And then there’s the third part of me—the unhinged, hormonal, traitor part—standing there fanning herself because the vulnerability?
Combined with the feral rockstar energy?
Combined with the fact that he trustsmewith this?
Yeah. That part is ready to climb him like he’s a tree in need of pruning.
I suck in a breath, swallowing the cocktail of panic, pity, desire, and “wow, I’m catastrophically unequipped for this” swirling inside me.
He’s looking at me like I’m the answer to all his storm-episodes and childhood nightmares. And I’m… I’m just me.
Oregon-born, Coldplay-loving, thick-thighed barista me.
I shouldn’t matter this much. I shouldn’t crack him open like this.
But God help me, the weight of being the calm in his chaos, it does something to me I don’t have a name for yet.
He strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Don’t worry,” he says softly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Which…is not what I said. At all.
Feeling.
Pressure.
Fear.
Sex.
Zane seems to sense the direction my thoughts are spiraling, because he leans in, lips brushing mine, voice a husky wreck. “You know something? I’m kinda glad it’s out in the open. We’regonna fuck now. I need inside that wet tight cunt more than I want my next breath, baby. But we can talk after if you want.” He kisses me once, slow. “Or during.” A second kiss, deeper. “Or…never.”
I melt.
“Zane,” I whisper. “Sex isn’t going to solve?—”
He cuts me off by kissing me like he’s swallowing the words out of my mouth. “Let’s find out,” he murmurs against my lips. “Come ride me.”
I freeze and his eyes go black around the edges.
“Ride. Me.”
I should refuse. Ishould. But my bones liquefy and my body answers before my brain catches up. He’s still sweaty from the show but that turns me on even harder.
I climb onto his lap in the chair by the window, straddling him, my hands braced on his shoulders, his grip bruising my hips in the most perfect, relentless way. He groans into my neck, low and wrecked, muttering filth that makes my entire soul throb.
I move, slow at first, taking his thick cock inch by sublime inch. The glide of hot skin to skin is intense and beautiful and I moan long and deep. Take him deeper. Then harder. Rocking my figure eights faster.
Zane goes completely silent. Except for his breath hitching, catching, breaking. Except for his fevered eyes devouring my bouncing tits.
And then it hits me.
I’m humming.
I don’t even know when it started…just a soft, unconscious sound from my chest, rising with every movement.
Zane’s head falls back. “Oh—oh fuck, Ruby?—”
His hands clasp the backs of my thighs, dragging me closer, guiding me on and off his cock in an urgency, like he’s losing the ability to breathe without it.
