Chapter 148 – Ivan
This is exactly how we got ourselves into this situation in the first place—this bloody, unstoppable lust.
But I can't stop. Not now. Not when it's been so long.
Every muscle in my body hums with need as I brace my hands on Zander's abdomen, feeling the flex of his taut stomach beneath my palms. He's warm and solid, grounding me even as we spiral. I shift my hips and sink down further, taking him deeper, my breath catching as I feel him everywhere inside me. My pulse stutters and races.
I don't know when we'll have time for this again.So I'm going to make it count.
It's dizzying, overwhelming—and amazing.
A helpless sound tears from my throat as I move, riding him with a rhythm that's more frantic than graceful. My body aches with it, my thighs trembling, but the burn only drives me higher. I reach up, pinching my sensitive nipples with shaking fingers, sparks of pleasure shooting through me.
Zander groans beneath me, his voice rough and low, like he's barely holding himself together.
"God, Ivan…" His hands clamp around my hips, and suddenly we're both moving each other, meeting in a desperate, messy rhythm. He's guiding me, using me, and I'm using him right back, lost to the need clawing through both of us.
The sound of our bodies meeting fills the room, mixed with our ragged breathing and the occasional sharp cry I can't hold back. Sweat slicks my spine; my hair clings damply to my forehead. Zander looks up at me like I'm something holy, his hazy eyes burning into mine with love and hunger all tangled up.
"Touch me," I gasp, voice breaking.
"I'm close."
He doesn't hesitate. One of his hands slides from my hip, wrapping around me in a firm, practiced grip. His touch is rough, in perfect rhythm with his thrusts below. Each stroke sends shockwaves through me; each deep, hungry push of his hips makes my vision spark white.
"Beautiful," he rasps, voice unsteady.
"You're incredible."
I can't even answer. My breath catches in my chest, my head tilting back as the tension builds fast and sharp, coiling tight. His other hand digs into my hip, urging me faster, deeper, until I'm unraveling.
The world tilts and blurs as my climax rips through me. My body trembles violently, a choked-off sound tearing from my throat as pleasure floods me. Zander strokes me through it, coaxing out every last shudder as I cling to him, barely aware of the words spilling from my lips—his name, whispered like a plea and a prayer.
But Zander doesn't stop.
Even as my body quivers with aftershocks, he's still moving beneath me, his face tight with concentration, chasing his own high. The sounds he makes—low groans, guttural gasps—send another shiver down my spine. He's close, I can feel it in the way his rhythm falters, the way his grip on my hips turns almost bruising.
I collapse forward, pressing my forehead to his shoulder, my arms wrapping around his neck for balance as he takes over the rhythm completely. Each push is hungry, claiming, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding back just a little longer.
"Ivan…" My name is a broken whisper in my ear, almost reverent. "I can't—"
"Don't hold back," I breathe, my voice hoarse and trembling.
"I want all of it. Please."
He groans, and that's the last thread of control snapping. His thrusts turn erratic, messy, desperate. His arms wrap tight around me, holding me like he's afraid I'll disappear, and the raw emotion in that touch almost undoes me all over again.
The room spins with the intensity of it. The world narrows to the feel of him moving inside me, the heat of his breath against my neck, the way he whispers my name like it's the only word he's ever known.
When he finally lets go, his entire body locks up beneath me, a shudder wracking him from head to toe. His voice breaks on a low groan, and he buries his face in my shoulder as if the feeling is too much.
I hold him through it, stroking the back of his neck, kissing his temple. My own body still trembles, oversensitive and spent, but I wouldn't trade this for anything.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. Our breaths are uneven; the room smells of heat and sweat and love. My heart is pounding like I've run a marathon, and from the way Zander clings to me, his is too.
I lie draped across his chest, heart still racing as I try to catch my breath. His skin is warm and damp under my cheek, the steady thump of his heartbeat grounding me. Both my legs are still hooked around his hips, lazily clinging to him like I'm afraid to break this spell. His scent—his pheromones—is thick in the air, wrapping around me, pulling me under again.
This is probably why I'm like this. Why I can't get enough of him. He's addictive. Everything about him is addictive.
His hand strokes slow circles along my lower back, grounding and teasing all at once. "I can't believe we lasted so long without this," he murmurs, voice still rough from earlier, a mix of awe and complaint.
"You know," I say between small chuckles, "they say there's more to relationships than just sex."
"Sure," he agrees with a lazy smirk I can hear in his voice, "but sex is a really bloody important aspect of a relationship."
I laugh softly at that, tilting my head to look up at him.He looks like sin and home all at once, and my chest squeezes at the sight.
We lie there in silence for a few minutes, just breathing each other in. My fingers absentmindedly trace over his ribs, memorizing him all over again. Finally, I ask, "How much longer do we have?"
He doesn't answer right away. Instead, I feel him shift slightly beneath me, and then I notice it—him getting hard again, the heat of it pressing against me even in this messy tangle of limbs.
His lips graze my temple as he whispers, voice low and mischievous, "We can squeeze in a couple more minutes, I'm sure."
A helpless laugh bubbles out of me. "Yeah," I murmur, leaning up to kiss him again, unable to resist. The kiss starts soft, almost sweet, but it deepens fast, the way it always does with us—messy, needy, like neither of us is ready to let go yet.