19. Chapter 19 #3
“Someone could walk in,” I whisper, yet my voice comes out sounding like I’m giving him one more reason to do this.
Which I probably am.
My body and my mind are still trying to decide whether the risk is unnerving or hot.
With one hard pull, he slides the leather belt from its loops and drops it onto the table beside my hip. His hand moves to his zipper, slowly drawing it down.
“Let them.” His voice drops as he steps deeper between my parted thighs. “If anyone walks through that door, they’ll just have to watch me fuck you.”
The words send another pulse of heat straight between my legs.
“You wouldn’t.” I shake my head. “You wouldn’t let them.”
Zed tips his head, the faintest trace of a smirk pulling at his wet lips.
I know that look.
He’d probably put anyone who walked through that door straight through the opposite wall for seeing me like this, but something tells me that still wouldn’t make him stop.
His eyes stay on mine as his fingers disappear under his waistband, and suddenly I’m not thinking about the door anymore.
I’m watching his hand.
Slowly, he pulls his cock free from his pants, and a soft breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. He’s thick and hard in his own fist, a prominent vein running along the length, and knowing exactly what he’s about to do with it sends a deep ache through my belly.
He stands between my spread legs, breathing harder now as his tattooed fingers wrap around himself. He strokes his cock once, then again, taking his time with it while his pale eyes stay fixed on my face.
“Miss it?”
The question is pure Zed—like he doesn’t already know the answer from the way I’m staring at him.
He steps closer, his thighs parting mine even wider as the heat of his body closes the remaining space between us.
“Because I...” he murmurs, lowering his face toward mine, his breath warm against my parted lips while his free hand disappears under my bunched-up gown, fingers hooking into the narrow strap of my underwear.
“...missed...”
With a tug, he pulls my panties to the side, exposing me to the cool air of the room. A small sound slips from my throat as my fingers dig into his black dress shirt and my hips tilt toward him, already searching for contact.
His mouth brushes mine.
“...this sweet little cunt.”
Zed’s hand drops to my thigh, his fingers closing firmly around it as he draws me right to the edge of the table. He adjusts my leg higher against his hip, opening me farther before bringing the broad head of his cock against my clit.
The first slow pass makes my breath stutter.
He does it again.
My head falls back as he drags himself through the wetness between my thighs, taking his time as though he has all night to make me crazy.
“Zed.”
He doesn’t answer.
He just does it again.
God.
The friction is almost unbearable. His cock is hard and slick against me, sliding over my clit in long, deliberate strokes while his hand keeps my thigh exactly where he wants it. Every time my hips try to hurry him, his grip tightens and slows me back down.
That’s when I realize he’s doing it on purpose.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accuse.
His eyes lift to mine.
“Very much.”
Another slow stroke makes my stomach tighten.
“You could just—”
“I could,” he says.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he watches my face while he rubs himself over me again, and suddenly Liam’s voice isn’t the loudest thing in my head anymore.
Zed is.
His mouth against mine. His hand controlling the pace. The thick length of him moving over me while I get wetter and increasingly frustrated that he refuses to give me what my body is already begging for.
He drags the head of his cock lower and nudges it against my entrance, barely pressing in before pulling back again.
My eyes fly open.
Zed is watching me.
Of course he is.
His hand comes up to my face, his thumb brushing slowly over my bottom lip before his fingers settle along my jaw, keeping my eyes on his while he presses against me again.
My stomach clenches.
Then he pushes inside.
The first stretch pulls a sharp cry from me, and Zed’s mouth comes down over mine as he slides deeper. My hands grab his shoulders, holding on while my body adjusts around him, the initial sting slowly giving way to the fullness I remember.
Except remembering it and feeling Zed inside me again are two very different things.
He keeps coming slowly, not because he’s hesitant, but because he’s controlling every inch of it.
His hand stays firm on my thigh as he watches my face, giving my body time to take him before pushing deeper.
There’s something almost maddening about how much control he has when I can feel exactly how hard he is, how badly he wants this, and how much effort it’s costing him not to simply bury himself inside me.
“Zed.”
Another slow push steals the rest of my breath, the table digging into the backs of my thighs as my fingers bunch his dress shirt in my fists.
His jaw clenches.
