Chapter 105| Alone with Maren III R18+

Chapter 105: Chapter 105| Alone with Maren III R18+

Zane’s fingers traced the curve of her hip, a slow, lingering touch that made her skin prickle.

"Let’s try something new," he said.

She propped herself up on one elbow, hair spilling across her shoulder. "New?"

He stood, pulling her with him. His hand found hers, fingers lacing together, leading her across the room to the old oak desk shoved against the far wall. The surface was cluttered with books, a half-empty coffee mug, her laptop sleeping with its lid cracked.

He swept it clean in one motion. A textbook hit the carpet with a soft thud. The coffee mug wobbled but stayed upright.

"Bend over."

The command hung in the air, low and certain. She felt heat rush to her chest, spreading up her neck.

She placed her palms flat on the cool wood. The desk creaked under her weight. Her fingers curled around the far edge, knuckles white.

A mirror beside hung on the wall ahead, a rectangular portal framed in cheap brass. It reflected the bed behind them, the tangled sheets, the lamp still burning. It reflected her, naked on her forearms, breasts swaying with each breath. Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted.

And behind her, Zane moved into the frame.

His reflection stepped up behind her, dark hair falling across his forehead, his pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes. He placed one hand on the small of her back, pressing down until her spine curved, her hips tilting up.

She watched herself yield.

The other hand slid down her stomach, fingers trailing through the wetness between her thighs. Her breath caught. He circled her clit once, twice, a deliberate tease, before pulling his hand away.

"Watch," he said.

She watched.

He positioned himself behind her, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. The tip pushed in, slow, stretching her open inch by inch. Her mouth fell open in the mirror. She saw her own eyes widen, saw the way her knuckles went white against the desk edge.

He filled her completely.

A sound escaped her, something between a gasp and a whimper. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, his hand still pressing into her lower back. His reflection watched her, watched himself lodged inside her.

Then he withdrew, almost all the way, and thrust back in.

The desk shuddered against the wall. A pen rolled off the surface and clattered to the floor. She didn’t care.

The rhythm built slowly, each thrust a deep, dragging invasion that pushed her forward and pulled her back. Her breasts swayed beneath her, the motion visible in the mirror. Her hair hung in a dark curtain, obscuring part of her face, but she could still see enough. Could see the way his hips met her ass with each stroke, the muscles in his thighs flexing with every push.

The mirror made it real. Made it something she was witnessing and feeling simultaneously, a split awareness that amplified every sensation.

She lowered her upper body, elbows on the desk, cheek pressed to the wood. The new angle changed everything. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that made her cry out, a sharp, involuntary sound.

"Right there," she breathed.

His hand slid around her hip, finding her clit again, fingers working in tight circles that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. The desk creaked. Her breath fogged the wood beneath her face.

She kept her eyes open, fixed on the mirror.

The sight of him taking her, the sight of her body opening to him, the slick glisten of his cock sliding in and out of her. It pushed her higher, faster. Her thighs trembled. Her inner walls began to flutter, clenching around him with each withdrawal.

"Zane.."

"Keep watching," he said, his voice strained.

She did.

He drove into her harder, the desk banging against the wall in a steady rhythm. The lamp on the nightstand flickered. Her moans became fragmented, caught between breaths, her whole world narrowed to the point of contact and the image in the glass.

"Uhmm"

Her orgasm broke over her like a wave she hadn’t seen coming. Zane didn’t know if she was faking it but nevertheless they were both enjoying the moment.

Her body clenched around him, a deep, pulsing grip that made her cry out, her forehead pressing into the desk. She watched herself shudder in the mirror, watched her back arch, watched Zane’s jaw tighten as he kept thrusting, riding her through it.

"Fuck" Zane muttered as he pulled out.

The sudden emptiness made her gasp. She stayed bent over, chest heaving, watching his reflection. His hand moved over his cock, stroking once, twice. His release landed on her lower back, hot and thick, streaking across her skin in lines that pooled in the dip of her spine.

Then, slowly, he sank to his knees behind her.

His mouth pressed to the side of her hip, a soft kiss against the skin not painted with his cum. Another kiss, higher, trailing up her spine, avoiding the wet patches.

She turned her head, cheek still pressed to the desk, watching him upside down. "What are you doing?"

He didn’t answer.

His tongue traced the edge of her hipbone, then dipped lower, finding the wetness between her thighs. She flinched. Too sensitive. But he was gentle, his tongue soft and flat, lapping at her slowly, tasting the mix of her and him that still clung to her skin.

Her knees buckled.

He caught her, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. She let herself be held, her weight sinking into him, her head falling back against his shoulder.

The mirror showed them tangled together, slick and breathless.

"New," she murmured, her voice hoarse. "I like new."

He laughed, a low, breathless sound against her ear, and his arms tightened around her. "Good."

They stayed like that for a long moment, his heart hammering against her shoulder blades, her own pulse slowing from a sprint to a jog. The desk was cool against her thighs, the air thick with the smell of them. She watched in the mirror as he pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck, his lips lingering on the salt-sweet skin.

Then he shifted, one hand sliding from her waist to the small of her back, his touch light. He guided her gently, turning her to face him. She came willingly, her body pliant, her skin still humming. He lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her the few steps to the bed.

He laid her down, the sheets cool against her heated back. He didn’t climb on top of her, but instead settled beside her, pulling her into the curve of his body. His hand found hers, their fingers lacing together on her stomach.

His other hand drifted down, tracing the line of her hip, the dip of her waist, the soft skin of her inner thigh. Not to arouse, but to explore. To remember.

Her eyes drifted closed. The room was quiet now, save for their breathing. She felt the ghost of his touch on her skin, the phantom pulse of him still inside her.

Her eyes drifted closed.

The room was quiet now.

Only their breathing remained.

She shifted closer to him.

His arm rested loosely around her.

Neither of them spoke.

The warmth of the bed slowly pulled them under.

They were both too tired to notice.

Neither knew exactly when they fell asleep.