He nudged in a little more, parting my folds with the thick head of his cock.
“Then you’d better justdo it.”
Any other man would’ve asked if I was sure or deviated from the fantasy to make sure he was understanding me correctly. Not Zane. A lot of things were broken between us, but not this. The sexual trust between us was unshakeable.
He thrust into me long and deep, groaning deliciously. “Shit, that feels good…”
It did feel good. It felt so good it made me mad, so I snapped at him, “Thought you weren’t going to fuck me until I got on my knees and begged…”
He clamped a hand over my mouth and I whimpered at how sexy it was.
“This isn’t for you,” he said roughly, but it sure felt like it was. This was what no one else had ever given me—unapologetic, primal sex where he made me feel vulnerable and overpowered, but still somehow powerful because I could drive a man like this to the edge of his control and still stop him with only a word.
He fucked me hard and fast, using me like a fuckdoll for his own pleasure and I might’ve lost all dignity and begged if he’d stopped. He put his hand on my lower back again like he was holding me in place as he pounded even faster, groaned, and came inside me.
I didn’t come, but some things were worth dozens of orgasms later even if I didn’t get to have one in the moment. To truly fulfill my fantasies of being used, sometimes it had to be about his pleasure.
He pulled out and let me up. “Go brush your teeth, take this off, and come to bed.”
“I’m not interested in—”
“I didn’t fucking ask, Maia. I’m tired. You have to be tired too. You won’t sleep through there on your own. If you hurry the fuck up and get back through here before I fall asleep, I’d planned to make you come first, but I’m losing patience.”
I might’ve argued, but he went back into the bathroom and seconds later I heard an electric toothbrush turn on. So I did the only reasonable thing, given how right he was about being tired, and got ready for bed.
* * *
* * *
* * *
After he madegood on his promise to get me off, Zane lay with his body wrapped around mine, the same position he’d always held me in.
“I’m sorry,” he grumbled. “Starting another tour is…a lot. I took that out on you today and I shouldn’t have.”
Shit.
Being mad at him made it easier to hold a barrier between us for the sake of self-preservation. Empathizing with him made it impossible to ignore how much he was shouldering and what it was costing him.
“Apology accepted,” I said, hesitating before adding, “I’ve been taking some shit out on you too, being a brat. I’ve been focusing my anger at you when most of what I’m upset about isn’t your fault.”
He huffed against my hair. “Nothing I can’t handle. For what it’s worth? I didn’t think you’d know the song was about you.”
Was he joking? “How could I possibly not have known?”
“Seeing you turn that guy down…it brought out memories of the hurt kid in me. This is sad and I’m only admitting it because you deserve to know, but I didn’t even think it really was about you when I wrote it. It was me as a kid talking to a fictional version of you who only existed in my head, one who missed what we had.”
My heart raced nervously. “What made you so sure the real me didn’t?”
He sighed. “Nine years, Maia. If you miss something bad enough, nine years is more than enough time to pick up the phone.”
He sounded so tired, so over it all. Would it even be fair to tell him the truth now?
How many times had I almost called him, then reminded myself why I’d left? Then years had gone by and it would’ve felt wrong to go crawling back once he was famous.
I set him free and he achieved everything he deserved.
His breathing slowed and his body relaxed. He must’ve been exhausted, and I hoped he would manage to sleep through the night this time.
