Page 136 of The Hearts We Fumble
I let out a breathy chuckle, but it’s cut off the moment his tongue flicks against my clit, sending a shiver down my spine. His mouth trails lower, lips and tongue working in tandem as he teases, tasting every inch of me. When he sinks inside, I moan, my fingers clenching the sheets.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice thick with need. My eyes flutter shut as I focus on nothing but the sensation of him, the way his mouth moves, the heat of his breath against my core.
A finger glides into me, slow and deliberate, coaxing me open. Then another, stretching me just enough to drive me insane. My hips rock in sync with his movements, seeking more, needing more. The unmistakable sound of his fist working himself behind me has my pulse spiking.
I’m right there, seconds from begging, when he pushes himself to stand, the loss of his mouth making me whimper. But then I feel it—his tip teasing at my entrance, sending another wave of need rolling through me.
“Hold on, Wyatt,” he mutters, gathering my hair in his fist, his body looming over mine.
His chest brushes against my back as he leans in, his breath hot against my ear. I tilt my head slightly, meeting his dark, hungry gaze. He smirks, his voice a low growl.
“Hold on tight, baby, because this will be fast and deep. And when you walk back out there, you’re still going to feel me—every inch, every thrust—with my cum coating these pretty thighs.”
A strangled moan escapes me.
He tugs my hair, waiting. My scalp prickles and my stomach tightens.
“You ready?”
I nod.
No warning. No slow buildup. He drives into me in one deep, punishing thrust.
I gasp, my legs nearly giving out, but he’s already there, his hands gripping my waist, holding me steady as he pulls out and drives into me again. The sharp slap of our bodies meeting echoes through the room, each deep stroke unraveling me, sending another shock wave of pleasure through my core.
His grip on my hair loosens, and his arm slides around my front. His hand slips under my bikini top, fingers teasing my nipple until I arch into him.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice wrecked.
Without warning, he flips me onto my back, hovering over me. His gaze is molten as he drags his eyes over every inch of my body, his chest rising and falling in quick, heavy breaths.
“You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Wyatt.”
Then he’s inside me again, thrusting deep, hard, relentless. My nails dig into his back, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.
And when we finally unravel, when pleasure overtakes us, it’s a slow descent into something deeper, something more than just the physical.
Zane stays inside me for a moment with his forehead pressed against mine as our ragged breaths mingle. Then, slowly, he eases out, helping me sit up. Kneeling in front of me, he carefully slides my swimsuit bottoms back into place and secures my sarong around my waist.
But he doesn’t let go.
Instead, he pushes up against the wall, his fingers trailing lightly over my bare skin, sending a new rush of heat through me.
“Happy birthday, firecracker,” he murmurs, his lips grazing mine.
I smile, breathless. “You already said that.”
“Yeah?” His mouth curves wickedly as he brushes his lips down my jaw, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Then let me say it again.”
His kiss is slow, devastating. The kind that melts me and makes me want to drag him down on top of me all over again.
I tug at his shirt, needing him closer. He groans when I arch into his chest, when my nails scrape down his back, his hands gripping my thighs as he lifts me against the wall.
“Zane,” I whisper, and the way he looks at me—like I’m his entire world—makes my heart feel like it’s bursting from my chest.
This—him—us.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
