20. Claimed by Zade
Claimed by Zade
Soriah
C arpet brushes the soles of my feet, and I wince when wood groans on every other step.
But I’ll be damned if I’m not doing this tonight.
Aunt Nat returned to her room after cleaning up once everyone finished eating.
Zeke and Zephyr left with Uncle Zac and Deaton under her disapproving glare from the top of the stairs, her bedroom door held ajar.
And I probably shouldn’t dub them the three musketeers, but I can’t help it.
Tito, Bella, and Carlos—Zion’s son, and no, I don’t think anyone knew he had a seventeen-year-old son, including himself—wandered into one of Uncle Zac’s game rooms. As the name implies, games—arcade game machines—line every wall.
I heard them squeal with excitement and figured they’d be down there for hours.
The timing couldn’t be more perfect. After a quick dash into my bedroom to change into something less comfortable, I’m now stalking down the hall to Zade’s room, feeling all the world like a horny teenager about to sneak around with her boyfriend.
And dammit, Zade will be my boyfriend after this.
We’ll deal with the inevitable fallout with our parents when they return.
Instead of knocking, I turn the doorknob and scurry inside. His head jerks toward me, eyes widening and mouth falling open. I grin at him. A plain white night shirt falls to my just above my knees. It’s not the sexiest thing in the world to wear, but I’m completely naked underneath.
Siri. What are you doing in here?
I thought that was obvious, but maybe not. And did I mention I absolutely love that he has a unique nickname for me that’s reserved for just the two of us? No one else calls me Siri. Just Zade.
I walk over to him, my smile widening at the heat slowly spreading in his gaze.
Large hands grip the arms of the computer chair, causing a squeak to carry out.
His chest rises and falls rapidly once I’m standing directly in front of him, looking down into pools of green.
He truly has the most beautiful pair of eyes I’ve ever seen.
Leaning down, I brush my lips over his parted mouth, inhaling the ragged breath he releases.
“Fuck me, Zade. No more excuses. Tonight, they’ll find him and end him. Tonight, I want you to claim me as yours. Don’t make me beg,” I whisper, heart galloping wildly in my chest.
If he turns me away, I’ll shatter into a million pieces. With a single word, he can destroy me. Three fingers tapped together once or twice is all it’ll take. No in ASL. Or more devastating, it can be the one time he deigns to speak, dashing any hope.
He doesn’t do either of those things, lifting a hand to grip my nape and pull me down so our lips meet in a heated, frenzied kiss. My mouth parts, letting his tongue invade and explore every corner. I moan, nipples tightening and my core pulsing.
“Zade, please,” I whimper, tearing my mouth away.
I need him. Now. He nods, rising and forcing me to step back until he’s looming above me.
I don’t get the chance to ask him what happens next.
He swoops forward, arms wrapping around me and lifting me off my feet.
My legs wrap around his waist and I groan at the hardness pressing against my bare pussy.
As he walks us toward the narrow twin bed that I wonder if we’ll fit on, I grind against his cock, making whimpering noises at the pleasure zipping along my clit from the friction.
It’s nearly perfect. But I want him inside me.
I want to come around his cock and see the face he makes when he comes while he’s filling me up, over and over again.
God, I want him to spill inside me again.
I don’t know how I’m going to keep my noises down. Already, I want to shout and scream his name, the bed looming closer, and he hasn’t even entered me yet. It’s the wait, the suspense. Everything changes after this. I know it. My soul and body know it.
Skin presses into my nails from the tight grip I’ve secured around his neck, and when he’s towering above the bed, I’m reluctant to let go, to separate from him for even a second. He chuckles softly, shifting forward to place a knee on the bed, and we tumble down in a tangle of limbs and laughs.
This. It’s perfect. It’s how it should be, natural and effortless. Yes, nerves swim in my gut, turning my skin sweaty and clammy, but I don’t want to back out for a moment. Doubts do not invade my mind, teasing me with what-ifs. I’m one hundred percent on board with this.
Are you sure? We can wait ? —
I shake my head emphatically.
“No, no more waiting, Zade. Do you want this, want me?” I swallow down any other questions, fearful of the answer I’ll receive. My eyes remain on his chest, even though I need to see his hands.
