She tightens her grip, close enough that her lips hover over mine, her fingers just skimming beneath my shirt. “Maybe I just need the right captain to keep me in line,” I murmur, my voice a rough edge, nearly breaking from the restraint it takes not to close the distance between us.
She laughs, low and wicked, lips barely brushing the corner of my mouth. “I’ve imagined it, you know… commanding you like this.” Her hand drifts down, fingers teasing along my chest. “For once, with you giving up the fight.”
Fuck, she’s impossible.
My hand slips to her waist, fingers digging in, needing to feel the firmness of her under my grasp, to anchor myself.
“Do it then,” I exhale. “Tell me what you want.”
Her fingers slide lower, tracing just over my pants, and I feel my restraint slip another notch. She tilts her head, breath feathering against my cheek, and my lips find her jaw, trailing down to her neck, tasting the salt on her skin.
I’d taste her forever if I could. I’d make her dance on my tongue until she’s shaking just as much as I am. Then, I’d draw the moment out and stretch it. All, just to see how every last ounce of that fire in her eyes is burning just for me alone.
“I’m feeling… sentimental,” she whispers finally, and my hand tightens on her waist. “Remember the first time? On Medusa’s Gaze?”
The memory hits hard—her shallow breaths against my lips, the tension of sneaking away, the bite of knowing any second we could get caught. I don’t bother with words. Instead, I dropto my knees, my gaze locked on hers as her hands slide into my hair.
I’ll give her exactly what she needs.
“Look at you,” she murmurs. Her fingers tighten in my hair, enough to sting. “So eager… and so damn obedient.”
A rough laugh escapes me, hands sliding up her calves, slow, deliberate. “Only for you,” I murmur, daring to let my fingers drift higher, waiting for the invitation I know is coming.
Her lips curve in that dangerous way of hers. “Do you remember how I wanted it back then?” Her voice is a soft rasp that sends a shiver through me.
“Oh, I remember,” I reply, voice thick. “You wanted it slow… my tongue flat against you.”
I was reckless back then. Sneaking onto the Serpents’ ship for the thrill. Nearly gave myself away too—my dagger slipped, and she caught it before it clattered to the floor. She could have sounded the alarm, called her crew. But she didn’t. Instead, she gave me an ultimatum: her orgasm for my life. And I’d taken the deal without a second thought.
Her hand guides me now, just like that night, and I follow, pressing my lips to the inside of her thigh, feeling the warmth of her through her clothes. She sighs, soft and breathy, just enough to drive me wild.
“Slow,” she breathes, echoing that first night. “Just like back then.”
So I do just what she asks. I trail my lips deliberately up her thigh, savoring each inch as her body responds, her breaths growing more uneven. Reaching the waistband of her breeches, I take the fabric between my teeth and pull, sliding the other side with the help of my hands.
I want her to feel it, to see it in my eyes. I’m here for her, with her, every inch. Whatever pace she wants, I’ll match it. Herpupils are blown, her eyes darker than night. She looks beautiful standing above me.
“Mmm,” she murmurs, licking her lips. “Look into my eyes, just like that. You look so pretty on your knees.”
A smirk tugs at my mouth. For someone who hates showing weakness, she sure revels in bringing it out of me. My fingers hook around her breeches, pulling them down slow enough to drive her mad. I tilt my head up, still watching her.
“But you’ll let me look at your pussy, won’t you? I’m a man starving here, love.”
Her cheeks flush, lashes flickering just enough to tell me she’s teetering on the edge. She nods, barely there, but it’s all I need. My eyes drink her in—paler skin than on the rest of her body, soft mound of flesh shaped in a luscious V, and swollen pussy that already glistens from her arousal.
Fucking breathtaking.
Gypsy’s fingers tighten in my hair, demanding I get closer. Like I’d hesitate.
I take my time, starting at the inside of her thigh, tasting her skin, letting the heat build with each inch closer. She’s addictive, the kind of pull that makes a man feel invincible. My tongue traces higher, and her breathing shifts, each little gasp fueling me to push her just a bit more.
She wants control—wants me to take my time. Fine. I can do patience, but only just. The urge to devour her is so sharp it’s a miracle I don’t.
Her hips tilt, guiding me up, and I finally settle between her thighs, pressing my tongue flat against her clit. I move it just so, letting my tongue drag over her in a way I know she likes—from the top, to the very bottom, gathering every single bit of wetness and drinking it in.
Every flick, every swirl is calculated, each sound she makes pulling me deeper into this damn madness she’s got me in.When she moans my name, soft and breathy, it’s like a shot of rum to the gut, and I almost lose it right there.
“Zayan,” she breathes, and that’s it—that’s the fuel. My name on her lips, her body shivering under my touch.
