Page 163 of Make the Play

“Fucking hell, Zo,” he pants, his head falling forward. “You feel unreal like this. So fucking wet, so warm. Taking me raw like you’re made for it.”

I moan, eyes fluttering closed for half a second.

“No,” he rasps. “Eyes up.”

Opening my eyes, I watch as he sets a perfect rhythm, each thrust slamming into the deepest part of me. His hand slides up to cup my breast, thumb flicking over my piercing, while his other hand snakes around to my clit, stroking fast and filthy.

My reflection is wild—sweat-slicked, flushed, mouth open in a silent moan.

“You see that?” he grits. “That’s what you look like when you’re mine. No one else gets this, baby. No one else gets to touch you, no one else gets to see you fall apart. This?” His palm drags up over my bare stomach. “This is all mine.”

I whimper, my hands gripping the counter harder. His hand slips back to my pussy and slaps me once—right on my clit, the wet sound echoing in the room.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

“Oh, youlovedthat,” he rasps.

He does it again, tapping with his fingers against the wetness.

I shudder, tilting my head back. “God, yes, I love it.”

His hand slides up, fingers curling around my neck.

“You wanna know what this pussy looks like wrapped around me?” he breathes, watching the mirror. “Because I can fuckingsee it.You’re swallowing me, Zo. Youownme.”

Another thrust, another slap. The rhythm starts to melt together, every move of his hips punctuated by praise or pressure or the slap of his palm. Every inch of him buries deeper, trying to replace what fear hollowed out.

“Look at you, baby. Look what only I get.”

I lift my eyes again, and I see it. His body flush behind mine, eyes locked on me like he’s never seen anything so fucking beautiful.

He groans, his mouth finding my shoulder, then the curve of my neck, then the space just under my ear.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll worship this body every goddamn day if you let me.”

His fingers drag down, slick with my arousal, circling my clit and slapping it until I’m shivering in his arms.

“Look at yourself,” he whispers. “Look how good you take me, like a fucking queen.”

“Chase—” I gasp, hips jerking.

“I’ve got you, baby. Come for me.”

It crashes through me, body arching as a broken sob rips from my throat. My legs go weak and my hands tremble, and still he doesn’t stop. He holds me up and fucks me through it, whispering things I don’t even register until the aftershocks fade.

“Good girl.”

“My girl.”

“Mine.”

And then he’s gone, too. His thrusts stutter, arms tighten, and he comes with a guttural moan that starts low and ends in a reverent curse, holding me so tight I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.

“Fuck, Zo. You feel so good. So full of me.”

We stay there like that for a moment, his chest pressed to my back. His hand spread low across my belly and cock still inside me, twitching with aftershocks.

Eventually, he eases out, hands still on me like he doesn’t want to lose contact. He drops to one knee behind me, thumbs gently parting me as he watches his cum drip down the inside of my thighs.

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