Without warning, he dips his head, mouth closing over my nipple, sucking hard.
My mind, usually a latticework of logic and control, disintegrates. The only thing real is the hot pull of his mouth and the flash of his teeth as he grazes the sensitive skin around my areola.
Zach alternates between soft, fluttering licks and rough, insistent sucks, never settling into a pattern. His hand kneads the fullness of my breast while the other maps the slope of my waist, memorizing the line where it dips in, the sharpness of my hipbone.
When he releases my nipple with a wet pop, he looks up—not at my face, but at the mark his mouth has left. He smiles, almost proudly, before lavishing the same attention on the other side, tugging gently with his teeth, lapping at the raw peak until I whimper.
I try my best to stifle the sounds crawling up my throat, but each whine and gasp only makes Zach more desperate. He shifts, pressing my back into the mattress, his own body a barrier, caging me in.
I can feel the hard line of his erection even through his sweatpants, pressed firmly against my thigh.
Instinctively, I grind against it, seeking friction, my hands clawing at his shoulders, his arms—anything that gives meleverage. The world shrinks to the frantic rhythm of our bodies; even the air seems electrified, vibrating with hunger.
"Fuck, Caroline," he groans, voice muffled against my breast. "You drive me crazy. I can't get enough of you."
Zach captures my mouth again, kissing me hard and hungry as his hand trails down my waist and slips inside my pink cotton sleep shorts.
His fingers cup me over my lace panties, and I feel his lips curve into a smirk against my mouth.
"Baby," he whispers against my lips. "You're absolutely soaked for me."
He circles my nipple once more with his tongue before kissing a line between my breasts, down my sternum, then nipping softly at the skin just above my navel.
I nearly sob at the loss of contact when he pulls away, but Zach only lowers himself to his knees, hands gripping my hips for dear life.
He tugs my sleep shorts down slowly, as if savoring the anticipation—first exposing the smooth skin of my belly, then the narrow strip of lace panties beneath.
He pauses, looks up at me, and waits, the question in his eyes clear:May I?
My hands tremble as I brush his hair back from his forehead.
"Please," I tell him again, this time barely a whisper. "I want you."
He hooks his thumbs in the waistband and drags both shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, letting them pool around my ankles before lifting each foot gently to free me from the fabric. The tips of his fingers trace a lazy pattern along the curve of my thigh, then inch upward.
My pulse batters at my throat, my eyes glued to his as he leans in, inhaling deeply at my heat.
He presses a reverent kiss against my inner thigh, lips soft and patient. Then another, higher still. When his mouth finally reaches my center, his tongue flicks out—testing, teasing.
The first touch sends a shockwave through me, hips bucking involuntarily, my fingers clutching desperately at the sheets to anchor myself.
Zach laughs softly, the vibration of it humming against me, and then he sets to work in earnest—the slow, circular motion of his tongue, the gentle scraping of his teeth, the relentless pressure of his lips.
My composure vanishes.
I moan shamelessly, my fingers tightening in his hair, my entire body focused on the pleasure he's building inside me. I've never felt so exposed, so entirely under someone's control—and yet, the consent is mine at every turn, his every movement a question, my every reaction an answer.
Zach's eyes meet mine, dark with desire but impossibly gentle. "I'll be gentle," he promises, his voice a reverent whisper.
"Tell me if it's too much."
When he eases a finger inside me—my first time feeling anyone but myself—the newness of the sensation steals my breath. He watches my face as he curls his finger just so, finding a spot I never knew existed.
As he carefully adds a second digit, a strangled sound escapes my throat.
My eyes flutter closed as his fingers work their magic, each thrust sending electric currents through my trembling body.
I bite down on my lower lip to keep from crying out, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as I hover at the precipice of something I've only ever imagined.
