The move corresponds directly with my clit, already throbbing near painfully.
Even though I got myself off just last night, it wasn’t enough.
Something tells me that being with Zander will be a life-changing, soul-shattering experience.
That I’ll never be the same.
Fine by me, I can’t help but think.
One hand trails down my body, gently brushing the skin that sits above my panty line, the very tip of my finger dipping beneath the lace.
Zander’s breathing gets heavier, and that just urges me on.
The fact that boring old me is turning on this dream of a man? I’m feeling invincible.
My body begs me to move farther.
Without my permission, my hand dips, my middle finger circling my clit gently. So, so gently.
But I’m so on edge, turned on just by a kiss, by the idea of more, by the idea of being fucked by Zander, that it sends my body up in flames, engulfing me completely.
My head tips back, my hair falling with it, and I moan to the ceiling.
“Fuck, Zoe,” Zander murmurs. “Eyes on me, baby. Eyes on me when you touch yourself. From here on out, I control all of that. You agreed to be mine, and that means your pleasure? It’s mine.”
His words make me moan, and I’m fully shocked by how wet that makes me, the way his words make my pussy clench.
I’m usually not one to give up control.
I like things my way, and I like them predictable.
But Zander . . .
My thoughts are cut off when his thumbs hook in his boxers then pushes them down.
His hard cock bobs in front of me, thick and long, and my mouth waters.
When I finally am able to break my gaze, I look back at him, and he’s smiling, a small quirk on the edges of his lips.
He knows what he’s doing to me.
Then he grabs himself, pumping slowly once, twice.
And again, I moan.
I’ve never seen anything hotter than a naked Zee standing in front of me, jacking his cock while staring at me touching myself.
The idea is one that I’ll file away for eternity, using long after this ends to make myself come.
I move a finger, dipping into myself, and mewl as pleasure bolts through me.
“Are you wet, baby?” he says, and I moan. “Tell me, Zoe. Tell me how wet you are.”
“I’m so wet,” I say, my voice breathy. “It’s so tight. God.”
His hand moves again, stroking himself harder as I moan.
“You know, last night, I wasn’t sleeping.”
I freeze.
I should act stupid, act like I have no idea what he’s talking about.
But what’s the point?
It would be a lie.
And aren’t we past that? If we’re going to pretend, might as well jump in fully.
Instead, I stay silent, pulling the finger out and then pushing it back in.
Instead, I let my mind drift to the idea of Zander listening to me fingering myself right next to him in bed.
He smiles.
“You were so quiet, I wasn’t sure. But then I heard it: your fingers pumping. All I could think about was slapping your hand aside, moving down your body, and eating your sweet pussy.”
My breathing is impossible to control right now, heavy and harsh, and he knows it.
He’s smiling.
I watch as his thumb moves, rubbing over the wide head of his cock, his expression changing just a bit, and I categorize that for whenever I might need to know what makes Zee's face go a bit wild.
“You don’t have to be quiet now, Zoe. You don’t have to hide from me.” I can’t fill my lungs, my legs widening farther as I slip a second finger in, moaning at the stretch.
“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs, not for my ears, but a reminder to himself.
I want him to see.
I want him to see what I was doing that night, thinking of him inside me.
My other hand moves to my panties, pulling aside the stretchy fabric until I’m exposed to him, his eyes zeroing in on where two fingers are now disappearing as I fuck myself.
My bottom lip feels full as my mouth opens, my chest heaves, and my eyes lock on Zander.
His eyes are on my fingers.
I clench around said fingers, and he groans, deep.
“Jesus, pip. Look at that. Fucking look at that. The way you take your fingers, the way you’re so soaked. Were you this wet last night? Is that what I was missing?” I bite my lip and nod, even though no, I wasn’t this wet.
This wet is because Zander is looking at me like he’s never seen anything hotter in this entire universe.
“Need to taste that,” he says, the words said low like he’s talking to himself. Then he moves, kicking off his clothes from around his feet. He walks over to me, his cock bobbing, and my tongue comes out to lick my lips as I subconsciously think about licking that dot of precum, and he smiles.
It’s a good smile.
Feral.
Animalistic.
But I can’t focus on it as he settles in the bed next to where I am. I stare, slightly confused because he feels a mile away and his skin isn’t on mine.
That is, until he speaks.
“Panties off, climb on,” he says. I blink at him, my fingers paused deep inside me.
“What?”
“Take off your panties and climb on my face, Zoe.”
“I don’t—”
“I don’t give a shit. I’m telling you right fucking now, you need to move, take those panties off, grab onto this headboard, and ride my face until you find it.”
Oh god, oh god!
This is not happening.
This is not happening.
Zander Davidson did not just tell me to ride his face.
“Keep hesitating and I’ll get mad, baby.”
I blink at him.
And fuck, an unhinged part of me wonders what it would be like for Zander to get mad in bed.
It’s not like I've never done this—I have, of course. But on my terms.
Everything is always on my terms.
Except for when it comes to Zander apparently.
A part of me I don’t have control of shocks me when I move slowly to my knees before facing him and lowering my panties, carefully kicking them to the floor.
He turns to get a full look at me.
“A goddamn fucking dream, Zoe. Holy fuck.” A hand moves, running from my knee up my inner thigh, up, up, up, until the side of a thick finger meets my center. My hips try to move, to get more before he looks in my eyes. “Still.”
I oblige, my body freezing at his command.
“Good girl,” he whispers, and my pussy clenches at the words.
The side of a rough finger glides, brushing my wet entrance, my swollen clit, then back down, repeating the process, sliding my wet down my leg and back up.
“Zander,” I whisper.
“Widen for me, Zo.”
I do, moving my knees to give him more room to play between my legs. I moan as he uses that room, sliding a single finger over me again, featherlight.
He passes over my entrance, through my wet, over my clit, back to my entrance, and repeats the same, torturous cycle over.
He never enters me.
He almost does, the very tip of a finger moving in before going back to brush over my clit, playing with me.
Teasing me.
For a fucking eternity.
“Look at you, being so good, not even moving.” I can’t. I’m frozen in a battle of pleasure and obedience, dying for more and intuitively knowing that doing as he asks will get me what I want.