“Almost there, snowflake.”
His fingers tighten around my thigh as he drives the rest of his cock inside me, and when his hips finally press flush against mine, the sheer fullness of him steals what little breath I have left.
Zed goes still, but there’s nothing relaxed about it. His body is rigid between my legs, his hand gripping me harder as he presses his forehead to mine and drags in a rough breath.
“Fuck, Lilly.”
Hearing the strain in his voice does something filthy to me.
Because this is costing him too.
For all his control, all that size and confidence and the way he’s been touching me like he could keep this pace forever, I can feel what holding back is doing to him now.
His stomach is pulled tight under his shirt, the hand around my thigh has gone rigid, and when I make the smallest movement against him, his eyes close for one brief second like even that is almost more than he can take.
His hand moves from my thigh to my jaw, holding my face to his as his tongue moves against mine in time with the deep roll of his hips, kissing me with the same concentration he’s using to work every inch of himself inside me.
I’m trapped between the table and his massive frame, my dress bunched around my hips and my legs spread wide enough to accommodate the sheer size of him. My breathing turns uneven, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I feel the muscles tightening beneath his shirt every time he moves.
Zed doesn’t give me long to adjust.
He draws back until he’s almost completely out, the slow drag of his cock making my stomach clench before he pumps back inside with a low sound against my mouth. The table gives a strained creak beneath us as his hips meet mine, and the fullness of him pushes a cry straight out of me.
“Ah, Zed!”
“Look at me,” he demands, pulling back before snapping his hips forward again, harder this time, hitting so deep my fingers curl into his shirt.
I force my eyes open.
The sight of him almost makes it worse.
His black shirt has pulled loose from his slacks, several buttons open now, giving me a glimpse of his chest every time his body moves against mine.
A flush has spread high across his cheekbones while his pale eyes stay locked on my face, watching every reaction he pulls from me.
There’s still so much control in the way he moves, each long stroke measured even as his breathing gets rougher and the muscles beneath my hands pull tighter.
He pulls back and pounds into me harder, finding a rhythm that sends the table rocking under us. The wet slap of our bodies fills the room as his hips drive between my thighs, his hand still holding my face toward his while my legs tighten around him.
“Did he ever make you feel like this?” Zed asks, his mouth moving along my jaw before his teeth catch the sensitive skin beneath my ear.
I know exactly who he means.
“No.” My head falls back as he drives deep again, the pressure building low and fast in my stomach. “Just you.”
Zed stills for barely a second.
I feel it —the sudden tension through his body, the expansion of his chest against mine before his eyes find my face again.
“That’s fucking right,” he mutters. “This is the only dick you need.”
He gives me one short pump, then follows it with a harder snap of his hips that makes my toes curl inside my heels and pulls a helpless sound from my mouth.
His hand leaves my jaw and moves between us, his thumb finding my clit while his hips keep the same steady rhythm.
The added pressure sends pleasure rushing through me so quickly that my hands slide from his shoulders to the back of his neck, holding on as he works me with his hand and his cock at the same time.
“Zed...”
He knows.
I can tell from the way he watches me, his attention moving over my face as my breathing gets faster and my thighs tighten around him. His thumb circles again, giving me exactly the pressure I need before his hips drive forward and hit that same spot deep inside me.
“Oh, God.”
Another hard pump sends the table into the wall behind me with a dull knock.
Zed’s mouth comes down on mine, swallowing the next sound that leaves me as his thumb keeps rubbing circles over my clit. The pleasure inside me builds with every hard stroke, pulling tighter and tighter until I’m barely kissing him anymore, my lips parted against his while I fight to breathe.
“Oh my God.”
My body starts to tighten around him, the pressure building so quickly that my thighs draw tighter around his hips. Zed feels it too. I know he does from the way his eyes sharpen on mine, his thumb keeping the same perfect rhythm as his hips drive into me again.
I’m so close I can already feel the first wave starting to take me, my fingers digging into the back of his neck as I pull him closer.
And that’s when he stops.
His hips go completely still while he stays buried inside me, so deep that the sudden loss of movement is almost painful after the rhythm he’d built.
His thumb stops too, resting against my clit while my body pulses uselessly around him, my orgasm close enough that I can practically feel it slipping away.