Page 81 of The Puckable Playbook

“Give it to me straight. How drunk were you the last time we did something?”

I swallow the dryness in my mouth. “I wanted it, Zaiah. I wanted you.”

“And now?”

I take a deep breath, letting my thoughts ruminate. It’s hard expressing them. They could bring rejection, but this newfound certainty I find in him shoves me forward. He’ll be careful with me. He has been since day one. “I want you in a different way.”

“Be completely clear, Lenore. What do you want?”

“I want to feel you inside me.”

“My fingers?”

I shake my head, tracing my hand down his chest and brushing against his length. “Your dick. What doyouwant, though?”

“To bury myself inside you.” He lifts my chin so I can see his eyes. “I want to feel it when you come this time.”

I suck in a breath. “You do?”

“More than anything.” His hand leaves my chin and lands on my breast, his thumb tracing my nipple.

A surge of pleasure jolts through me. “Zaiah…”

He circles my nipple until it’s hard, his strokes making me breathless.

“We need to get rid of these,” he instructs, dropping his other hand to my panties.

We lean back, both pushing our last pieces of clothing off while we look at each other. Immediately after his boxer briefs are on the floor, his hand fists his cock.

I watch in awe as he strokes himself. “Condoms?” I squeak out.

He leans over, pulling a box from my bedside table. I lift my brows at him, and he smiles. “You’re not the only one who likes to be prepared.”

He beckons me over, grabbing my face. The kiss is so fierce, so passionate, that I lose myself in it. In the captivating way his mouth and tongue work in synchronization. I’m so engrossed that I nearly crawl out of my skin when his fingers find my hips.

He smiles into my mouth. “I need to get you ready for me, sweetie.”

He parts my legs, sliding his fingers up my inner thigh until he finds my folds. He teases me there, and I buck into his hand. Pleasure warms my core. “Zaiah.”

“I know,” he says, lifting up to take possession of my mouth. Miraculously, his fingers don’t stop. They tease my entrance before he pushes a finger inside, and I shift against his palm.

My stomach twists. “Zaiah, I’m worried I won’t last…” I ride his finger, the pressure building until it explodes in a frenzy. A cry flies from my lips, followed by, “Sorry!” as I break into a million pieces.

He moans into my mouth. “You’re killing me.” He strokes his finger inside me, teasing out my aftershocks. “Tight and wet. Lenore.”

I moan, the sound coming from somewhere deep within. “I’m sorry. I wanted to wait.”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. That was fucking beautiful.”

He pulls out, then switches to two fingers. I grip his bicep like an anchor when he restarts his rhythm.

“I don’t know if I…” I swallow. “If I can.”

His jaw sets like I’ve laid down a challenge. Leaning forward, he captures my lips again. His whole body works in tandem to fire me up once more. I move with him, moans pouring from my mouth.

He brings me to the brink again, my mouth dropping slowly… Then he pulls away.

A sound of protest hums from my lips.

---