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Six months.
It’s been six months since you’ve gone official with Zayne.
“That’s half a year Tara. Half a year.”
“Yes, I know what six months mean. Maybe he just wants to take it slow?” She offers sympathetically which only earns a half hearted groan from you.
“He can’t take it any slower if he tries. I love him. I do, but what does a girl have to do to get a lil more than a kiss on the cheek yea?”
You let your face fall into your palms, sighing.
“Should I take the initiative? I mean, just go for it right? But what if that makes him uncomfortable?”
Before Tara can console you, your phone rings and the caller ID lights up with your cute doctor.
And just like that, all your previous anguish vanishes and a giddy smile replaces your frown.
“Dr.Zayne! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
A deep chuckle rings from the phone and it makes your heart flip flop in your stomach. Gosh, you could wax poetry about this man. The smooth timbre of his voice? The pinch in his brows when he’s concentrating? That jawline? Those striking eyes? His arms? Did you mention his arms? Infuriatingly handsome. Devastatingly so. Ruin your life kind of handsome.
“That’s Zayne for you my dear. I’m about to leave in an hour, would you like to join me for evening dessert near the hospital?”
“I would love to! But, we can’t order too many sweets, it’s getting late. Remember what your dentist said?”
You can hear the scoff in his voice when he replies. “Merely a suggestion.”
“I can see you rolling your eyes,” he chides over the phone, and you muffle a laugh beneath your palm.
Tara waves goodbye from her balcony as you leave. She mouths good luck to you and you pump a fist up in response.
Today.
Today will be the day you get a kiss from Zayne. If he’s okay with it. Gods, you hope he’s okay with it.
You’ve been dreaming about what his lips feel like on yours for months now, it feels like years. Sometimes…you dream about other things that make you wake in the morning clutching your blanket, thighs pressed tightly together. You won’t be able to meet his eyes for a week after those dreams.
Then briefly, you’ll wonder if you’re having even an inkling of that kind of effect on him. He always seems so composed. Even when you feel like your lungs forget how to breathe just with his mere presence.
You reach the cafe before Zayne does and decide on a table next to the windows as you wait. Your mind buzzes with how to ask him about, well, for the lack of better words, kissing him.
How should you bring it up? Should you bring it up here? No, that’ll make things awkward if he feels like you’re going too fast. You need to leave him an out. As much as you want to see that cute flush across his cheeks, you’ll hate to make him uncomfortable. Plus, it’ll give you an opportunity to run away from the embarrassment.
So lost in thought you don’t hear him calling your name until you feel the gentle touch of his hand against your back. The sudden warmth of his skin against yours makes you jump and you almost knock over the glass of water on the table. He steadies it effortlessly and you don’t miss the small smile on his lips as he sits down across from you.
“What were you thinking about? I waved to you outside, but you were so lost in thought you didn’t see me.”
His voice carries a slight pout and it melts you completely, the tension slipping from your shoulders. Absolutely adorable.
You reach towards him, pinching his cheek playfully. “Oh nothing, just wondering what our Zaynie will get. I placed my bets on the blueberry mascarpone cake.”
He huffs, scrunching up his nose briefly at your response. He can’t quite tell if you’re telling the truth or not, but he’ll let the flimsy excuse slide for now.
“Has anyone told you when you scrunch your nose, you’re super cute?”
A quirk of his brow. “A rhetorical question. You know no one speaks to me like this other than you.”
“Good. That means I’m the first person.”
He smiles, the kind that makes his eyes crease and if your heart wasn’t already beating out of your chest, the words that come out of him next definitely sent it tumbling out your mouth.
“You’re the only person those words will ever matter from. You know that.”
Do you? Do you know that?!
The waitress comes by to ask if you’re ready to order before you can form any coherent thoughts to his sudden attack against you because that’s what that was. An attack. On your wellbeing.
As anticipated, Zayne orders the blueberry mascarpone cake with an annoyingly calm voice and you squeak out an order for the strawberry parfait. The waitress, bless her heart, asks if you’re okay and if you need an extra glass of water which you politely refuse while Zayne has the audacity to quietly, albeit affectionately, laugh at your plight.
He offers to drive you home afterwards which you graciously accept. Anything to spend a few more precious minutes with him and maybe…maybe you’ll find the right timing to ask for a kiss.
