Page 51 of Seeking Shadows

“No,” I whisper, leaning into his ear. “You shut the fuck up and admit it. Youmissedus.”

His hand flies to my throat — not choking, just holding. Dominating. His cock is hard, straining between us.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he breathes against my mouth. “Never stopped thinking about how tight you are. How fucking wet you get when I talk to you like this.”

“I’m dripping for you,” I whisper, biting his lip. “Want to feel how bad?”

I grab his hand, guide it between my legs, and his fingers slide through soaked heat. He curses under his breath, jaw grinding.

“Fuck. Mia…”

“You hate it, don’t you?” I taunt. “Hate how much you still want me. Hate how your cock aches when you think about how I taste.”

He slams me back against the wall again, grinding against me, breath ragged.

“Ihatehow much I crave this,” he snarls. “I hate that my cock’s beenstarvingfor your cunt. That I can’t stop dreaming about being inside you.”

“Then do it,” I snap. “Take it.”

He turns me around so fast I gasp, chest pressed to the wet tile. His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back as he pushes his cock against my core.

“You want it like this?” he breathes against my neck. “You want me to fuck the truth out of you?”

I moan. “God, yes.”

“I hate how quiet you get when you're lying to me,” he growls, every syllable dragging across his teeth like a threat. “I see it in your eyes, Mia. You think I don’t feel it?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. The truth claws at my throat, but I shove it down — and he knows it. That’s what drives him mad.

His hand slides around my waist and yanks me back against him, my spine arching against his chest. His cock throbs at the curve of my ass, hot and rigid, and when he speaks again, it’s low, cracked with restraint.

“You think you can hide from me like this? That I won’t notice when you're shaking?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He pushes me forward, until my palms brace against the cold tile wall. Steam curls around us like smoke, blinding, suffocating — but I only feel him.

Zane presses his cock between my thighs, not entering, just letting the head slide slow against my slit. Torturously slow. I gasp, hips twitching.

But he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t give in.

“Say something,” he rasps behind me. “Give me anything. A truth. A lie. A scream. Anything but this silence.”

His tip rubs against my entrance again, slick and hot, teasing my folds, and I whimper, nearly losing it. Still, he doesn’t push inside.

“You want it?” he grits out. “After everything you’ve done?”

I nod, eyes shut tight. “Yes. I want you.”

He breathes harshly, jaw clenched like he’s trying not to break. Like he already has. His hand slips between my legs, guiding himself again — just the tip sliding in, then pulling out. Over and over.

It’s torture.

"Zane," I beg, breathless. “Please. I need it. I needyou.”

He pauses. And when he speaks again, it's not rage anymore. It’s something else. Something deeper.

“You lied to me,” he says, forehead pressed to the back of my shoulder. “And I still can’t stop wanting you.”

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