Page 115 of Make the Play

And God help me, I groan like an animal.

“That’s it.” My voice is thick with reverence and need, obsessed with her pussy making the filthiest sounds as my hand moves faster. “You’re gonna come so hard for me, Zo. Say my name while you drench my fucking hand.”

Her thighs are shaking, pussy fluttering, whole body wound tight, and I know what comes next. I’m fucking desperate for it.

“Don’t hold back,” I rumble, dragging my tongue over her again. “Show me how fucking messy you get for me.”

She keens, high-pitched and frantic, and then she breaks. Screaming my name, her body locks up. To my absolute delight, she squirtshard, soaking my hand, my chest, the pillow beneath her. A full-body shudder, wet and raw and completely out of her control.

“Fuck,Zo,” I groan, eyes locked on her. “You soaked me, baby.”

I grind into the mattress, trying to hold on, but it’s useless. I come hard in my pants, my entire body jolting as I press my face back to her, groaning into the mess she made. Her body sags completely against the bed, boneless and trembling and gasping for breath.

“Goddamn, you’re perfect. My filthy, sweet little mess. Nobody else is ever getting this.”

I press kisses to her thighs. Her hips. Her shoulder. Soft now, reverent. She’s twitching beside me, her breath ragged and hair plastered to her face. I kiss up her body slowly before dragging her into my arms, loving the way she folds into me.

And then, so quiet I almost miss it, she exhales.

“Okay… maybe you earned the gold star.”

“Yeah?” I rasp, grinning like a lunatic. “That sounded like an admission.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late, sweetheart. You just squirted in my mouth. I’m king of the goddamn galaxy right now.”

She groans and buries her face in my chest. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Oh, I will. I deserve a trophy. A banner. Asong.”

Her head lifts just enough to look at me, and for a second, there’s something soft in her eyes. Then it twists.

“Well, King of the Galaxy, you realize you came in your pants, right?”

“I—what?”

She grins wickedly. “Like, full send. Didn’t even take your clothes off. Just”—she makes a vague jerking and hand explosion motion—“hello, high school.”

I scrub a hand down my face. “You weren’t supposed to notice.”

“How could I not?” she says, hiccupping on a laugh. “You went stiff like you were dying. I thought I broke you.”

“Youdidbreak me,” I mumble, voice muffled as I bury my face in her neck. “I should be studied.”

She drags her fingers through my hair lazily. “There will be infographics, and—this is important—I want it known that I, a brave and noble woman, was denied dick after being spiritually reborn through oral sex.”

I let out a strangled sound and flop my head back on the pillow. “You’re the worst.”

“You came in your pants.”

“Can youstop bringing it up?”

“I physically can’t.”

She’s grinning now, satisfied and gleaming and somehow even more beautiful in her post-orgasm chaos, and I’m hanging on by a thread. Because, yeah, I didn’t fuck her. Couldn’t. Because if I did, I wouldn’t survive it.

Not emotionally, not physically. And not while she’ll still claim it’s meaningless.

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