Page 48 of Only in Your Dreams

“Fuck, Zac—” My entire body goes weak, and I’ve never wanted anything more than this picture he’s painting.

“You get it, now, Mel? I want you to remember all that the next time you think I’m full of shit.”

He builds pressure over my clit and—I’m either coming or dying, I don’t know—

“Remember that the next time you make the mistake of looking at me like you don’t believe a word out of my mouth when I tell you I want you. That my body fuckingneedsyou—”

His fingers pick up their pace and I’m on fire.

“I want… fuck, Melody. I want everything with you.”

My breath catches. At the words, the sheer longing overcoming the heat in his eyes. With a blink, Zac seems to come to and realizes how this has shifted. Swallowing, he bends to run wet kisses down my neck. And his fingers lose all mercy.

It comes quick, and God, it’s so much better than clumsily using his cock the way I’d been doing. Everything rushes through me at once, the heat, the raging need to see it to the end. I grip his sides, his shoulders, scrape down Zac’s back. Take fistfuls of his hair and I really have lost my mind today because I crush his mouth with mine, desperate to feel him in every way I can.

I break away with a whimper. “I’m—Zac, I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” Zac says, pressing our foreheads together. “Let them fucking hear you in the next town—”

“Oh my G—Zac—”

The rest of the forest falls silent. His eyes go wide and hungry, watching me squirm and shudder beneath him. I grip his wrist as he continues to rub me, like I’m afraid he’ll quit on me right when it counts. My cries bounce off the trees around us, and thank God the neighboring camp grounds are deserted. Because there’s no denying that they’re the sounds you make when you get hit with the kind of orgasm that makes the world around you crumble.

He kisses the tip of my nose as I gasp desperately for air. “You are so fucking hot.”

Color rushes back to my vision and Zac’s there above me, staring like he’s having an out-of-body experience. I don’t know if he means to be, but he’s still rubbing me, drawing out sharp bursts of heat with every soft touch.

I’m not sure how my limbs are functioning. Somehow, I manage to pull his hand off me, make enough room to put mine between us instead, to reach for him through his sweats.

“You don’t need to do that—”

“There’s no way I’m leaving the scales tipped like this.”

The sound he makes when I close my hand around the shape of his cock will haunt me for the rest of my life. It’s pure relief, pure greed, and immediately I want to hear it again. I feel my way along the waistband of his sweats, reveling in the way his stomach shudders under my touch. And then I slip inside.

The second I get a bare hand on him, his grip in my hair turns just short of painful. A knee-jerk response to the way I’m stroking him, and it fills me with intoxicating power. This man, for all his smirks and self-assuredness, melting at my touch. This is what I want. This is what I need.

Zac’s eyelids go heavy as I start to stroke his cock.

“Fuck,” Zac breathes in one long, drawn out syllable. “Slow it down for me.” He nods frantically when I do. “Yeah, like that. Keep doing that.”

Zac is even louder than I was. He groans freely, breathes out my name, face screwed up in pleasure andGod, there’s something so hot about a man who’s vocal in bed. It makes me work harder, chasing more of his noises. Little rewards as I play with his cock.

“Fuck, Melody, that feels so good.”

His arms start shaking on either sides of me. His breathing becomes ragged, moans drawn out, and I resent them now, knowing in the back of my mind that this is it. It’s just this once, and I’ll never get to hear those sounds again. So, I soak it in. Stroke his cock just the way he asked. All the while, he doesn’t take his eyes off me, like he’s afraid to blink.

Like if he does, I might disappear.

The whole thing is almost as exhilarating as it was to feel his fingers move over me. I almost regret the slackening in his jaw, the way he whispersoh fuck, oh fuck, oh fucklike he wants it but wants to hold back, make it last longer, and he’s running out of time to decide.

Zac arches his neck, groans so deep and lets go, spilling all over my stomach. Hanging his head, panting, he takes in the sight of me as he tries to regain himself. When I release him, he shifts and lands on the ground beside me, staring up at the green canopy of leaves above us.

God.

I expected to feel shame. Humiliation. I’ve spent years resenting this man, only to fall to pieces for him anyway. Maybe I expected to feel some guilt too, at the fact that it’s the first time in years I’ve been touched by a man who isn’t Connor. I don’t feel any of that, though.

I’m relieved.

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