Luckily he doesn't stay apart from me for long. He scoops me up into his arms and carries me through the apartment, toward his bedroom. It's a different layout than mine, I notice, a little larger, more open-plan. I like it. And he's decorated it well too, not like the typical bachelor pad. It's all modern designs and simple, tasteful furniture.
Then I forget about the apartment, because he's setting me down on the bed and curling in beside me, and I'm lost in his kiss again.
A few minutes later, we lie side-by-side on our backs, staring up at his ceiling, still breathless, our bodies slick with sweat, sticking together.
"Bet you never expected your doorman could do that," Zayne says, a little smirk dancing across his lips.
I lean in to kiss the corner of that smirk. "I knew he was good at fighting off bad guys," I say. "I had no idea he was such a naughty guy himself."
"Only when inspired," he replies, and I laugh, remembering our conversation in the café earlier.
"So what else inspires you?" I ask, settling into his arms.
"Music mostly," he replies. "If we're talking that kind of inspiration."
"What type?"
"Indie bands, classic rock … Little bit of everything really. It's the best part of my day sometimes, just heading into the stock room to get everything ready, listening to the perfect playlist."
"Make me one sometime?" I ask, and then feel my cheeks flush. Was that weird to ask? Is this just a hookup, can we do things like make each other playlists?
But Zayne is already nodding, his eyes bright with ideas. "Definitely. I know what to put on it already."
"You do?"
He tightens his arms around me. "I thought of the perfect song the moment I met you."
I laugh. But he doesn't. I turn in his arms to meet his eye. "Really?"
"Sometimes people just do that. People who really click with me. It makes a song come into my head, and I want to share it with them … "
"Can you play it for me?"
He reaches across me for his phone. For a moment, I regret the lack of warmth where his arm had been a moment before. But then he's back, phone in hand, and I snuggle into his side as he cues up the music.
I've never heard the song before. Don't recognize the band either, but I love the rhythm. It's an acoustic guitar, and a soulful singer, singing about a girl he once met, but never knew her name. It's sweet and sad all at once, and as I curl up against his side and listen to the lyrics, my head fills with a pleasant buzz. This feels right. Zayne feels right. I don't know how to describe it.
When we finally drift off an hour later, my body curled up to his wrapped around me, arms around my waist, cradling me against him, I have one last thought before I drop off into sleep.
Uh oh.
5
I wake up the next morning, and for a moment, I'm disoriented. This looks like my apartment. Sounds like my apartment. There's the same distant blare of traffic and the same slant of sunlight through the standard-issue blinds. But the bed feels softer beneath me than I'm used to. And I'm warmer than I'm used to, too. Mostly because there's a very warm body curled against mine, and a strong arm wrapped protectively around my waist.
I shift a little and feel something else press against me. A hard, thick cock prodding my ass.
Then I remember last night. Everything from the coffee date all the way to our wild session on the couch. I smile and turn my head to peek over my shoulder.
Zayne blinks at me, sleepy, still waking up. But he probably has the same idea that I do, because a moment later, he shifts his hips against mine, and his cock digs harder against my ass.
"Good morning, sexy," he murmurs.
"Morning, hot stuff." I grin. He kisses me softly and I smile into it. Then I wriggle my ass, let it grind against his cock.
"Still thirsty, I see," he comments when we break apart. I laugh. But he doesn't. He pushes gently against my upper back, bending me forward into a tighter curl. "Be careful what you wish for, naughty girl."
"What if I'm wishing for you to punish me, though?" I ask, and bat my lashes just a little.
"Hmm..." He hums a little under his breath as he traces his hands over my back, down my spine to cup my ass on either side of his cock. He spreads my cheeks and lets his cock slide between them, along my slit. Then he runs his hands back up my back, massaging lightly. "Then I'd have to say, be careful what you wish for," he finally says.
I feel the bed shift as he turns to reach for the nightstand. I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper, and for a moment, his cock leaves my backside as he slips it on.
