I’m going to make her feel it all, make her know just how much she’s taken me apart and remade me. I’d tear down walls, throw every last prayer at her feet, if that’s what it takes. Hell, I’d build her a whole damn temple and be its most devout believer, just to keep this fire burning.
“Zayan,” she gasps, a command threaded into that one word. “Don’t stop.”
Like hell I would. Stopping’s the last thing I’d do, not when she’s right here, and I’m already neck-deep in the madness of her. Every nerve, every muscle—I’d burn them out if it meant seeing her come undone like this.
“Oh, gods…” she trembles, voice breaking. “I wanted you like this… so fucking bad…”
I grin, half breathless myself, because I know. I know just how much she wanted me. I wanted her just as much.
A grin pulls at my lips, half-breathless, half-triumphant, because I already knew. I knew the whole time. And every night on that cursed schooner, lying next to her with nothing but a thin wall of tension between us, I’d find myself gripping the ropes in silence. She hated me back then. But she wanted me, too.
I could tell her that I’d see her in my dreams every night, like some haunting ghost. That her scent would follow me wherever I went, lingering, impossible to shake. But words? They’re useless now, when I know exactly where my tongue belongs.
“Zayan…” she whispers. “You’re… licking me… so well…”
I close my eyes, savoring her praise, letting it wash over me like a benediction. My hands slide up to grip her hips, holdingher steady as I press in harder, rolling my tongue against her clit with a rhythm that leaves her breath hitching to match me.
Her back arches, a low, desperate moan spilling from her lips, and I feel it in my very cock. A sound like that? Makes me lose any scrap of restraint. I want more of her, need her so bad it’s almost a curse, each twitch of my dick brushing against the fabric of my pants already painful.
I keep one hand on her calf, thumb tracing lazy circles, while the other slips down between us, just a tease, circling her entrance. I press against her entrance, slowly, feeling her tense, before pushing inside, and she gasps, head falling back, neck bared.
“Yes, Zayan,” she breathes, voice breaking like she’s barely holding on.
I curl my fingers inside, finding that spot that makes her shudder, my mouth never letting up, relentless, until her moans grow louder, raw and wild.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect…” she murmurs.
“Yeah?” I mutter, mouth never leaving her as I flick my tongue, feeling her grip my hand, hips rolling against me. “Tell me, love… just how perfect?”
I add another finger, coaxing her open, stretching her with a rhythm that has her body moving like she’s got no choice but to follow. Her hands clutch at me.
“Zayan, don’t stop—please,” she gasps, voice raw, desperate. “Don’t even think about stopping, or I’ll—“
A low growl escapes me. I will never stop and I want her to know that. She’s wrapped around me, tangled up in my hands, my mouth, my head. I’m lost in the taste of her, the feel of her body breaking under my touch, the way she says my name like it’s the only thing holding her together.
I thrust my fingers deeper, moving them just like I do my tongue—like we have all the time in the world. Her body tenses,her muscles coiling tight as a bowstring. And then breaks in my hands with a cry, her whole body surrendering to the pleasure.
She’s drenched, her release soaking my fingers, my mouth, and I take it all in, savoring every moment, every shiver. I keep going, dragging her through wave after wave, not stopping until she’s trembling, breathless, and clinging to me. Only when her grip in my hair loosens, her body finally easing, do I slow down, letting her catch her breath.
She glances down at me, eyes glazed, a lazy smirk playing at her lips. “Get up here,” she murmurs, voice low and satisfied.
I rise to my feet, my legs unsteady. Every brush of my pants against my erection is a torture, but my thumb swipes along my lips, catching the last of her taste, and I meet her gaze, letting a slow grin spread across my face.
“You’re a menace, Gypsy Flint,” I say, voice low. “And yet, I want nothing but more.”
She hooks her fingers into my belt, pulling me close and claims my mouth in a kiss that shreds the last of my restraint.
“Lose the clothes,” she whispers, breaking away, a challenge glinting in her eyes. “And get your ass on that bed.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I flash her a smile, fingers already unfastening belts and buckles, clothes hitting the floor like they’re nothing but dead weight. Her gaze follows every move, lingering here and there, and by the time I’m down to nothing, her challenge has a new edge.
My cock is rock hard and ready for her, the tip glistening in the dim light.
“Enjoying the view, are we?” I tease her, licking my lips. Her eyes narrow, and she jerks her head toward the bed, that no-nonsense glint in her gaze daring me to make another quip. I let her have the win, lying back on the bed, propped on one elbow so I can watch her.
And damn, what a sight. She’s got that lethal grace, like a predator closing in. Her fingers tug at the last clasps of her outfit, letting each piece slip to the floor with a thud.
Goosebumps trail along her skin, her nipples tight under the faint sheen of sweat that catches the light. Her hair, wild and tangled, frames her like some warrior’s crown. She’s fierce, raw, and so unapologetically glorious that my mouth goes dry.
