“Tabby cat,” his voice was as firm as the grip on her wrist keeping her from touching him. “Don’t play with me, woman.”
“Sorry. I’m just remembering.”
The flare of his deep brown eyes, almost fully black with his blown pupils. Lines around his eyes giving away the strain of restraint.
“You have to tell me what you want to do." The raspy growl on the last word produced cascading goose bumps to emerge on her skin. The near tickling rub of his calloused thumb at her pulse point burned her deep to the core. “Notshould.” He nearly barked before she could respond.
The million-dollar fucking question.
“I—” She licked her lips. “I don’t know.”
Zac nodded. He simultaneously stepped away and released her hand. But as he turned, she called to him. Because while she had no clue what she wanted in the long run, she knew that in that moment, she’d die if he didn’t touch her again.
“Please,” she pleaded quietly. “Please touch me.”
A half second later, she was facing the wall, wrists pinned above her head, ass seated against his lap. He ground against her, sliding one large hand up her leg to toy with the strings of her little jean cutoffs.
“Fuck, tabby cat. These legs. I dream about them,” he rumbled against her neck while slipping a finger beneath the denim fabric to the edge of her panties. “Clamped around my waist, my head.”
She trembled as he inched beneath the lace and teased her seam. She squirmed, aroused and frustrated, demanding more than the idle tickles he offered. She was going to combust. Explode. Die, surely unless she got more of what she needed.
Him.
“Please. More, please.”
“Such manners,” he teased with his words as he nibbled on her earlobe. “For such a greedy woman. You want more of what, tabby cat? Are you aching for me to slide into you? Find that spot that makes you scream?”
“Yes. Please,” she whispered as he used two fingers to spread her and gently flicked at her clit. “Yesyesyes.”
“But you have to be quiet. No screaming because if you do, someone might come running. And that would spoil our fun, wouldn’t it?”
She shook her head furiously. “I can be quiet. I promise. Please, Zac.”
“I don’t believe you.” And she nearly sobbed with despair until he continued. “But let’s find out, hmm?”
Two of his long, thick fingers slid into her, filling her in what she hadn’t felt in months. Years? Tabitha couldn’t think clearly, and so she focused on the slow, steady pump of him inside of her. Felt the liquid warmth slither through her veins as she neared the edge. Her hips shifted rhythmically as she rode his hand, luxuriating in the fullness and accompanying tease of his thumb circling her clit.
“Fuck. You’re dripping for me.” Zac dragged his teeth along her neck, sucking lightly, restraining himself so as not to leave a mark. “Is it because someone could come walking by at any moment? Exit through that door over there?”
Back in the day, they’d played a lot in situations where they could have gotten caught. Hallways. Communal locker rooms. Behind a tree off the side of a trail. Tabitha enjoyed having control over her life, and she managed it masterfully. Which was probably why the risk of getting caught revved her engine so violently.
But there. In that moment, it was him.
The lust, the wetness, the wild abandon?
She shook her head and clenched around him. “It’s you.”
His ragged, guttural groan rumbled where her back pressed against his chest. And he fingered her more furiously.
“Come for me, tabby cat. I’m going to make you fucking shatter and then piece by piece put you back together.”
And she did. She came undone. Arched her back. Reached up and behind her to twine her fists in his hair and rode his fingers hard. His other hand settled on her throat, touching her pulse gently as it raged through her veins.
His strokes eased until her shuddering stopped. He slid his fingers from her and brought one to his mouth to taste her.
“Just as I remember.”
Tabitha didn’t blush—she wasn’t a blusher—but her shoulders and neck flamed with heat.
