Chapter 104| Alone with Maren II R18+

Chapter 104: Chapter 104| Alone with Maren II R18+

The door handle rattled. A voice, muffled through the door. "Hello?"

Maren’s eyes snapped open. Her body went still beneath him, every muscle locked.

Zane didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His forehead stayed pressed to hers, his weight acted as a shield between her and the sound.

Silence stretched.

Then they both heard footsteps retreating down the hall. A door opened and closed somewhere farther away. The building settled back into its quiet hum.

"Moron," Zane muttered, his voice a low rumble against her skin. "Thought they’d interrupt."

Her laugh was thin, shaky. "Thought they’d get an eyeful."

He pulled back just enough to look at her. His hair was disheveled, dark strands sticking to his temples. Sweat glistened on his chest. Those blue eyes, still dark, still hungry, traced her face.

"Want to stop?" he asked.

The question hung there, a courtesy he didn’t really mean.

"No."

She rolled him off in one smooth motion, pushing his shoulder until he fell onto his back. The mattress bounced. He stared up at her, surprise flickering across his features before understanding settled in.

Her turn.

She straddled him, knees bracketing his hips, facing away. The angle felt different. Her back to his chest, his legs beneath hers. She lowered herself slowly, one hand braced on his thigh, the other reaching back to guide him.

The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, still slick from before. She sank onto him, taking him inch by inch, feeling the stretch from this new angle, deeper somehow. A sound escaped her throat, half gasp, half moan.

His hands found her hips. Fingers gripping the curves, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of her lower back. He didn’t guide her. He held her, letting her set the pace.

She began to move.

A slow grind, her hips rolling forward and back, the friction drawing a long, shuddering breath from both of them. The position gave her control, let her tilt her pelvis just so, finding the spot that made her toes curl against the sheets.

His hands slid around her waist, palms flattening against her stomach, pulling her closer. Then his fingers moved lower, dipping through the curls at the apex of her thighs, finding her clit with a precision that made her gasp.

He circled her. Slow circles, matching the rhythm of her grind. Not too much pressure, just enough to build, to tease, to keep her hovering at that edge of sensation.

"Like that," she breathed.

She picked up the pace, the grind becoming a rock, her hips moving in a steady cadence that made the bed creak beneath them. His fingers kept their rhythm, circling, pressing, dragging her closer with each rotation.

The room had become wet sounds and ragged breaths. The slap of her thighs against his. The soft grunts that escaped him with each grind. The way her own voice kept escaping in sharp little cries.

She could feel him inside her, thick and rigid, the angle pressing against her front wall with each backward roll. Her head fell forward, hair sweeping across her thighs.

"You’re so tight," he said, voice strained.

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her whole focus had narrowed to the point where his fingers circled, where his cock filled her, where the two sensations began to blur together into something that made her stomach clench.

He shifted beneath her, angling his hips up to meet her grind. The new depth made her cry out, a sharp sound that cut through the rhythm.

"Zane..."

Her hand shot back, fingers finding his thigh, gripping hard. Her other hand fisted in the sheets. His fingers kept circling, relentless, teasing, not letting up.

She could feel the orgasm building, a pressure behind her clit, a tension coiling in her thighs. Her grind became erratic, desperate, chasing that peak with single-minded focus.

"Come for me," he said, the words a low command.

She did.

The orgasm ripped through her, sudden and sharp, her inner walls clenching around him in a pulsing rhythm that made her whole body shudder. She cried out, the sound raw and broken, her hips still grinding, riding out the waves.

He groaned beneath her, his hands tightening on her hips as he came, his release hot and deep, filling her again.

She collapsed forward, her hands catching her weight on his shins. Her chest heaved. Her hair stuck to her damp cheeks.

He didn’t pull out. His hands found her hips again, thumbs stroking the sweat-slicked skin.

She stayed there for a long moment, catching her breath, the room slowly coming back into focus.

Then she lifted herself off him, slowly, feeling the empty space he left behind. She turned to face him, kneeling on the bed, her thighs slick, her skin flushed.

Zane lay there, chest rising and falling, his eyes tracking her movements. A lazy smile spread across his lips.

"Definitely worth the interruption."

She laughed, the sound still breathless, and reached out to trace a finger down the center of his chest, following the trail of sweat to his navel. "Next time, I’m locking the door."

"Next time," he repeated, catching her hand and bringing her fingers to his lips. He kissed them, one by one, his eyes never leaving hers. "I’m holding you to that."

She pulled her hand free and collapsed onto her side beside him, her head finding the crook of his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her close, her cheek pressed to the damp warmth of his skin.

For a while, they just breathed together. The ceiling fan clicked overhead, stirring the heavy air. The city hummed beyond the thin walls.

His hand drifted down her spine, tracing each vertebra, a lazy, absentminded touch. "You know what I was thinking, right before the door rattled?"

"Mmm?"

"That I wanted to taste you again. Slowly. From the inside out."

Her breath hitched. She tilted her head up, meeting his gaze. The hunger was back, softened by satisfaction but far from sated.