Page 65 of Hollow Code
"Lay back on the bed," he whispered as he helped lower her to the mattress. All he wanted was to please her. Worship her. Give her what she wanted. and make sure she knew she was desired.
A slight gasp escaped her lips as he spread her legs wider.
He kissed her knee, then higher, inhaling her fruity scent. Her hand slid down to his shoulder, fingers flexing. He took his time, tasting and teasing not just because he needed it for himself, but he wanted the pleasure to climb to the highest peak for her.
When he flattened his tongue, she trembled. And then again when he changed the pressure. He continued to chase the rhythm that made all the sounds spill out of her. He filed them away in his mind so he could be fluent in them. He wanted to understand everything about Zadie. This was just one small part of who she was, but it was an important part. It connected him to her like hardware to software.
She raised her hips to meet his mouth. "Oh, god, I’m…" Her fingers tangled hard in his hair, and she groaned. He'd never believed in fate. Or that things happened for a reason.
But Hopper…Felicity…Zadie…this?
Lifting his head, he circled his thumb gently over her clit and watched her face as she bit down on her lower lip, her eyelids fluttered closed as she moaned.
This was exactly where he was supposed to be and Zadie was…fate. She was everything.
Her muscles quivered, and she was so close. He inserted two fingers and she immediately tightened around him.
He lowered his head, flicking his tongue across her, and she exploded again as her legs clamped down around his face.
She held him there for a long moment before she shuddered, sighed, and released her grip.
He kissed the soft, shaking skin of her stomach and drew back, chest heaving, mouth wet, proud and half-wild with it.
"Kiss me." She yanked him on top of her and kissed him hard. Her hands were everywhere—his shoulders, down his back, inching into his jeans. "Get out of these things," she said. "It’s my turn."
He shoved his jeans down, rough with haste, because he couldn’t deny Zadie anything. His belt clanged against the floor. The room felt warmer and lamplight pooled over her skin.
He reached toward the nightstand, closing his fingers around the edge of the drawer, digging inside, and pulling out the condom.
"Give that to me," she said, voice low enough to hum through him.
He set the foil in her palm.
She sat up, knees bracketing his hips, and stroked him with a slow surety that made his breath lock. He caught himself on the headboard with one hand as she set the condom aside.
He rested his forehead to hers for a second, just to pull air into his lungs. Her mouth curved. She shifted, nudging him back. She followed, bending over him, hair falling in a dark curtain against his chest.
"I said, my turn." She kissed a line from his collarbone lower, open-mouthed, and a little greedy. He felt every scrape of her teeth like an electric pulse. He flexed his hands uselessly in the sheets while she dragged her tongue along the cut of his abdomen, then took him in her hand again and stroked him slowly, teasingly, her finger pressing just enough to short-circuiting his thoughts.
"Zadie," he said, or tried to.
She exhaled, her breath hot against the head of his cock and then closed her mouth over him. Hot. Wet. The soft pull of her lips and the slick slide of her tongue dragged him headlong into a sea of unrelenting sensation, and he lost the fight to keep himself quiet.
He forced his eyes open because not watching would’ve been a crime he couldn’t live with. He'd never been a selfish lover. But he'd also never been with anyone like Zadie before. She was special. Unique. And not because of what she was doing to him, but because how she gave herself to him. How she shared her vulnerability. Her strength.
Mostly, how she was always herself, even in the most impossible situations.
He reached down, stroked her hair back. His thighs tightened. His toes curled. He wasn’t going to last. Not like this. Not tonight. Not with how she made him feel… everything. She’s mended so many wounds with a simple touch.
He drew her up with hands that were shakier than he liked. He kissed her, rough and grateful. Again, not for the act, but the emotion that came with it. The connection they'd made. He'd been lost, and she'd found him. He didn’t want to ever let her go.
She broke off the kiss, reached for the condom, and before he could catch his breath, she was rolling it over him.
"Tell me," he said, voice hoarse. "How you want it."
"Like this," she whispered, as she straddled him, and he sank into her like a slow exhale.
He gripped her hips and held on as she settled, taking him all the way. They both went still for a heartbeat. He could feel his own pulse in his throat, in his wrists, in the way she squeezed around him.
