trembling pleasure in her cunt. He pulled her hard against him, and she felt the damp fabric of her underwear draw tight over her folds. Fuck. Fuck. Thirty seconds of making out on the sofa like teenagers, and she was already fighting the urge to shove him onto his back and sit on his face.
Oshun, I’m sorry I ever doubted you.
Even sorrier that she had him for just a few weeks. But she wouldn’t think about that right now—wouldn’t remember the odd pang that had hit her when he’d laid out his first condition. Like she’d said, Dani didn’t do forever.
A strange melancholy nipped at the heels of her lust, but then Zaf bit her lower lip and squeezed her jaw—just enough to say, Me. You’re with me. So come back. And she did, delicious tension squeezing her core, desire pooling thick and sweet as honey.
Faintly, she murmured against his mouth, “Are you a sex wizard?”
His laughter was strained, as if he didn’t have enough air in his lungs to do it properly. “No. But I’ve been thinking about this for a long fucking time.”
Her breath hitched in her throat, and she pulled back slightly. “How long?”
“Long enough,” he said, low and rough, “that I’ve thought of a thousand ways to kiss you. So let me.”
Let me. She slid her fingers into the raw silk of his hair and pulled him closer. He slipped his hands under her shirt, high enough to cradle her ribcage. And then he stopped.
“Touch me.” Her voice was tight with need.
“I want to take this off,” he rasped, tugging at her T-shirt.
“So take it off. And take yours off, while you’re at it.” She dragged at his shirt, and then they broke apart enough to fumble with their clothes until they were both bare-chested and panting. Zaf was as gorgeous as she’d known he would be, big and strong and golden, with a wealth of chest hair that arrowed down to the bulge in his jeans. His eyes seemed almost black as he watched her, his lips slick and parted. He looked like sin and sex and hers.
“Fuck, Danika,” he breathed, his fingertips skating over the stretch marks on her hips. “You’re so . . .”
“What?”
“Beautiful,” he said softly, so softly she almost didn’t hear. Wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard, because the word shook with a reverence that shouldn’t be there, that shouldn’t fill her up inside. She’d never been so conscious of her own breath before, of the rise and fall of her tits and the shift of her lungs and the movement of her belly. But everywhere Zaf looked at her felt realer than before—almost too real, teetering on the line between intensity and discomfort.
Dani liked walking that line, if the wet fabric clinging to her pussy was any indication.
Zaf’s palms slid up over her rounded belly, and then his thumbs caressed the sensitive undersides of her breasts.
“Christ,” she groaned, pleasure igniting over her skin.
“Like that?” Their gazes held as he stroked his thumbs over her tight, needy nipples. Then he pinched gently, and sweet relief sparked through her, quickly followed by even more tension than before. She leaned forward, pressing her brow against his, trapping them both in a world of heat and skin and soft, slow moans.
“Tell me,” he murmured, rolling her nipples between finger and thumb. “Tell me you like it.”
Each quick circle tightened the coil inside her so violently that she could barely speak. “Yes,” she gasped as he kissed her jaw. “Yes, I like it.” Pleasure pulsed through her clit until she had to slide a hand beneath the waistband of her shorts.
She felt his lashes flutter against her skin as he looked down.
“Are you touching yourself?” he asked, an edge to his voice that sounded like urgency.
She spread her legs wider and eased her middle finger through hot, slippery folds. “Yes.”
“Want some help?” His voice was slow, velvet sin.
She rubbed her clit frantically, her breaths labored. “Fuck, yes. Please.”
“Stand up, then.” He leaned back, watching her like an animal waiting to strike. She stood and shoved off her shorts and her underwear in one fast, thoughtless, unsexy move, and his jaw clenched so tight she worried it might break. His hips lifted, just a bit, as if he’d started to thrust against thin air and had barely managed to stop himself. “Turn around,” he said, his voice like iron.
She turned, and saw her altar, and the statue of Oshun, and thought, Thank you, universe, for sending