Page 95 of Seeking Shadows

“You think I’m gonna let this go to waste?” he murmured, voice dark, possessive. “Think I’m not gonna taste you like this?”

My thighs trembled.

“I marked you,” he said, staring up at me from between my legs, lips already slick from kissing me breathless minutes ago. “And now I’m gonna clean up my fucking mess.”

And then his mouth was on me.

Fuck.

His tongue slid through my folds like he couldn’t get deep enough, licking up every bit of what was leaking out of me. He moaned against my skin, and it was filthy—obscene. The way he groaned as he tasted both of us, like it turned him on even more knowing he was drinking himself off of me.

I gripped his hair, my breath catching.

“God, Zane—”

“Say it again,” he growled, pulling back just enough to look up at me. His mouth was wet, jaw tight, eyes full of that same heat that had wrecked me minutes ago. “Say my name like that while I’m on my knees for you.”

I whimpered as he dove back in.

His tongue circled my clit with devastating precision, soft at first—almost gentle—but the way he gripped my thighs told another story. He was holding me like he was angry.

Like the idea of anyone else touching me, tasting me, even thinking about me like this made him want to eradicate the whole world.

“You were this wet for me,” he murmured, voice muffled against my skin, “and you think I’m gonna let anyone else even look at you?”

He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, slow and reverent, then licked up the length of me again, swallowing every drop.

“Mine,” he whispered, mouth brushing my folds like a promise. “Only mine.”

My knees buckled when he sucked my clit between his lips, tongue flicking just right, drawing another orgasm out of me like it was easy. Like he knew my body better than I did.

And then I shattered again—louder this time, grinding into his mouth as my vision blurred, my whole body jerking from the force of it.

But he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

He kept licking, moaning, tongue fucking me like he needed it—like tasting his cum in me had sent him spiraling. His hands flexed against my hips, trying to keep me still even as I shook under him.

“You come so fucking sweet like this,” he rasped, dragging his tongue up again. “You like knowing I can taste myself on you, huh?”

I nodded, breathless.

“Say it.”

“I love it,” I gasped. “Love when you make me yours like this.”

His tongue slowed, mouth gentler now, kissing between my thighs with a softness that made my chest ache.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not letting go. Not now. Not ever.”

And I believed him.

Because the way he was touching me—licking up every drop like I was a drug—wasn’t just lust.

It was devotion.

That’s when I notice them—small, tucked into the corners of the alley walls, blinking red like a warning.

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