Page 62 of That's Too Pucking Bad

We make out fiercely, lips crashing together, tongues dancing as our breathing quickens. I’m lost in him, and I can’t get enough. I grip his shoulders, pushing myself against him, urging him deeper, harder.

“Oh my god!” I cry out, the pleasure building inside me, spiraling out of control.

“Fuck, Rem!” he groans, his voice thick with desire. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking good.”

With each thrust, he drives deeper, and the world outside fades away until it’s just us— our bodies moving together, lost in the moment.

“I’m close,” he warns, his breaths coming in quick bursts. “You gonna come for me again?”

“Yeah,” I gasp, the pressure coiling tighter within me. “Please, Zane, don’t stop.”

He picks up the pace, our bodies slapping together in a delicious rhythm. “I’m not stopping,” he promises, his eyes dark with lust as he watches my reaction. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Zane!” I cry out, my body responding to his every thrust, the pleasure overwhelming.

And then, with one powerful thrust, he cries out my name. The sound reverberates through the room, raw and primal, sending me over the edge.

I feel the wave crash through me, pleasure exploding as I lose myself in him. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I’m left gasping, clinging to him as we ride it out together.

He thrusts a few more times, each movement sending aftershocks of pleasure through me, and I can barely catch my breath as we both collapse together, breathless and entwined.

“Holy shit,” I manage, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I look into his eyes.

“Yeah,” he replies, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “That was incredible.”

I can’t help but smile back, still riding the high of our connection. “More than incredible,” I whisper, leaning in for another kiss, feeling the warmth of his body against mine.

“I’m glad you’re mine,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close. “You okay?”

I smile. “Yes. More than okay,” I assure him, my heart racing at the thought of what we just shared. “I want more.”

“Already an addict?” he smirks.

“I’m not an addict,” I laugh.

“Trust me,” he says, his voice deep and sultry. “You’ll be begging soon enough.”

I wake up to the chill of the early morning air. It’s still dark outside, and I stretch out, feeling sore and exhausted. Mybody aches in the best way possible, a reminder of last night’s wild escapades. But when I roll over, Zane’s not there.

Panic sets in for a second. Did he leave? Does he not care about me? But then I hear it— “Delicate” by Taylor Swift playing softly in the living room.

I wrap myself in a blanket, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth as I pad downstairs, my bare feet quiet on the wooden floor. When I reach the living room, the sight in front of me takes my breath away.

There’s Zane, cleaning the couch in nothing but his boxers. Seriously, it’s a sight. His muscles flex with every movement, and the way he’s concentrated on the task makes my heart race.

He looks up and catches my eye. A smile spreads across his face. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

I shake my head, feeling a warmth spread through me. “No, it’s okay. I could’ve cleaned it myself.”

He shrugs, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “I didn’t mind. Just trying to make it right.”

Zane walks over and kisses my forehead, and I’m left a little confused. Who is this sweet guy?

“Are you done?” I ask, a hopeful note in my voice. “Can we go back to bed?”

“Yeah,” he replies, glancing around at the supplies he has scattered. “Just going to put this stuff away and wash my hands.”

“Let me help,” I say, taking his hand and leading him back to the bedroom.

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