Then he's back, hands sliding around to my front now. He massages my breasts, one at a time, taking his time, kneading them hard before he pinches each nipple, rolling it between his fingers until they're hard. He pinches my right nipple harder, enough to make me gasp, and then he grins and kisses the back of my neck.
"Was this what you had in mind?" he murmurs against my skin. "Me punishing you, taking what I want from your body..."
"It's yours," I whisper. "Do with me what you wish."
"Oh, Clove." His hands slide down the flat plane of my stomach to my mound. Flattens against it, and his forefinger grazes my clit. "I plan to."
He strokes my clit slowly, lightly. At first it feels nice, but as the pressure builds, that light touch becomes torturous. I thrust against him, but he pins me down, his arm heavy on my hipbone.
"Ah, ah. This is my pussy. I'm in charge, naughty girl."
I swallow hard. Those words send a pulse of desire straight to my belly. "Yes."
"And what I want right now..." he says as he keeps stroking me lightly, faintly, "is to fuck you senseless."
With that, he thrusts his cock into my pussy, hard and without warning. I gasp and buck against the sheets. He plunges deep inside me, and my pussy is tight with surprise. But I'm already wet from his touches, his slow strokes, and he slides all the way inside me without resistance, stretching my muscles, making me ache.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk downstairs," he whispers, and my pussy pulses around his cock, another spike of desire heating me up.
"You like that, I see." He pulls out of me. Thrusts in again, harder. "You're such a dirty little slut. I love it."
He keeps it up like that, fucking me, then slowing down to tease me, stroking my clit alternately whenever he pauses. It's not long before I feel desperate, crazed with desire. I try to thrust against him, but he spanks my ass once, hard enough to sting. Then he keeps fucking me, hard but slow, driving me wild.
Finally, just when I feel like I'm going to lose it, going to go crazy from the urge to truly fuck him, he grabs my hips and starts to fuck me in earnest. It feels so good after all the teasing that I cry out. That shifts into a low, throaty moan as he keeps fucking me, his cock spearing me with every thrust, thick and tight inside my pussy.
He bends me in half, fucks me so hard that I lose track of anything but his body against mine, his cock in me, my hands fisted in the sheets. When I finally come, he's right there with me, both of us crying out with pleasure at the same time as we finish.
He pulls out, still breathing hard, and rolls onto his back cursing under his breath.
"You are positively addictive, Clove Walker."
"I could say the same about you, Zayne Pearson."
We move to the shower, ostensibly to clean off. We are covered in sweat, after all. Among other things. But he insists on washing me, and when he lathers up his palms with soap and runs those rough, strong hands over my body, slowly, head to toe, I can't help it. The fire starts to build in my belly again, this lust, insatiable, impossible to please.
Finally, when it feels like too much, I spin to face him, half-covered in soap that he's massaged into my body.
"Let me suck your cock again. Please."
He half-laughs, eyes hooded and dark with amusement. "Who am I to deny a lady what she wants?"
He steps back, and I kneel before him in the shower. Let the hot water run over my back and shoulders, rinsing me off even as I part my lips and suck his cock into my mouth.
He tastes just as good as I remember. And this time, when I build up a pace, sucking him in and out of my mouth until he starts to thrust into my throat, losing control, he doesn't stop me. He throat-fucks me, slams his hips into my face, the tip of his cock sliding down my throat with every thrust, until he's gritting his teeth and groaning loudly.
I keep going, my hands wrapped around his balls, tugging at them, toying with them as I suck him into my mouth. He fucks my face, slams against me, and I relax, opening myself to him fully. I let him take control and fuck me how he wants, until he's right at the brink.
"Swallow my cum," he groans, just before it hits him. When he comes, I tighten my lips around him and press my tongue along his length. He comes hard, deep in my throat, and I swallow it all, savoring the taste, the particular, unique flavor that's all him. I keep going, keep sucking until he moans my name, and only then do I lean back to lick his cock clean, slowly, an inch at a time.