He’s not pressing down all the way. Feeling that massive hand close around my neck was frightening enough to make me panic, but now I can feel what he’s doing. And it’s not going to kill me. It’s not even going to even make me pass out.
It takes sheer force of will to make my hands slide up to Zeth’s torso, placing them just about as far from my own throat as I possibly can. It’s a trust move—one that doesn’t go unnoticed. Zeth raises his eyebrows, in appreciation or surprise, I’m not sure, and he makes an effort to slow down his movements. He stares down at me as he forces himself deep inside with each push, grinding hard against me, making sure I feel the full length of him as he works his cock in and out of my pussy. I can barely breathe, but I’m not afraid anymore. As soon as I decide not to panic, the sensation of being choked becomes…it actually becomes exciting. The restricted oxygen he’s allowing me—just enough to allow me to see straight—is making my head pound in a dizzying, frantic way. My senses seem to be on hyper alert; the heat of his tongue on me, his teeth skimming the sensitive skin of my nipples—it feels like he’s leaving sparks of fire in his wake. This is the most fearless I’ve ever been. A dangerous man holds my life in his hands, and I’m enjoying it. If I’m honest with myself, I’m loving it.
Zeth’s so deep inside me that it feels as if we’re one carnal creature, moving in unison, working together to reach the same finish line. That finish line is fast approaching on the horizon, too. I can feel it building, cycling around my body, growing and pulsing…until…until…
“Shit. Shit! Oh my g…fucki’mgonnacome,Zeth!”
He promised me it would feel good. It feels better than good. Forget fireworks. This feels like a nuclear fucking bomb is going off inside my head. I try to bite the scream back, but I can’t keep it in check. Since my vocal chords are being depressed, it doesn’t really matter anyway; I barely make a sound.
“Holy hell, girl. Yeah, that’s right. Keep going, keep going. Come for me, Sloane. Come hard.”
I know from the hardening I feel inside me and the strain in his voice that he’s holding himself back, but 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 I squeeze gently, working them carefully in my hand, grabbing his ass with my free hand, trying to pull him into me even deeper. I’m a hollow shell after that orgasm, weak and spent, 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 as he releases.
He holds himself up for all of a second and then collapses on top of me, breathing hard. His hands both move to his sides, away from my throat, and I take my first full lungful of oxygen in what must be at least three minutes.
And then something amazing happens.
We fall asleep.
It’s dark when I wake up. Really dark. Like middle of the night dark. I know it’s bad that I’ve slept so long even before I remember why. Where I am. Who I’m with, the amazing sex, any of it. I prop myself up on my elbow, taking a giant breath of air, trying to slow my racing heart. I’m late for something. I’m late for work. I’m really fucking late.
“Oh my god, what time is it?” Nightshifts turn you around something fierce; it’s pretty common for me to wake up once the sun’s gone down, not knowing if I’m coming or going. But then I realize I’m speaking to someone. Someone in the bed with me. That part is definitely out of the ordinary.
Zeth Mayfair is laid on his back with one arm thrown up over his face. The other arm is folded across his body, fingers splayed against his stomach, and the bed sheets are twisted around the lower half of his body in a tight knot. With all of our energetic exercise before, the fitted sheet has disappeared somewhere and I’ve been sleeping naked and coverless on bare mattress.