His hand finds yours in the car and the pad of his thumb smoothing over your inner wrist burns you. But it’s the kind of heat you crave more of.
And when he walks you to your front door, leans in for a quick kiss against your cheek you finally ask. Finally manage to choke it out.
Shy fingers find the hem of his sleeve, stopping him from leaving. He turns, tilting his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Can I..um, can I kiss you?”
He blinks rapidly, surprise loud in his eyes.
You mistake his silence for uncertainty and quickly scramble back, hands reaching behind to fumble with the keypad of the front door.
Shit.
“Never mind! Sorry, I um—“ the door finally clicks open behind you. Thank the gods. “Good night!”
But before you can make your escape, his hand is enveloping yours and the door slowly shuts with a soft beep of the lock. The chime is deafening in the quietness and your heart lodges in your throat. Can he hear it? Your heartbeat?
He takes a step closer to you, so close you can feel the heat radiate from him. When he speaks, his voice is right against your ear and it makes goosebumps rupture along the skin of your neck.
“You…you want to kiss me?” The way he says it. The disbelief in it. Like he can’t imagine that you’d want to kiss him.
This is it. It’s now or never.
You turn, reaching up to grab the collar of his shirt, tugging him down. He lets you, but his hands don’t touch you. They just grip the door handle like his life depends on it. Like it’s the only thing keeping him together.
“Yes Zayne, I want to kiss you. May I?”
Nervous eyes flutter up to meet his and a shudder runs down your spine at the way he’s looking at you. The want in it. The want for you.
And then he’s kissing you, lips crashing against yours. Hungry, starving. He tastes like the sweetest blueberries and the richness of mascarpone coats your tongue. You can’t get enough of it. Of him. Of everything. The prickle of his stubble against your skin, the softness of his lips, the sear of his hands that finally wretched themselves away from the door knob to pull you flush against him, the sturdiness of him. He’s perfect.
Oh.
You were so stupid. Stupid to think he’s been composed. He’s anything but.
Your hands find their way into his hair, gripping the roots and when you give them a light tug, he lets out a sound that makes the blood in your veins boil. A low, involuntary groan that rumbles from his chest. A sound you’ve never heard Zayne make. A sound you want to keep coaxing out of him.
You’re breathless when you eventually pull away and so is he. You’ve never seen him like this before.
A mess. Ravished.
Pale skin dyed vermillion, spreading across his cheeks and coloring his ears and neck. Hair disheveled and glasses halfway off. Lips shiny with spit, chest heaving, and pupils blown wide with need. It makes heat lick up your spine, makes your thighs press together, and you feel the unmistakable wetness pool between them.
He adjusts his glasses and clears his throat, looking away.
“We’re in public, this is hardly appropriate.”
Bright laughter spills from you at his words.
“You’re right Dr.Zayne…So…” You slip your fingers around his tie, pulling him towards you. “Won’t you come in?”
The door swings open and his lips are on yours before he’s even crossed the threshold. His coat slips off and puddles on the floor and yours follow soon after. He trips over his own feet and you almost stumble in the tangle of limbs, but somehow, you make it to the couch without falling.
His hands are all over you, but they’re so gentle, you feel the hesitation in them. Touching you like you’ll break if he so much as squeezes a little too hard.
“Zayne.” You say his name softly, barely a whisper between mingling breaths and he freezes like he’s made a mistake.
You cover his hands with yours, letting them slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, guiding them up your sides.
He tenses, hands tremoring.
“You can be rougher, touch me how you want to. I swear I won’t break.” You tap your head against his, smiling. “I promise.”
“I—” His voice cracks. “What if I hurt you?”
Your fingers run along the palm of his hands, up his wrists and over his arms, smoothing over scars long healed over before gently kissing the ones closest to you.
“I trust you.”
It’s all the permission he needs.
Suddenly your back hits the cushions with a soft thud and his lips are dragging over your neck. Hot, wet, and insistent as they make their way down to your belly. Your shirt is lost somewhere in the living room. You think you might be losing your mind. You asked for a kiss and now his head is between your legs and he’s looking at you like he’s about to eat you alive.
A moan is muffled into the back of your hand when he squeezes your thighs possessively and you watch feverishly as he moves to unclasp your pants.
