The words hit lower than they should. In the place where every stupid, loyal part of me still wants him. I open my mouth to throw something back at him, sharp enough to make him bleed and grin at the same time, but his mouth drops before I can speak.
He kisses my clit.
Softly.
Too softly.
A slow, filthy little press of his lips that makes my whole body jolt off the mattress.
“Fuck.” The word tears out of me.
He groans against me as if the sound does something to him, and then his tongue follows, sliding over the same spot his mouth just kissed.
My head falls back. The ceiling blurs.
Zane’s hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider and holding me open beneath. His fingers press into my skin. His tongue flicks over my clit again and my hips lift before I can stop them.
The smug bastard laughs against my pussy and the vibration sends sparks of pleasure through me.
His tongue flicks my clit in maddening strokes, pressure building with every pass. He doesn’t rush or give me the hard, fast relief I’m begging for. He licks through my wetness, then back up, dragging every nerve awake until I am shaking beneath him. My fingers twist in the sheet, then slide into his hair because I need something to hold on to. He makes a low sound when I tug.
That sound.
God. It goes straight through me.
His mouth works over me, hot and filthy, tongue flicking, lips sucking, the pressure shifting every time I think I have found the rhythm. He reads me too well. The hitch in my breath. The way my thighs tense. He notices it all and uses it against me.
“You taste so fucking good,” he says against me. “I thought about my mouth on your pussy until my cock was hard enough to fucking hurt.”
“Zane.”
“I know,” he says, and kisses me there again. “Filthy bastard.”
He then sucks my clit into his mouth.
My head falls back hard against the pillow and my thighs clamp around his shoulders.
He holds me open anyway, hands firm, mouth relentless. Pleasure rushes through me in a hot, brutal wave, and I am gone.Reduced to nothing but breath, heat, his name, and the obscene sound of his mouth between my legs.
He eats me as if he has been waiting years to get back between my thighs and has no intention of wasting the chance. His tongue slides through me, into me, then back to my clit until my whole body is trembling. The sight of him like that—the bad boy Zane Rivera on his knees for me—nearly finishes me.
His eyes stay locked on mine and that’s the hottest part. He watches every gasp, every flinch, every moment when I try to hold myself together and fail.
Then he slides one finger inside me and my back bows.
“Fuck… Zane.”
His eyes flash. “There it is. My name, the way I remember it.”
He adds another finger stretching me while his tongue circles my clit. The pressure hits somewhere deep and perfect.
A moan tears out of me.
The build starts low.
A tightening.
A pulse.
