“Not this morning,” he whispers, grinding himself against me. “Open your eyes.”
I do. The tone of his voice is intense, full of some hidden message I’m not sure I understand. When I look into his eyes, I see what’s there, though—he loves me. He fucking loves me, and I’ve been grumbling, absorbed with how terrible I feel. My worsening condition doesn’t seem that important anymore. I’m intrigued by what he has in store for me. “Oh really?”
“Mmmm.” His lips vibrate against my skin as he hums. “You want to try something different?”
“How different?” I peer up at him, wondering at the fierce look on his face.
“Well…” He almost looks like he’s about to smile. No matter how crappy I’m feeling, my heart swells in my chest at the sight of his lips lifting at either side of his mouth. It’s the most amazing thing. It’s addicting. He dips his head and lightly rubs his nose against the bridge of my own. “How about you let me show you?”
“Okay.” I whisper the word, half expecting to be caught up in a whirlwind of movement and tension and Zeth less than a second later, but that’s not what happens. Instead, Zeth lets his weight down on top of me so he can take my face in his hands. He kisses me, deep and intense, his mouth working against mine in a slow, passionate rhythm that makes my bones feel like lead weights inside my body, making me heavy. Drunk. Dizzy.
The way I feel could be attributed to the fact that I’m coming down with something, but then again it really doesn’t feel that way. It’s that desperate, adoring, all-powerful, all-consuming fire that I’ve never experienced myself but I’ve read about. This is what being in love is. This is what falling even more deeply in love is, with each and every passing second.
Cities could burn and the world could be ending, crashing down around my ears, and I wouldn’t trade this feeling or this man to save a single soul. I just wouldn’t be able to.
His hands move over my body slowly, curiously, like he’s never touched me before. We’ve had sex so many times now, but it’s never been mechanical or rote. Every single inch of my skin has been explored and marked, claimed as his own, and yet when he touches me now it’s as though he’s still in wonder of me. Still completely obsessed with the texture and softness of my curves.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Sloane,” he whispers into my hair. I feel like I’ve been drugged. When he slides his hands down over me and in between my legs, my breathing has quickened, right alongside my heart rate. He makes me feel incredible. “Close your eyes, Sloane,” he whispers. His voice is thick with the fire that’s burning up within his own body. I don’t really want to close my eyes—watching him like this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced—but then again, falling into myself, letting him own me, sinking into the pleasure of his naked body against mine is amazing in its own right.
His fingers work over my clit, teasing me, driving me crazy. I’m completely absorbed in the sensation, wanting to beg him, plead with him for more, but there’s no rushing this man. He’ll give me what he wants to give me and when. And besides, the pure torture of it is delicious.
Zeth gathers my right wrist in his free hand, and then the left, lifting both up over my head. He slides off me to one side so he doesn’t crush me, and then he pushes my legs apart, opening me to him. I don’t fight against him. My legs fall open, and then he has access to all of me. He makes good use of that access, his fingers tracing up and down over my pussy, setting me on fire as he teases my clit, gently dipping his index finger inside me, and then moving further down to lightly stroke an area of my body I never thought I’d allow anyone to touch. Ever.
With him, there are no taboos, though. No area of me off limits. No part of me I’ll ever deny to him. Especially when he makes me feel this good.
“You gonna come for me, angry girl?” he says into my ear. He’s breathless; I can feel his heart thumping in his chest, where his skin is pressed up against me.
“Yes.”
“You want to come hard?”
“Yes.”
“I want to feel you all over my fingers, okay? I want to know exactly when you’re about to explode.”
“Oh my god. Fuck, oh my god.” But he is my god. He’s the sun and I’m the earth, orbiting him always, unable to escape his gravity. Unwilling to try.
“Come for me, Sloane. Come on. Do it.”
I’ve never been able to hold back with him. I have this overwhelming need to do what he wants me to, despite how much I fought against that idea when we first met. And right now, he wants me to come. He makes this pretty damn easy for me when he slides his fingers all the way inside, twisting them toward him and making a beckoning motion that tips me right over the edge.