“Is this?” He kisses at the crease of your hip. “Okay?” Green eyes flick up to catch yours and you nod wordlessly. So much more than okay.
He slips your jeans and underwear off in one smooth motion, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and then just stares as you lay bare beneath him.
A sharp gasp escapes you at the chill that kisses your pussy, the wetness of your slick cooling against your inner thighs.
You blink up at him, red flushing your cheeks at how intensely he’s looking. It makes you want to close your legs, but his grip on your thighs remains firm.
“Are you…just going to look?”
He exhales through his nose, a long one before slowly taking his glasses off, folding them neatly and setting them on the coffee table.
“No.” Clipped and gruff, heavy with desire. It makes your stomach clench in anticipation.
Your eyes follow him. The precise movement of his hands as his watch comes off next with a quiet click. Then he’s undoing his tie, his fingers practiced. Then the buttons of his dress shirt.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
You swallow thickly with each button that comes undone.
Your breath catches when he finally lowers himself between your thighs, close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath fanning against you. And when he finally presses the hotness of his tongue against your clit, you’re already so wet it’s almost embarrassing.
“So…” He slurps against you, lapping up your slick. “Fucking wet.”
Your body reacts immediately to his touch, hips canting upwards, chasing the pleasure he’s giving you. It’s so much better than your dreams. Sweetness pools in your stomach, thick and syrupy like honey. By the time you feel the slow stretch of his fingers inside, working you open, you’re already tethering on the edge.
“Z-Zayne I’m—”
He curls his fingers just right and your voice breaks in a soft cry.
Your thighs clamp down around him in reflex, heel digging into the muscle of his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind, humming against you as he works you down into a slow heat, the pump of his hand steady against that spot that makes white blind your vision in oversensitivity, tongue still swirling lazily, like he’s done this a hundred, a thousand times previously.
You crumple into a melted pile of limbs when he’s finally done with you, pleasure curling languidly in your belly, seeping down into your toes.
He pushes himself onto his knees, wiping away your leftovers with the back of his hand. Goodness, he’s unbelievably handsome like this. You follow his movements, eyes flitting down to the unmistakable hardness against his thigh. It makes you swallow.
You reach for his belt, needing to know, needing to see him. He stops you with a tentative touch to your wrist.
“Are you sure? We can stop here for tonight.”
But his body betrays his words. There’s a slight quiver in his voice, a clench in his jaw like he’s biting back urges, restraining himself and when your touch ghosts over the outline of his cock, a shudder wracks through his whole body, dark lashes fluttering shut for a brief moment.
“I’m sure. I want you. Do you…?”
Want me?
You leave the words unsaid but he answers for you.
“I do.” His lips press kisses down the column of your throat, suckling, biting, marking. “I so desperately do.”
“But I didn’t bring any—”
You’re reaching for his belt before he even has a chance to finish his sentence. He laughs softly at that, low airy chuckles that make your stomach flip.
“Impatient, aren’t we?” He lets you undo his belt, then the zipper of his trousers, mirth flickering in darkened green eyes.
“Was this what you were thinking about at the cafe? What had you so distracted? Thinking about such…”
His words die in a low raspy groan when you finally free him, fingers running through coarse dark hair to tentatively wrap around his length. Swollen with arousal, ruddy, dripping with pre. Achingly hard.
“Indecent thoughts.” He manages to finish his sentence, the tail end of it almost a growl when you test a shallow pump of your hand, the edge of your nail catching the underside of sensitive skin.
“I wasn’t,” you whisper, peeking up at him.
“But…” Red creeps up your neck at your next words. “I did dream about it.”
It’s Zayne’s turn to blush this time. He hadn’t expected you to be so…honest. It stirs something inside him. Something hot and gooey that coils tight in his belly. The idea of you dreaming about him, about his hands on you, his lips canvassing your body, his cock—
His thoughts short circuits when he feels the tip of his cock press against your heat, dipping just slightly into your pussy. Just that little bit and it already has both of you gasping for air.
“We’ll have to–oh god…” He lets out a slow shaky breath, the muscles of his abdomen tight. “We’ll have to revisit that another time.”
“Can I…?” He finds your eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort, for permission to keep going.
