Treacherous

“Relax.” He smiles, leaning forward to grip the waistband of my leggings. “If you want me to stop, just say the words.”

I nod, unable to voice my desire as Zayden shimmies my pants over my hips and down my legs, leaning back so he can remove them completely. My instinct is to cover myself, but before I can move my hand, Zayden stops me, pushing it away.

“I’ll leave them on.” His eyes dart to my panties before coming back to my face. “This time.” He grins wickedly.

“Okay.” My is voice barely audible as Zayden shifts, finally settling next to me on his side.

While a part of me is relieved to still have a small barrier between us, the other part wishes he would just strip me bare and make love to me the way I’ve been dreaming of since the first moment I laid eyes on him. I know all I have to do is ask. I know the power rests solely with me. But I also know that if I let myself make a rash decision in the heat of the moment; I may live to regret it.

Zayden’s fingers start at my thigh, slowly swirling the soft skin leading to my center. I swear I forget how to breathe. The anticipation is enough to make me feel like I’m dangling over a cliff, about to plummet to my death at any moment.

When his hand dips inside my panties, I feel like my heart is second

s away from beating out of my chest.

I thought I knew what this would be like—I’ve touched myself enough to know what it feels like to be touched—but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Nothing could have prepared me for the onslaught of pleasure that overtakes me the instant Zayden’s fingers are on me.

He slides through my folds with ease—the evidence of my arousal undeniable. I’m not sure if I want to laugh, cry, or scream when he slides a single finger inside of me, quickly followed by another. Several emotions surge through me, but I can’t get a grip on a single one.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his fingers into me as far as they will go. “You’re so fucking tight.” He nips at my jaw.

I have no words. I don’t think I could speak even if I tried. And while I may be a little timid around Zayden, once his hand starts to move, I move right along with him—shamelessly riding his hand.

I can’t help it. It feels too good not to.

When he extends his thumb and presses it against my clit, I nearly come undone. Pleasure rockets through me like tiny fireworks going off, one after the other. I grip the sheets, holding on for dear life. When Zayden pulls my earlobe into his mouth and groans—a deep gritty sound- it brings my orgasm screaming to the surface.

“Zayden,” I whimper, knowing I’m seconds away from being past the point of no return.

“Come for me, Rylee.” His voice is husky, heavy with lust. “I want to feel you pulse around my fingers.”

“Oh God!” The words rip from my throat as an orgasm unlike anything I have ever felt before tears through me.

My body arches and my legs flail as waves of pleasure roll through me one after the other, so intense it’s borderline painful.

Zayden’s fingers continue to work as he silences me with a kiss. The feeling coursing through me becomes that much more overwhelming. I’m absolute putty in his hands, and I’m positive that he knows it, too.

“You have to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he tells me, pulling back to watch my face as his hand stills and he slowly removes his fingers. Sliding them up and over my clit, he pulls his hand out of my panties.

What he does next nearly knocks me right off the bed. He lifts his hand to his mouth and sucks the desire off of his fingers, one at a time.

“Fuck. Even better than I imagined,” he groans, leaning in to kiss me again so that I can taste myself.

It’s the single most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced and instantly has me wanting to do it all over again.

I’ve heard stories from friends who have been with guys. Everyone swore that having a guy touch you was so much different than touching yourself, but I always had my doubts. How could it really be that different?

My God was I wrong. Zayden touching me is nothing like me touching myself. And the orgasm—I don’t think I could ever put into words how incredible it was. Mind blowing doesn’t even begin to cover what I experienced. More like life changing. Because now that I’ve felt the power of Zayden’s touch, I don’t ever want him to stop.

Unfortunately, the perfect moment is broken when Taylor Swift’s voice starts blaring from my phone. Because I have assigned ring tones for certain people—like my mom—I usually know who’s calling before I look.

“Crap.” I let out a frustrated noise. “That’s my mom.”

“Let it go to voicemail,” he murmurs against my mouth, grazing his teeth over my bottom lip.

“She’ll just keep calling if I don’t answer,” I reluctantly tell him. And I mean it honestly—she really will keep calling.

Even though I can tell he doesn’t want to, Zayden releases his hold on me and rolls to his back.