Page 107 of Offside Angel

He’s barely touched me, but I’m deranged. I’m trembling with how much I need him.

I throw my arms out to my sides. Cups tip over and my fist lands in something solid, but Zane’s lips are on me now and nothing else matters.

“There,” I moan, hooking a leg over his shoulder. I slide my hand through his hair, holding him where I want him, arching my hips against his mouth. “Oh, God, right there.”

He hums against me, working his tongue faster, tasting me like his grip on control is slipping as fast as mine.

My hand closes in his hair, pulling tight—too tight. He growls and tosses my hand to the side. It lands in something solid again, but my body is on fire. I feel like I’m coming out of my own skin. I stroke my hands over my chest to keep myself together, massaging to the pace of Zane’s mouth.

“Touch yourself. Don’t stop,” he orders, but I already am. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.

Some primal snarl rips out of Zane’s chest and he lifts my thighs, holding me open so he can bury his tongue inside of me.

And I collapse like a dying star.

Bright white burns behind my eyes as my body pulses again and again. Zane keeps going, following my cues. As I’m coming down, he coaxes me back to reality with soft kisses.

When the last of it ebbs away, I slump to the counter, breathless.

Zane starts making his way over me again. He drags his tongue over my stomach and around my breast. I open my eyes and see a clump of white in his hair.

“What is—” I work my hand through it, rubbing the cream between my fingers. “Is that frosting?”

He lifts his face and his tongue is out, a dollop of frosting on the tip. He swallows, his throat bobbing beautifully. “I think we ruined our wedding cake.”

I look over and see what my hand kept hitting. The bottom tier of our chai cake with vanilla cream cheese frosting is perfect—except for a deep gash in the side closest to us. It looks like a bear mauled it. There are actual claw marks.

Whoops.

Zane follows the trail of frosting I unknowingly left across my stomach and over my breasts. He straddles me on the counter, eating and tasting until I’m pulsing again.

“I want some.”

He swirls his finger in the mess at the hollow of my throat and holds out some frosting, but I shake my head.

I reach for the cake, swipe my hand through the frosting, and then dip between our bodies. Zane frowns until my hand slides into his pants. Until I stroke frosting over him from base to tip.

We clumsily switch positions, and he hisses when his back hits the cold marble.

“You’re not so fragile,” I tease, arching a brow. “You can take it.”

He grins and dips a frosting-covered thumb between my lips. “My cruel wife.”

His pants are covered in frosting and spilled champagne, so they stick to his skin when I peel them over his hips. Zane kicks them off the rest of the way while I fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

He took his time with me, but I don’t have nearly the self-control my husband does. The second Zane is bare beneath me, I plant my hands on his thighs and take him in my mouth.

“Fuck.” He loops my hair around his fist, holding lightly as I move over him.

I swirl my tongue over the frosting at his tip, and Zane breathes my name. He thrusts into my mouth like he can’t help himself, his lips moving around broken phrases and words I can’t hear. When I slide deeper, pressing my nose to his stomach and swallowing around him, he roars.

Sugar and Zane explode on my tongue.

When he’s finished, he grabs my arm and pulls me over him. The marble is warm under us now, and he settles me against his chest.

“Have I told you how incredible you look?”

A weak laugh bubbles out of me. “You’re remembering me from an hour ago. It’s too late for compliments now. I’m wrecked.”

---