Not because I’m any good at not moaning when his hands are on me.
But because I desperately need more.
And I get it when a single, thick finger slides into me.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Not because I’m being cognizant of sound.
But because it feels so damn good, I’ve lost most of my ability to speak.
“Good girl, stay quiet,” he says, then he slides in another finger.
I moan, this one stuck in my throat.
“That’s it,” Zee says as I lift my hips to get his fingers in farther. “That’s it, take what you need, Zoe.” My eyes drift shut with his words.
I could listen to him for an eternity, listen to his voice urging me on, telling me I’m doing good, that I’m taking him well, that he likes what I’m doing.
It’s probably my people pleaser. She’s been in hiding since Zee and I finally became an us, Zee teaching me that I don’t need to live my life for anyone else’s approval, but he’s just fine with her coming out to play when it’s just the two of us.
He encourages it, even.
“I need more,” I whisper, and he lets out an approving chuckle.
“What do you need, Zoe?” he asks, and he slides in a third finger.
The stretch is exquisite, especially as he continues to move into me and out and as he shifts so I can feel his hard cock on my leg.
I don’t want his fingers.
“I want you to fuck me, Zee,” I moan. This time, the words are less quiet, less hushed, but the groan he lets out tells me I passed whatever test he set up for me.
“Play with yourself while I get ready,” he says, and I don’t even wait until his fingers are fully out of me before I start to strum my clit with my own fingers, tipped in a lilac purple. He moves off me, and I moan again when I watch his hands move to his mouth, watch him clean my wetness from them.
He’s not looking in my eyes though.
His eyes are on my pussy, on my fingers playing with my clit for his amusement.
“Fucking look at you,” he says, and my head tips back, my hips arching into my own fingers as I dip down, sliding one in and then out, dragging the wet up to my clit to repeat the process.
The sound that comes from my husband is feral.
But I’m so lost in what I’m doing, I barely register it.
I barely register how he gets off the bed.
Barely register how he takes off his boxers or how he climbs back into the comfy bed.
But I do register when his teeth bite my neck and he growls there.
“On your stomach,” he says.
Instantly, I obey, rolling over, my head to the side so I can glance behind and look at him.
Sitting on his heels, his hand is on his cock, stroking, taking me in.
Fuck, I love this man.
“Tip your hips,” he orders, and I know what to do. I accentuate the dip in my back, my hips moving, legs spreading just a bit as he groans, watching me.
“That’s it. Goddamn,” he says under his breath, running a hand up my inner thigh before running a finger through my pussy.
My hips buck.
“Still, Zoe.”
I moan quietly.
“You gonna be quiet for me, baby?”
I nod.
I would do quite literally anything to get him right now. His body lines up over mine, his breath against my ear. “You gotta be quiet, Zo.”
“I will, Zander. Please.”
That’s all he needs.
His hand moves between us, grabbing his thick cock and rubbing the tip up and down my wet before notching the head and sliding in.
Slowly.
Torturously fucking slowly.
A low moan falls from me.
“Fuck, you feel that? You feel how this pussy was made for my cock, Zoe?” I nod against the pillow, another moan bubbling in my chest.
“More,” I whisper.
I need everything.
“You need me to fuck you?”
Another nod. He chuckles as I clamp around him, but with that, he starts to move, pulling out and thrusting into me hard.
“Oh, shit,” I moan into the pillow, feeling him hit my G-spot with each thrust, my ass trying to tip back farther, trying to get him deeper, to get what I need.
“Stay fuckin’ quiet, baby,” he murmurs into my ear as he fucks me, laying his chest onto my back, his cock sliding in with each stroke. The way we’re positioned, he goes almost unbearably deep, pulling deep groans from me with each move.
“Zander,” I moan.
“Quiet, Zoe.”
“Honey,” I moan.
His hand moves, covering my mouth.
“Stay fucking quiet while your man fucks you,” he whispers, slamming in harder, deeper this time and hitting me square in the ache he’s created.
I moan into his hand and he stops moving.
“Zoe, you don’t fucking stop, I’m gonna make myself come and leave you hanging.”
He would never, that much I know.
But still, I clamp on him and nip his finger to tell him just how I feel about that idea.
He groans into my neck then moves to bite my earlobe.
“Face in the pillow, Zo, hand on your clit. Make this quick,” he says, his whisper raspy.
I do as he asks, one hand moving to where my clit is swollen and begging for attention, the other moving to the pillow, and I bury my face there.
And then he moves.
He starts fucking me now, no longer holding back, his cock slamming into me with such force, I feel my body moving up the bed with each move.
I scream into the pillow as he does, as my hand works, as I get closer and closer to the edge.
But that’s not what gets me there.
It’s not my hand or his thrusts.
It’s his voice in my ear.
It’s the words he says when he lines his chest to my back, leaning over me and growling in my ear.
“Fucking get there, Zoe. Right now.”
Because my body is so incredibly linked to his, my pleasure only erupts with his permission.
And then the world falls apart.
The scream dies in my chest, stars exploding in my eyes, my pussy clamping down on him, a second rush coming as I feel him pulse in me, as he bites my shoulder, groaning there as he comes.
And as always, it’s fucking exquisite.
He rolls off me, and I groan into the pillow.
“You good?” he asks, and I turn my head to glare at him, pulling another deep laugh from my husband. “I thought you were supposed to be the morning person in this marriage?”
“I am. I just can’t function when you fuck me into another hemisphere.” His smile widens with pride and I shake my head.
“Come on. Let’s go shower.”
“Let’s?”
“Honey, if I’m gonna be around our families all day with you slapping at my hands anytime I try to touch—”
“PDA in front of my parents is disgusting, Zee!”
“Your parents have more PDA than anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life. In fact, your dad is probably ready to help pay for our divorce because he definitely thinks you don’t like me enough,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
He’s not wrong, though.
“Zander—”
“Come,” he says, standing, then he leans over and slaps my ass.
Hard.
“Zander!”