“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.
