Only then does he thrust inside me, his hands still wrapped around my hips so tight I can feel each of his fingers imprinted.
And his cock. Fuck.
He stretches my pussy wide, makes me feel tight around him. He's thick, and so long that when he pushes all the way into me, I can just feel his tip bottoming out at the end of my pussy, buried as far inside me as possible.
Both of us moan, our faces pressed together, his stubble on my cheek. It feels so fucking good, his warm skin on mine, his muscles hard everywhere that I'm soft, his cock thick and pulsing with desire inside me.
For a second, he turns his head, and our eyes meet, both of us lost, distracted by the sensation. The way that it feels like relief, scratching an itch I never knew I had. Finding home again.
Then he bites my earlobe sharply and that pulls me back into myself, into the physical sensations.
"Zayne," I murmur as he pulls back out of me again. My pussy tightens, contracts as it adjusts to his girth, and he sucks in another sharp breath at that feeling.
"Fuck, Clove. You are so fucking tight. So wet and hot..."
"Fuck me, Zayne. I want to feel your cock claim every inch of my pussy."
He pins me against the couch with a growl and starts to thrust in a rhythm, faster with each motion. His cock glides in and out of me, slick with my juices, and every time he slams back into me, my body rocks with the sensation. I strain to thrust against him, to match his pace, but he keeps me pushed against the couch, controlling the motion, controlling me, my pleasure, my body. I surrender to him, loving the feeling of giving up control.
He locks eyes with me as we fuck, flattens one palm against my belly to keep hold of me and lifts the other to run through my hair. He brushes it off my face, then grabs a fistful and pulls me into a deep kiss, his tongue invading my throat as he continues to fuck me.
It doesn't take long for the sensations to build toward a peak, my clit still sensitive to the point of almost feeling sore from my orgasm earlier. He bends down to kiss my neck, my ear, then tilts my head back, exposing my throat for him to run his tongue along.
"Fuck, Clove," he hisses again. I tighten my pussy, clench around him, and he groans aloud.
Then, without warning, he pulls back. Grabs both of my ankles and flings them up over his shoulders, all the while still fucking me, his balls slapping against my ass. I arch my hips, and with my legs over his shoulders, he's fucking me from below, so his cock drags along my front inner wall, his tip slightly curved upward, running right over my G-spot. I cry out, the cry dissolving into a moan as he continues to fuck me hard.
"God, I'm going to come. Zayne. Zayne," I repeat, muscles clenched, hands in fists around his biceps.
"Come for me baby," he growls, and relief floods me for a moment. If he'd asked me to stop, to hold it back like last time, I don't know that I could have. I'm already right at the brink, speeding toward it, and his thick cock against my G-spot isn't helping me fight it.
"Fuck," I cry out, right as the orgasm hits. Every nerve ending in my body sparks, and my pussy spasms around his cock, the muscles clenching and releasing in quick succession as I come hard around him.
For his part, he moans and keeps thrusting, his hands on my calves now, gripping hard as he fucks up against me. The orgasm keeps going, lingers, and it starts to build again almost straight away, and I moan aloud, the pleasure so intense it borders on painful, but in the best possible way. I want him to fuck me forever.
He sees me twist and writhe beneath him, feels the way I tighten again around his cock. He lets go of my leg with one hand and reaches down to stroke my clit within easy reach of his hand. He grins as he does, taking in my pleasure, enjoying knowing how hot he gets me.
I scream this time, louder, as the second orgasm washes through me. He keeps stroking my clit, even as I jerk and twist beneath him. And then he drops his hand, drops my legs back down to the couch and lies along me, our bodies flush, as he fucks me harder. His cock plunges in and out of me, and his balls hit my ass hard on every thrust.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck.
"Fuck, Clove, I'm going to come."
"Come for me," I murmur into his ear.
He pulls my head back, looks straight into my eyes as he finishes, groaning deep in his throat, a desperate sound that's almost a growl. I love that, love the desperate look in his eyes, the way his body shakes in my arms.
When he finally collapses against me, we keep our arms around one another, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. I can feel his heartbeat hammering, and my own pounding back against it, our chests pressed together. When he finally leans back to catch my eye again, we both laugh, half-delirious.
"Fucking hell," he murmurs before he kisses me again, softer this time. More sensitive.
"I know," I whisper when we break apart once more. Our eyes lock, and there's something about him, about his eyes, his touch... the way that felt.
When he pulls out of me, I have to fight the urge to let out a sigh of protest. I want him back inside me already; I want to stay as close to him as possible, both of us basking in the aftermaths of our orgasms.
Luckily he doesn't stay apart from me for long. He scoops me up into his arms and carries me through the apartment, toward his bedroom. It's a different layout than mine, I notice, a little larger, more open-plan. I like it. And he's decorated it well too, not like the typical bachelor pad. It's all modern designs and simple, tasteful furniture.
Then I forget about the apartment, because he's setting me down on the bed and curling in beside me, and I'm lost in his kiss again.
A few minutes later, we lie side-by-side on our backs, staring up at his ceiling, still breathless, our bodies slick with sweat, sticking together.
“Bet you never expected your doorman could do that,” Zayne says, a little smirk dancing across his lips.
I lean in to kiss the corner of that smirk. “I knew he was good at fighting off bad guys,” I say. “I had no idea he was such a naughty guy himself.”
“Only when inspired,” he replies, and I laugh, remembering our conversation in the café earlier.
“So what else inspires you?” I ask, settling into his arms.
“Music mostly,” he replies. “If we’re talking that kind of inspiration.”
“What type?”
“Indie bands, classic rock… Little bit of everything really. It’s the best part of my day sometimes, just heading into the stock room to get everything ready, listening to the perfect playlist.”
“Make me one sometime?” I ask, and then feel my cheeks flush. Was that weird to ask? Is this just a hookup, can we do things lik
e make each other playlists?
But Zayne is already nodding, his eyes bright with ideas. “Definitely. I know what to put on it already.”
“You do?”
He tightens his arms around me. “I thought of the perfect song the moment I met you.”
I laugh. But he doesn’t. I turn in his arms to meet his eye. “Really?”
“Sometimes people just do that. People who really click with me. It makes a song come into my head, and I want to share it with them…”
“Can you play it for me?”
He reaches across me for his phone. For a moment, I regret the lack of warmth where his arm had been a moment before. But then he’s back, phone in hand, and I snuggle into his side as he cues up the music.
I’ve never heard the song before. Don’t recognize the band either, but I love the rhythm. It’s an acoustic guitar, and a soulful singer, singing about a girl he once met, but never knew her name. It’s sweet and sad all at once, and as I curl up against his side and listen to the lyrics, my head fills with a pleasant buzz. This feels right. Zayne feels right. I don’t know how to describe it.
When we finally drift off an hour later, my body curled up to his wrapped around me, arms around my waist, cradling me against him, I have one last thought before I drop off into sleep.
Uh oh.
5
I wake up the next morning, and for a moment, I'm disoriented. This looks like my apartment. Sounds like my apartment. There's the same distant blare of traffic and the same slant of sunlight through the standard-issue blinds. But the bed feels softer beneath me than I'm used to. And I'm warmer than I'm used to, too. Mostly because there's a very warm body curled against mine, and a strong arm wrapped protectively around my waist.
I shift a little and feel something else press against me. A hard, thick cock prodding my ass.
Then I remember last night. Everything from the coffee date all the way to our wild session on the couch. I smile and turn my head to peek over my shoulder.
Zayne blinks at me, sleepy, still waking up. But he probably has the same idea that I do, because a moment later, he shifts his hips against mine, and his cock digs harder against my ass.