You nod, and very carefully, you feel the thick head of his cock slowly ease into you, inch by inch, the pressure a delicious weight that has you drawing stripes of red down his back and your lips rounding in a sweet moan.
He’s impossibly hot inside you, every drag of his hips sending a rush of numbing pleasure down your legs. When he finally bottoms out, pelvis flushed against yours, it leaves the both of you breathless. You feel every inch, every pulse of his veins, every throb of his cock inside you.
He stays there motionless for a moment, head hanging, breathing ragged, letting pleasure fill his veins. It’s tortuous.
“Zayne.” A soft whine of his name and a nudge of your thigh against his. When that doesn’t elicit your desired response, you roll your hips and clench down. He flinches, a deep groan rumbling from him. He gets the message.
A small huff of laughter escapes him as he stills your movements with large hands that engulfs your waist.
“Okay, okay.” A gentle placate to your impatience.
The first thrust is shallow, testing, but it still has you arching into him, eyes glassy with pleasure. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, kissing away a bead of sweat and then he shifts just slightly, hips angling a certain way that has you crying out his name in a broken gasp, hands scrambling to find purchase around him.
A raspy chuckle is murmured into your ear. “Is this what you wanted?”
He does it again, and again, his cock dragging over that sensitive spot his fingers had found moments ago that has you keening, has your pussy gripping him so tightly his rhythm falters, a slew of quiet curses escaping him.
His thrusts pick up speed, desperately chasing the pleasure blooming in the pit of his stomach. They’re rougher, each punctuated with a deep throaty groan buried against your neck. His hand dips between your thighs, thumb pressing against your clit, rolling, swirling, and then he pinches between his fingers.
You make an unintelligible sound, halfway between his name and a whimper as the hot knot of pleasure in your belly finally unravels.
His hips grow frantic, stuttering against yours, desperate for his own release as he feels you come undone around him.
“Say it…” He pleads, voice strained and scratchy.
“Say what, Zayne?” You answer, reaching for his face, cradling his cheeks in your hands.
“Say–” He cuts himself off with a grunt as you pulse around him, legs tightening around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. “Say you love me.”
Your lips brush the tip of his nose, right beneath his eye, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.
“I love you.”
He groans softly, his grip on your hips tightening, fingers flexing against soft skin. The muscles in his thighs twitch as he barrels closer to an orgasm.
“Say I’m yours,” he pants against your ear, breathing heavy and uneven.
Your answer is immediate.
“You’re mine.”
The words break him, the last of his restraint crumbling and he comes with a deep, sated moan, spilling hot and sticky inside you.
Creamy white oozes out from where you're connected as he continues to rock slowly into you, lazy, unhurried thrusts as he comes down from his high.
He slips his fingers between yours, bringing it up to kiss the back of your hand, your inner wrist, letting his kisses trail up your arm to your lips.
“I love you too.”
You smile, still shrouded in a warm, pleasant haze. “I know.”
Your free hand splays against his chest, pressing divots into the flesh to feel his heartbeat. It’s a steady thing, a grounding presence. You kiss him there, right where his pulse is the strongest.
Just then, your phone flashes with a chime. A text. You glance over the contents briefly and you can’t hide the small smile on your lips when you do.
From Tara, asking if your mission went well.
Zayne tilts his head, looking at you curiously.
“A mission? Do you have to go?” His brows crease in anticipation of disappointment.
You grin up at him, eyes twinkling. “Nope! No mission, just Tara. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“In that case…” He smiles, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before gathering you into his arms and walking towards the bedroom. “I suppose that means, we have all night.”
You can’t help the quiet laughter that spills out of you at that.
He lifts a brow. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh nothing. Just thinking about how silly I was.”
“Silly?” He repeats, laying you down gently into the comforters.
You reach up to kiss him, arms looping around his neck, hands curling into a head of thick black hair.
“Yes…How silly I was. I’ll tell you about that later too.” Your eyes crinkle into a warm smile and he can’t help but let it go when you let out those soft, sweet noises as he presses kisses lower and lower down your body, hands curving around the swell of your breasts. He’ll ask about it later and maybe he’ll tell you too. How silly he was.
How silly he was to think you would be afraid of him, that you wouldn’t embrace all of him, that you didn’t love him just as much, if not more, than he loves you.
How silly indeed.