Chapter 18 #2
The sound I make is immediate and undignified, and I don’t even try to swallow it.
“There it is,” he says, satisfied as if he owns every sound that comes out of my mouth. “Good girl.”
His hands slide down my stomach and into the waistband of my underwear, fingers sliding slowly through my pussy, exploring how wet I am.
He makes a low sound against the back of my neck like what he finds there pleases him enormously.
He does it again, slower, parting me, his fingers slick with it, before he finally drags my underwear down, unhurried, crouching behind me to take them off my ankles.
When he stands he pushes me forward over the counter, and then his hands slide to my inner thighs. He nudges my legs apart, positioning me exactly where he wants me.
I hear his belt, his zip, and then feel his cock nudging against me, lining up.
He slides in slowly, stretching me open, and the sensation of it makes my mouth drop open.
My fingers scramble for the edge of the counter.
He groans, the sound dragged out of him as if he can’t help it.
He stills with himself buried all the way inside me and I feel so unbearably full that I cannot breathe.
“Fuck,” he grits out against the back of my neck. Like even he wasn’t prepared for it.
Zane pulls back and slides in again, deeper this time, and my whole body rolls forward with it. The sound I make is shameless and I don’t care even a little. I push back against him, wanting more of it, wanting all of it, and he gives it to me, as if he wants me to experience every single stroke.
“Good girl,” he breathes. “Take it.”
He doesn’t give me a moment to adjust.
His hands grip my hips hard and he sets a deep, unrelenting rhythm—each stroke filling me completely. The sound of it in the quiet kitchen is obscene and I can’t do anything but take it. Take him.
“Hands on the counter,” he says when I try to reach back for him. “Don’t move them.”
I put them back and keep them there.
His hand comes around to the front and his fingers find my clit.
I cry out, my head dropping forward and he doesn’t slow down, just keeps working me from both angles like he knows exactly what he is doing, which he does.
“Please,” I hear myself say.
“Please, what?”
“Harder.”
He makes a low sound against the back of my neck and gives me what I asked for. The counter digs into my stomach and I push back to meet him because I cannot help it.
“Greedy girl,” he says, low and rough, his voice carrying a satisfaction that makes it worse. “Take it then.”
His fingers don’t let up on my clit as his cock drives into me and I cannot decide which one to focus on so I stop trying and just let both of it wash over me at once.
I am gripping the counter and just taking it.
“Fucking hell,” he grits out against my neck, his rhythm faltering for a second before he drives forward again, harder this time. “You feel that? How well your pussy takes me?”
I cannot answer but I make a sound instead.
“Every fucking time,” he breathes, more to himself than to me. His fingers press harder on my clit as his hips set a deeper, slower stroke. “Every single time.”
His hand slides from my clit to my hip and he grips me hard, pulling me back onto his cock and he groans out loud. The sound of it goes straight through me.
“Look at you,” he says, as his hand finds my clit again, circling slowly.
I cry out and push back against him. “That’s it. Just like that.”
He picks up the pace, his breathing ragged. I am shaking from how good it feels. How it has always been like this with him, as if he were made for it. As if I were made for this. For him. For exactly this moment in this kitchen with his body against mine and nowhere left to hide.
“Hottest fucking thing I have ever seen,” he grits out. “You have no idea.”
My orgasm is building—that low, unstoppable pull in my stomach, tightening with every stroke.
“Zane.” His name comes out as a warning.
“I know,” he says against my neck. “I can feel you.”
His fingers press a little harder as his hips drive forward. I cry out and grip the counter because there is nowhere to go and no way to slow it down. It’s coming whether I am ready for it or not.
“That’s it,” he grits out, his breathing ragged against my neck. His rhythm loses its steadiness, growing more urgent, more desperate. “Come on. Give it to me.”
Zane drives forward again—deeper, harder—and I shatter completely. My whole body locks up and then releases in a long, trembling wave that rolls through me from my clit to my fingertips. I cry out, loud and shameless, his name and nothing else.
“Fuck,” he groans behind me, then buries himself deep and stills, his whole body shuddering against my back as he spills into me. His forehead rests on my neck, his fingers clenching my hips with intense pressure. He groans again, the sound of a man who has completely lost himself.
For a long moment, neither of us moves.
His forehead is pressed against my spine, both of us breathing hard, neither of us moving, as if the world has temporarily suspended itself and we are the only two people in it.
Then, slowly, he presses a single, soft kiss to my back. Right between my shoulder blades. Gentle in a way that is completely at odds with everything that had just happened, and somehow that contrast, that tenderness sitting right up against all of it, is what finally undoes me.
His arm comes around my waist and he holds me there. His chest warm against my back as he presses another kiss, slow and soft, just below the first.
I close my eyes.
“You okay?” he murmurs against my skin.
“Yes,” I breathe.
I’m more than okay. Completely and entirely okay in a way I haven’t been in longer than I can remember. Boneless and warm, held by the one person who has always known exactly what to do with all of me—the sharp parts, the soft parts and everything in between.
His arm tightens slightly around my waist. Not asking for anything, just keeping me close. His cock is still inside me as both of us come down slowly.
“What does this mean for us now, Sky?”
His voice is soft against my skin.
Nothing at all like the man who had me shaking against the counter only moments ago. Just Zane, asking the only question that has ever mattered, because he has finally put his heart in my hands and needs to know what I am going to do with it.
I close my eyes and feel the weight of him still inside me.
“I don’t know exactly,” I say.
His forehead lowers between my shoulder blades as his breath moves over my skin, uneven and warm. He’s waiting with the particular stillness of a man holding himself very carefully together.
I open my eyes.
“But I’m not running,” I say.
Something leaves his body all at once. His arms tighten around me and he lets out a breath against my back.
“That’s enough,” he murmurs. “That is enough, Sky.”
He pulls back slowly, his cock sliding out of me, and his cum leaks down the inside of my thigh.
I turn carefully in his arms.
When I face him, the look in his eyes almost takes me completely apart. Open and unguarded. It is a look I have caught glimpses of over the years and talked myself out of believing was real.
I lift my hand to his face.
His eyes close the second my fingers touch his cheek. His jaw is rough under my palm and the muscle there tightens briefly before it relaxes.
“I don’t know what tomorrow holds for us, Zane,” I say quietly. “But I know I don’t want to go back to pretending I can live without you.”
The breath leaves him before his arms come around me, pulling me fully against his chest. His chin drops to the top of my head and he holds me in the middle of the kitchen as if he is not planning to let go anytime soon.
I press my face into his chest and listen to his heartbeat—steady, fast, and real. I let my eyes close and my arms wrap around his waist. I hold him back just as hard.
I let myself have this. All of it. Without turning it into something I have to survive first, brace against, or hold at arm’s length until I decide whether it is safe. I let it be what it is, which is him, me, and this.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I am not waiting for it to hurt.