Page 104 of Offside Devil

I fumble with the button of his jeans and he helps me shove them down his hips. I saw the outline of him in the shower this morning, but nothing prepares me for the weight of him in my palm.

We both freeze, stuttering out ragged breaths while I stroke him slowly from root allllll the way to the very tip.

“You’re big everywhere.” I swallow, nerves and excitement fluttering in my stomach. “Noted.”

“You can take it,” he rasps.

Like he wants to prove it, he hooks a finger into me. It’s a slow, consistent press, and I don’t breathe until he’s all the way inside of me. Then he curls his finger against nerve endings I didn’t know I had and all the air in my body rushes out.

When he slides a second finger into me, the world stops turning. I want to keep touching him and act like I have mind-blowing, world-shattering sex all the time, but I’m losing control of my limbs. My lungs. My heart.

My entire self is in Zane’s very large hands.

“I’ve touched myself enough for both of us the last two weeks.” He pulls my hand away, wrapping my arm loosely around his neck. “There’s only one thing I want.”

He works his fingers into me again and again, stretching me until he can add a third.

I’m panting, balancing on the edge of oblivion, when he strokes his thumb over my clit.

It’s like a bomb detonates inside of me.

I throw my head back, a strangled cry tearing out of my throat. My legs clamp down around his hips as he chases my orgasm with his fingers, drawing it out until I’m a sweating, whimpering puddle against his chest.

“Oh my God,” I gasp, kissing his chest through his shirt. “That was the best sex of my entire life and we still have our clothes on.”

He slides his fingers out of me and brings them to his mouth. With his eyes locked on mine, he licks them clean one by one.

It’s so hot my vision is going fuzzy around the edges.

“You taste exactly as good as you smell,” he growls. Then he grabs the hem of his shirt. “Now, about our clothes…”

He tugs his shirt over his head and I fight with my dress, desperate to be free of it.

I’m still pulsing with my release, but I want more.

Maybe I’ll never have enough.

It’s a terrifying thought, since I have no idea how much of Zane I get to have. I don’t know why he’s doing this or what it means to him.

But when I finally throw my dress on the floor and Zane looks at me—all of me—I shove my doubts to the backseat and tell them to buckle the fuck up.

His jaw flexes like he’s angry. Like the sight of me naked on the counter is infuriating to him.

“Why don’t you have a bra on?” he huffs.

My nipples are hard, desperate points. I cup my breasts with my hands like maybe I should cover up. “I don’t wear a bra with a lot of my dresses. The straps are so thin that they?—”

“Fuck.” He rips my hands away and replaces them with his own. “You’re really trying to kill me. How in the hell am I supposed to get anything done now that I know that?”

“Would it help if I told you that you aren’t alone? I’ve been touching myself to the thought of you, too.”

He drops his head to my shoulder and groans. “No, Mira. It really doesn’t help. At all.”

He’s still playing with my breasts, weighing them in his hands and circling his thumbs over my nipples. It feels way too familiar for how long we’ve known each other.

It shouldn’t be like this.

We’re supposed to be fumbling and unsure. He’s supposed to ask me a million times, “Is this good?”

---