They were nothing.
Mine and Zion’s names were the only ones she was allowed to chant, to use in a plea, to cry out.
“Pre-Pretty birdie,” Zion stammered, holding on to the couch’s seat as my hips smacked into his.
Again and again. Hard enough to rock him, to snatch the ground from underneath him, but controlled to avoid hurting him. The knowledge he bore burn scars on his left forearm because of me held me at bay.
After that cursed night, I had made an oath to myself to always look after him. To think before acting. To make him my priority.
Which was why I could live out eternity linked to him like this—our bodies joined but fraying at the seams as we climbed the cliff, higher and higher.
My thumbnail scraped down Zion’s stubble. “She’s going to get off merely from witnessing me destroy you.”
Holding his head up, I paid no heed to the heat slithering up my thighs and focused on how Kali bowed, how she struggled to keep her eyes open, how her lips parted on a silent scream?—
She became a statue, still, unmoving—stuck in time. But then she plummeted, and a convulsion shook her like an earthquake.
Zion moved backward to match my next thrust, testing my self-restraint.
Releasing his jaw, I switched the angle, feeding him my cock in such a way it hit him just right. He contracted around me, coaxing dark spots to pepper my peripherals.
“I can’t—” His back rippled from the tension. “Take—” He groaned into the cushion. “This.”
“A little bit more.” I threw my head back, staring at a crumb of white ceiling paint right above me, trying to memorize its details to push away the precipice taunting me. “Just hold on.”
“I—” The suede fabric smothered his frustration. He glared at me over his shoulder. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
My rhythm faltered. If I was certain of anything in my life, it was doing everything to ensure his well-being. Even if it meant not letting loose.
“I’m asking you to hurt me.” Zion caught my hand resting on his hip. “Punish me. Please. I’m begging you.”
His voice… An incantation that broke me.
Isnapped.
Grabbing his nape, I raised him upright, spun us around, and shoved him into the ebony bookshelves. “Is this what you want?”
He clutched the vertical boards to avoid smashing his face into the same-height books. “Yes,” he croaked, his confirmation floating out on another grunt as I positioned myself against his rim.
“Good.” I buried myself inside him in one vicious thrust. “Because I won’t be nice anymore.” Wrapping an arm around his midriff, I pulled him a step back. “Hold on,” I warned, and after a few experimental strokes, set a brutal pace.
Not too fast, not too slow, but deep and vicious, rubbing the rubbery spot that made his knees quiver.
If he wanted me to fuck him senseless, I was going to.
No more than thirty seconds passed before I held a shaking mess and not a person. Relentless in my advance, I admired how his thighs spasmed with each thrust.
To top it off, all it took was me gripping his dick for him to experience a full-body shudder.
He rested his forehead against a dark wood shelf, the edge surely digging into his flesh. “Gedeon.”
I twisted and squeezed his tip, my thumb brushing along the slit. “Zion,” I taunted him.
He was so malleable—like dough. A sweet goodness baked solely for me.
His ass pushed into me. “I’m going to come.”
“Go ahead.” Using the moisture leaking from him, I stroked his shaft. “Paint my hand white.”
