on my back again, and then he’s on top of me, guiding himself into me so slowly, taking his sweet fucking time over taking me.
There’s a safe site at one of the free clinics I volunteer at.
I’ve watched users shoot up and seen nirvana take them as the drugs have soaked their blood.
I understand now. My eyelids flutter as I’m washed away on a tide of pleasure.
My body stretches around him, accommodating him as he languorously claims me.
He lets me float for a second, his dark eyes devouring my expression as I shudder, trying and failing to breathe…
And then he fucks me.
He’s ruthless as he slams himself into me again, again, again, impaling me on the end of his cock. “Oh, shit! Zeth!”
“You okay?” he growls.
I nod, digging my fingers into his back.
The sharp bite of pain encourages him, and he powers on, slamming into me over and over.
I hold on to his shoulders, clinging on for dear life, and he…
he ducks his head and kisses my fingers.
Everything slows. He… he kissed my fingers?
Holy shit. Surprise prickles over my skin, fueling my building orgasm.
I tremble, wrecked, as Zeth drives himself into me, my synapses flaring like stars being born and dying in the blink of an eye.
“How bad do you need to come, Sloane?” Zeth pants.
“Oh my God, please.” If this is his payback… If he pulls out and leaves me like this…
But Zeth has something else in mind. He slides his hand up my body and doesn’t stop until he reaches my neck. Once he’s there, he curls his fingers around my throat and squeezes, applying the tiniest amount of pressure. “Do you want this?” he pants.
The memory of the belt in the hotel room takes me out at the knees. It had scared me, but also seriously turned me on…
His grip tightens the tiniest amount, his eyes narrowing at the same time. “You safe,” Zeth rasps. “I’m gonna make it feel good. I’ve got you.”
The surrender. The loss of control. The vulnerability. It stirs something strange inside of me…
“Say the word, Sloane. I’ll stop. I promise.”
I don’t hurt girls. I will never hurt you.
Medically, I know how dangerous this is. I’ve seen all kinds of damage caused by breath play. Cervical spine damage. Brain damage. Death. Jesus fucking Christ, why am I even considering it? But…
That’s the whole point, isn’t it. The stakes are high. He’s testing the ground between us, seeing if it will hold the weight of whatever this might become.
I nod. Do it.
Zeth bares his teeth, victorious, as he grips my throat and fucks me like he means it. He leaves me just enough room to breathe.
“Ride it out, angry girl. That’s it.”
I slide my hands up Zeth’s torso, shivering at the wall of heat and muscle beneath my palms. Zeth raises his eyebrows, smiling open-mouthed: You like that, Sloane Romera?
He thrusts himself deep, grinding hard against me, making sure I feel every inch of him as he works his cock in and out of my pussy.
I’m not afraid anymore. I’m dizzy, sure, but the sensation is heady. And he will stop. One tap from me and it ends. My senses fire into overdrive, heightening, the colors in the room flaring vivid, bold, bright. Zeth’s touch leaves sparks in its wake, and I revel in the chaos.
We are one carnal creature, moving in unison, working together to reach the same finish line. It’s fast approaching. I can feel it building, cycling around my body, growing and pulsing… until… until…
“Shit. Shit! Oh my g… fuckimgonnacome, Zeth!”
He said he was going to make it feel good. This is better than good. Forget fireworks. A nuclear fucking bomb goes off in my head as I climax. I try to bite the scream back, but I can’t keep it in check. Zeth’s hand loosens, but even so, I barely make a sound.
“Holy fuck. Yes. Keep going, keep going. Come for me, Sloane. Come hard.”
From the strain in his voice, he’s holding himself back.
That doesn’t last long. I make sure of it.
I reach down between our bodies and find what I’m looking for.
I take hold of his balls and squeeze gently, grabbing his ass with my free hand and pulling him into me even deeper.
I’m a hollow shell after that orgasm, but I manage to open my eyes enough to watch him get his.
It’s a beautiful thing to witness. With bared teeth, he slams himself inside me and roars.
A high-pitched hum fills the bedroom.
Zeth holds himself up for all of a second before collapsing on top of me, breathing hard.
That was… fuck, there are no words to describe what that was. We lie there, pulses flying, chests pumping like billows, skin cooling, hearts slowly easing, breath slowly deepening…
Room…
… slowly fading…