“Tell me,” he says, arching into me.
“You make me crazy. Make me want things I can’t have, make me forget why I’m supposed to stay away.” I nip at his collarbone. “Make me want to mark you up so everyone knows you’re mine.”
“Do it,” he breathes. “Mark me. I don’t give a fuck who sees.”
I bite down on the spot where his neck and shoulder meet, hard enough to leave a bruise, and he moans. The sound goes straight through me, makes me want to hear it again.
“More,” he whispers, hands fisting in my hair. “Zane, please.”
I work my way down his body, mapping out every sensitive spot, memorizing every sound he makes. When I reach the waistband of his jeans, I look up at him.
“You sure?”
“If you stop now, I’ll kill you,” he says, and I laugh despite everything.
I strip off the last of his clothes, and then he’s naked underneath me, perfect and needy and mine for however long this lasts.
“Look at you,” I murmur, wrapping my hand around his thick cock. He’s hard, precum glistening on the swollen head, and when I stroke him, he bucks into my grip.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
“Yeah? You like that?” I twist my wrist on the upstroke, and his head falls back against the couch arm.
“God, yes. Don’t stop.”
I don’t plan to. I want to fuck him all night. I work him with my hand, harder and with more intensity. I watch his face, learning what makes him gasp and curse and beg for more. When I finally lean down and take his throbbing dick in my mouth, he nearly launches off the couch.
“Shit, Zane, your mouth. Fuck.”
I take him deeper, the tip hitting the back of my throat as I suck the underside of his cock. At first, he makes random soundsthat I can’t make out but I know it’s because I’m making it hard for him to string together words that make sense.
Hard. Pun intended.
And then, “So good, so fucking good. Your mouth is perfect. God, I’m not gonna last.”
I pull off him with an obscene pop, and his eyes fly open wide at the loss.
“Not yet,” I tell him. “I want to be inside you when you come.”
His lips curl upward. “Yes.”
I pull off my own clothes in a hot second, and then we’re both naked, both desperate, both way past the point of no return.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask, and he points toward his jeans.
“Wallet.”
I find it, rip the packet open with my teeth, and he’s watching every move like I’m putting on a show just for him.
“How do you want me?” he asks, staring up at me from his position on the couch, stroking himself. The question nearly undoes me.
“Just like this. I want to see your face when I’m inside you, making you come, knowing what only I can do to you.”
He nods, spreading his legs wider, and I settle between them. When I push one finger inside him, he’s tight and hot.
“Relax,” I tell him, working him open slowly. “Let me take care of you.”
“I’m trying.” A hiss of air slips through his lips as he tilts his hips upward, beckoning my fingers.
