She settles fully on me, and her hands fall away. I reach down, lifting her dress, and her legs part. I place my hand between them, over the fine lace of her panties. Swallowing hard, I slide a finger underneath.
Dammit. My whole body tightens. I feel as if I’ve never touched a woman before.
She’s smooth down there, and I wonder if she shaves. I part her folds, and she’s wet and hot. She makes a mewling noise when I rub my finger back and forth.
“Christ, Zane,” she whispers when I find her swollen clit and press down. Her hips lift, and she turns her face so that our lips almost touch.
I turn my face away and push my finger inside her. It’s so damn tight I can’t stand it. I fuck her like that slowly, and my dick throbs in time to my heartbeat. I push a second finger inside her.
She’s panting hard, making those sexy little noises that tell me she’s getting close, and I rub her clit with my thumb. I know how to make a chick feel good, how to get her off. Problem is, normally I’m not holding them close, feeling their every move, hearing their every breath. Normally I don’t feel like I’ll come just from touching them.
This time is different.
I close my eyes, count backward from ten, trying to come back from the brink. She pulses around my fingers, and I grit my teeth, feeling an answering pulse in my dick.
Her small hand rests over mine, between her legs, and her breath catches on a sob as she comes, writhing in my lap.
I bite into her shoulder to stifle a groan and keep stroking her, feeling the waves of pleasure rolling through her, making her shake. God, it’s never been so hot before, seeing a girl come. My cock weeps and twitches.
“Oh, God…” Her arms fall to her sides, limp, as she struggles to catch her breath.
I’m panting just as hard. As I pull my fingers out of her, she whimpers, and fuck, my cock doesn’t need any more encouragement. My balls draw tight, and I blow air through my nose, fighting for control.
Her head is resting on my shoulder. She turns to look at me, her eyes wide. It makes me want to smile as I pull back.
That’s when I finally see what I’ve drawn on her back. It’s a humming bird.
I drew a bird on her last time, too. Wings, I realize. That’s what I want to put on her. Wings, so she can fly. Not the scaled, dark wings of a dragon, but great, feathered wings, the kind that can take you high, close to the light.
Where I can’t follow.
Chapter Four
Dakota
I’m still leaning on Zane’s strong chest, struggling to breathe, reduced to a puddle of pleasure. Holy shit, this boy knows how to play music on my body. I’m still thrumming everywhere, still clenching inside.
When I stare into his hooded dark eyes, the pupils are blown to hell with need. His arousal is a rod of steel at my back. He’s so beautiful, so hot, I want to grab his face and kiss him senseless.
But he pulls back.
No kissing. This is so weird. He strokes my back, sending shivers through me, and stands up.
What…?
I lean back on the cushions, pulling my dress down, suddenly self-conscious. After all, he touched me but didn’t even see me. He touched my breasts—over the dress—and made me come without even seeing what he was touching… And oh God, the memory makes me clench again. And again.
He’s standing by the sofa, fumbling with a pack of cigarettes. I get he’s not the cuddly type, but it’s like he couldn’t wait to get away from me after he made me come.
I should be freaked out. I don’t know Zane so well, and although he’s super sexy and I want him, I didn’t expect anything like this to happen so soon. Not before talking and finding out more about him.
Heck, I only came over to check he was all right after what happened at the park. The way he’d struggled in the water, thrashing and hitting right and left… After he’d left with Asher, Erin told me Zane never liked water. Yeah, okay. But it wasn’t just that he didn’t like it. What happened looked like a flashback, and it was scary as hell.
I look at him as he stares at nothing, still toying with the packet. He hasn’t pulled out a cigarette yet. His wet T-shirt sticks to his chest and shoulders, outlining every taut muscle, every ridge and plane. I see the black of tattoos through the wet fabric, curling on his chest and upper arms. His dark brows are drawn together, his gaze distant. What’s on his mind?
Bad idea or not, everything about him draws me close, including his demons. Including his tattoos, his piercings and his Mohawk, his Inked Brotherhood and absent family. Including the bottle of whiskey sitting on the table, and the fact that he’s still dressed in his wet clothes.
What happened in the park is a crack in his armor, a widening fissure that lets me glimpse inside him. I’m sure what I’ll find won’t be pretty, but it’s what makes Zane who he is, and I want to know him.