I shudder at the sublime stretch and when I claw at his back, his ass, his head jerks back in raw delight.
“Fuck yes. Mark me, baby. Fight me. Unleash that beautiful spirit on me.”
I still have zero clue what’s happening but fucking Zane Draven has become a high and addiction I can’t quit. AndI’ve regrettably learned that fucking him while angsty lends a sizzling edge to the act that I’m also getting addicted to.
So I bite and scratch and yank at him as he pounds my pussy, unleashing a litany of filthy words that makes me slicker. A thing he notes with smug triumph.
“That’s it, make that pretty pussy wetter for me. I need all the way inside, little girl.” And when in three thrusts, he hits my end, he grinds his pelvis hard into me, as if squeezing every last millimeter.
He keeps his hands on my hips, thumbs moving in deliberate circles. “You feel that?” he murmurs.
I swallow. “Feel what?”
“The way your body opens for me.”
I choke. “Okay, no. No poetry. Not today. We’ve had enough crazy for one morning.”
“You say crazy, I say enthusiastic,” he slurs, drunk on sex. “I’m going to give you so much cum, sweetheart. You ready?”
My back arches, desperate and anxious for him to move. “Yes, Zane. Please, I’m ready.”
“Good girl. Here it comes.”
With a series of punishing drives that tosses me over the cliff, Zane fucks into me like his life depends on it.
I scream my release three seconds before he shouts, loud and unfettered to the ceiling, pulsing repeatedly inside me as he cradles me in his arms.
We finish breathless and tangled, a mess of heat and sweat and pounding hearts, and he doesn’t give me a second before rolling us so I end up straddling him, my body still trembling with aftershocks.
He lifts his head and bites my lower lip—soft, but enough to make my breath hitch. “I love fucking you when you’re fertile. You glow, baby. And you’re so fucking ripe.” He shudders at hisown words and my mouth drops open at the ferocity of feeling unravelling through him.
I break into a sputter. “Zane, wait. What your mom said…you know it’s not…even if I was fertile, which I’m not…I’m still on the pill. You know that right?”
That seems to enrage him.
“If you’re on the fucking pill, then there’s nothing stopping us from raw-dogging it, is there?” he says.
”Hey, do I need to repeat myself?”
“About what?”
“Oh my God—Zane—I TOLD you. I’m on birth control. And we’ve been raw-dogging it for weeks.”
“I know, baby.”
God, I’m so confused because his voice is soft and dark and terrifyingly tender. “So…what’s different now?”
He shrugs. “I just like the idea of being inside you when you’re fertile. It makes everything in me settle,” he mutters as he drags his tongue over one peaked nipple.
But…something is off. In what he’s not saying. The extra untamed look in his eyes.
His eyes flick up then, and I see him visibly reining himself in. “It’s my kink. We all have them.” He presses a kiss between my breasts. “Mine is to breed you.”
My soul exits my body, files a complaint, returns, and faints.
He smirks. “So let me enjoy it, hm?”
I stare down at him.
