Scene: Breaking Point
Aliya tried to breathe, but Zayren’s hand was already between her thighs, under her skirt, two fingers grazing the soaked fabric of her panties.
His voice was dark silk. “You’re drenched.”
She whimpered, thighs clenching instinctively around his wrist. His thumb pressed against her clit through the fabric—firm, slow.
She jerked. “Zayren—”
His mouth was at her ear, voice sinful. “Shhh. You don’t want the windows fogged up from your moaning, do you?”
He slid the fabric aside—bare skin now. His fingers stroked once, lazy and deliberate.
Aliya’s head fell back. “F-Fuck…”
“Say it again,” he growled, thrusting two fingers inside her without warning.
Her whole body arched into him, nails digging into his shoulders. The stretch, the suddenness—it shattered something inside her.
“Fuck—Zayren, oh my God—”
His pace was brutal, his fingers relentless, curling exactly where she needed. His other hand yanked her bra down, mouth clamping around her nipple, sucking hard.
Her thighs began to tremble.
“Already?” he murmured against her breast. “You’re about to come just like this?”
Aliya gasped, body convulsing as the pressure built, and built, until—
“Look at me when you come,” he ordered.
She did.
And the second their eyes locked—she shattered.
Her moan was guttural, raw, her body writhing against him as waves crashed through her. Zayren held her there, his mouth at her neck, whispering filth into her skin.
“You’ll never forget how I make you fall apart. Never.”
When her breathing slowed, his fingers slid out—slow, dripping with her arousal.
He brought them to his mouth.
Sucked them clean.
Eyes locked on hers.
“Next time,” he said darkly, “it’ll be my cock making you scream.”
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