Fingers tip my chin up and I gasp, arching into him when he brings his face down to mine, capturing my lips and grinding his cock into me. Oh, fuck. Yes!
“Zade, please.” I can’t take any more waiting. I need him now. He nods like he understands. Cool air sweeps into the space abandoned by him when he rises, pulling a gray t-shirt up and over his head.
My hands glide along silky, firm skin, muscles contracting beneath my fingers. Holy abs. Zade works out? I mean, I saw how fucking muscled his thighs were in the shower but damn, my brain didn’t compute until now, feeling him beneath my touch.
“You work out?” I blurt, skin flushing as soon as the words leave my lips. His shoulders shake again from his laughter.
Not in public gyms. Deaton lets me work out in the junkyard. And I run, bike, flip tires, stuff like that. When my blood is rushing and my muscles are working, I can’t hear ? —
His hands freezes, and I bring mine up to grip them, giving him an encouraging smile. I understand. For Zade, everything’s about quieting the chaos in his mind. I pull, bringing his hands to my chest, using them to skate along my hardened nipples. His cock jumps through his sweats, drawing my gaze.
He doesn’t need further instructions, sliding his hands to the hem of the shirt and shoving it up, exposing me to him on the path upward.
I lean forward so he can pull it over my head, tossing the shirt to the floor carelessly.
I’m naked beneath him, blushing and uncertain if I should shield my breasts or preen under the hunger in his eyes.
The grin he flashes me is a warning and a promise. He dives forward, sucking a nipple into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. My body jerks off the bed, a moan tumbling from my lips.
“Zade,” I moan, shifting beneath him. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his hand traveling down my belly to slip between my folds, all without releasing my nipple.
Oh, he’s gotten so good at this. I jerk my hips up, meeting his questing fingers eagerly.
I’m slick enough for him to breach me easily, crooking that finger and making me see stars.
“Yes, right there,” I enthuse, riding his hand. He adds another finger, bringing me closer to the edge. But I want his cock inside me when that happens.
“Zade!” I groan in frustration. I don’t want to wait any longer. Each drawn-out moment pushes me close to madness. If I don’t have him inside me soon, I’ll expire on the spot.
He releases my nipple with a wet pop, smiling at me. It’s tender and soft. I don’t get to bask under it for too long before he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his cock. Oh, it’s even bigger than I remembered. Am I drooling? Possibly, and I don’t care.
It’s the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen and I want it like I want my next orgasm.
Hands hook under my thighs, pulling me toward him.
His shaft slips along my folds, and I’m tempted to impale myself right then and there, but Zade beats me to it.
He grips his cock, sliding it down and coating the tip in my arousal before sliding the barest inch inside of me.
I can’t take my eyes off of it, staring down the length of my body to where we’re barely joined. He shoves forward, sheathing more of it, and I moan as the piercings scrape along my walls. I’d nearly forgotten about them. They feel as good as I’d thought they would. But it isn’t enough.
He’s feeding his cock into me at a snail’s pace, and I want to scream at him to fuck me raw and rough.
I want to feel owned, like when he’d wrapped his hand around my throat and assumed control.
I don’t want him to use me as a distraction from his mind, but in this moment, I want to be his doll, his puppet.
I don’t want gentle lovemaking, at least not for our first time.
We have all the time in the world to try slow and sweet.
“Zade,” I growl. A dark brow rises and with a roll of his hips, he sinks in further and my toes fucking curl. That piercing! The one at the tip. Oh, it’s doing unholy things to me, and I want more of it.
I don’t want to shout in case someone overhears, but if he doesn’t give it to me like he owns me, I’ll scream the damn house down.
“Y-y-y.. u…s-s-s.” Time freezes, and I stare at him open-mouthed. A cute flush paints his cheeks, but he has nothing to be embarrassed about. To hear his voice, that deep, raspy undertone for even a few syllables, is more than I’d imagined .
“Fuck me like you hate me, Zade. Don’t be gentle.
I’ve seen how you get when you want something.
You take. I’m yours, so fucking take me—” His hips slam forward, driving his cock home and all of my inner muscles tighten, clenching around the invasion.
But beneath the sweet burn of being stretched is pleasure, coiled tightly.
Like I’d broken the floodgates, he doesn’t let up, retreating and surging forward again.