The mont his mouth touches my clit, my body reacts before my mind can catch up.
A sharp breath tears out of as my knees threaten to buckle, my palms flattening against the cool surface in front of as sensation floods everywhere at once. My reflection blurs. I can’t tell if it’s the heat, the panic, or the way pleasure slams into without warning.
Zane makes a low sound against , rough and unfiltered, like he’s been holding it back all this while. His hands move with purpose, steadying , keeping right where he wants as my breathing breaks apart.
I shouldn’t want this.
I know that.
And yet my body responds like it’s been waiting.
Every nerve feels exposed, every thought fragnts. I’m aware of him everywhere at once, the way he doesn’t rush, the way he takes his ti like he knows exactly how close I already am to losing myself.
My head falls forward, forehead pressing against the glass, breath fogging the surface as I fight for control and lose it anyway.
"Zane," I gasp, not even sure what I’m asking for.
He doesn’t answer. He just moves closer, crowding my space until there’s nowhere for to go except into him. His presence is overwhelming, grounding and consuming at the sa ti, and it makes my chest ache with sothing dangerously close to relief.
Then suddenly....he stops.
The absence is cold enough to hurt.
I let out a sound I don’t recognize, half frustration, half desperation, and that’s when I hear him behind , slow and deliberate. My pulse stutters. I don’t turn around. I can’t.
"Don’t fucking move," he says quietly.
Through the reflection in the mirror I see him bring down his trousers..... then his underwear and holyyyyyy fuck!! He’s huge, I an I’ve felt him before and he did seem big but I didn’t think it was this big. I suddenly find myself wondering if he’s going to fit because it’s been a while for and I have not had that size before.
But my body obeys before I can argue with myself.
The next mont is all heat and force and inevitability. He cos back and pulls to stand, then he gently turns over and bends , giving the chance to back out or maybe tell him not to bend over but I’m too far gone to object to anythibg so I bend and arch my back for him, imdiately he confirms I’m in position he positions himself behind him and slams into in one go and suddenly I’m coming, I cry out chovking against the mirror as Zane continues to pound into . My orgasm pours through as he slides in and out of my pussy, fucking in deep hard strokes with the wet sounds of my pussy holding onto his thick mber fills the room. The world narrows to sensation, to the way he holds together as everything inside breaks loose at once. I cry out, the sound torn from sowhere deep, my body shuddering as the release hits harder than I’m prepared for.
Zane stays with through it. Doesn’t let fold in on myself.
His grip tightens, anchoring , keeping upright as the aftershocks ripple through and leave shaking, breathless, undone.
When it finally fades, I’m still bent over the table.
Still here.
And for the first ti in longer than I can rember, the mories are quiet.
Zane fucks relentlessly sending reeling, he grabs my hair pulling more into him and making my back arch more. The sound of my wet pussy, my ass eting with his abs creating that skin to skin slaps has reeling into another orgasm this ti he cos with , he sinks his teeth in my shoulder while he groans pouring his seed into .
I co back to myself slowly. My body feels heavy, used in the plainest sense of the word, clearly spent. My ears are still ringing a little, my thoughts sluggish, drifting in and out.
Zane doesn’t rush .
I register his hands first, steady at my sides, grabbing gently. Making sure I’m upright before he moves then when he lifts , it isn’t sudden. He gives ti to brace, to curl instinctively into his chest. My face presses against his shoulder, and for a second my nose catches the faint scent of soap and skin and that woody scent underneath.
He takes into our bathroom, and it doesn’t pass that I’ve started referring to this house and the things in it as mine. In the bathroom he sets on my feet near the tub but keeps one hand on my waist when my knees wobble. I don’t argue, I don’t even have the energy to.
He turns on the water and waits until the temperature is right before guiding under it. The spray hits my shoulders and I flinch, more from sensitivity than pain. He adjusts it imdiately.
Zane takes his ti.
He washes my hair carefully, fingers working through it without pulling, without rushin.
I close my eyes lost in the sensation.
The warmth loosens sothing inside my chest. My head tips forward and rests briefly against him. He doesn’t comnt on it, he just adjusts his stance so I don’t slip.
When he rinses , he makes sure there’s nothing left clinging to my skin. No lingering traces of what ca before. It feels intentional.
He then wraps a towel around and pats dry instead of rubbing, careful around my arms when I wince. My limbs feel loose, like they belong to soone else. He helps step out of the tub and steers back into the bedroom without saying a word.
The bed looks impossibly inviting.
He settles into it, pulls the covers up around my shoulders, tucks them in just enough so I don’t feel exposed. I barely have ti to adjust before sleep starts dragging under.
Zane sits on the edge of the bed for a mont. I feel the dip of the mattress. A hand brushes my hair back from my face, light, almost hesitant.
"Sleep, my little spitfire." he says quietly
The last thing I register is the weight of the blanket and the steady calm of the room around . Then everything goes dark, fast and deep, the kind of sleep that doesn’t give you dreams just blissful sleep.
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