Page 38 of The Final Deal

I pull him closer until I’m holding his mouth against my neck. “If you’re gonna hurt me, then fucking do it.”

Seconds tick by like years as we stand in opposition in the dark, him telling me to leave and me demanding him to make me. Tears prick my eyes as I push him further into my flesh. My voice cracks as I dare him, “Fucking hurt me.”

If someone’s going to hurt me, I want Zak Ramos to be the one to do it.

His lips pucker against my skin, pressing like a kiss as he takes a deep breath.

My hand falls away, and he leans away slightly. His eyes are haunted but burn with familiar embers I’ve seen many times before.

The bedroom door swings shut.

Zak’s mouth crashes onto mine, and he drags me to his bed.

Chapter 15

Outta My Head

–Tropic Gold

The first timeI had sex with Zak, I told him I never wanted to leave the bed. He laughed and twirled my hair between his fingers and held me close. “I never wanna leave, either, babe.”

Eventually, we did leave the bed to hit the stage, but we returned after the show, totally unable to keep our hands off one another—and that’s how it’s always been with him. He’s always made me feel like the sexiest woman on the planet, like he could never get enough of me, and the only way to sate our hunger was to live in bed together, naked.

That same hunger returns with a vengeance as I land on Zak’s bed. He towers over me, consuming my mouth in a desperate kiss that pauses only to remove the shirt from my torso.

His skin is so warm on mine, a treat so deliciously decadent that it’s been forbidden by his twin brother because too much of it can be deadly. He trails kisses down my jaw, skipping my neck to press his lips against my shoulder, then encircling a nipple. The progression of movement is predictable: he nips me withhis teeth, coaxing my nipple to pebble before soothing the pain with a long, languid lick of his tongue. When he sucks it into his mouth, I come undone; a loud moan escapes my throat and floats into the darkness.

His lips follow a familiar path across my chest, palming one breast as he lavishes the other with the same attention from his mouth. Then, they travel down my stomach and pause so he can remove my shorts and underwear. He kisses up my calf and thigh, quickly moving to the center of my thighs.

“No,” I beg, forcing him to look at me. His dark eyes reflect my own starvation. “I need you.”

Zak kisses my lower lips and slides his tongue between them for a quick taste. I gasp at the sensation—maybe I should let him continue.

“But foreplay is the best part,” he murmurs, licking me again and causing my legs to part wider.

He licks me over and over, small strokes of his tongue that shake my thighs apart until I’m fully open and bared. The warm, wet swirl of his tongue over my clit melts me into the bed.

“Oh, my God,” I sigh softly as I fist the sheets.

Six years of practice has made Zak an expert at using his pierced tongue on me and turned me into an addict. His love, his touch, is what I crave most—it’s why I can visualize a life spent together with him in bed and nowhere else if we could.

My thighs start to clamp over his ears, and he stops. He shoves his gym shorts down. “Fuck it.”

He kisses me hard and makes me taste myself. His arm works between us, gliding the tip of his cock up and down my entrance and tapping my clit a few times, never breaking the kiss.

He slowly sinks into me.

I pant heavily, and he groans into my open mouth as he fills me. His hips swing, the Texas flag-coloredMade in San Antonioundulating above the apex of my thighs.

“You’re so hot, Z,” I say breathlessly. My arms wrap around his shoulders and tug him closer. “You’re so fucking hot.”

He smashes his lips against mine. Zak doesn’t make love to me in one way; he slows his rocking into an unhurried pace, and his bolted tongue is deliberate as it wraps around mine.

Each pump of his hips sounds with a wetsmack. Every part of the man I’ve loved since high school turns me on so much, turns me into a sopping, drenched mess beneath him. I’m nothing but a puddle of desire, a means to the end where my love for Zakary Ramos can be realized in its purest form.

I’d do anything for him, to keep him safe and well and loved.

He hikes my legs up, knees to my ears with them hooked over his arms, and drills into me relentlessly. The angle is so deep, so good that pleasure scrambles my brain.

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