Imagine sex with Zayne in his office, riding him as he leans back against the sofa by the window.
The lights are off, and he looks devastatingly beautiful beneath you like this, with the twinkling backdrop of Linkon's skyline gleaming behind him and shadows dancing across the angles of his face. His eyes are dark with a barely tempered hunger as he drinks in the sight of you moving on top of him.
You've been right on that delicate edge of release for so long, too long—so close to falling apart but not nearly ready for this to be over. Your thighs ache from the effort it takes to hold yourself back as you roll your hips forward and back, but you push through it and keep your pace, slow and patient. Torturously so. Exactly the way Zayne loves it.
You're not entirely sure how long you've been at it. It's so late that you also aren't even sure what time it is. What you do know is that you should be at home, in bed, not half-dressed in a place where you could be interrupted at any moment.
That would be the responsible thing to do.
But this? This is everything you live for. Stolen moments of intimacy. Unspoken truths hidden within every fragile moan that scrapes past his throat. The knowledge that he'd wanted you so badly it just couldn't wait, that he'd needed you to ride his cock now, right fucking now—
Zayne always works himself to the bone. Always puts everyone else's needs before his own, whether it's late into the night, or on his precious few days off, or even when it comes to you. He's always taken such good care of you in every possible way, so selfless that it makes your heart ache.
And so after another particularly long shift at the hospital, you love being able to take care of him too—in the way only you ever could.
Slowly, Zayne slides his hands up your sides. You watch as he gazes down between your bodies, and you look down too, whimpering as you're confronted by just how far gone you really are. You're mesmerized by the sensual rhythm of your own hips, the way the muscles in your abdomen twitch and flutter as you desperately try to stave off your orgasm.
"You've been such a good girl for me," he whispers in that soft, tender way he saves for you. His breath catches when you clench around him in response, and then he laughs, because he just can't help himself. "Mmhh—that's right. You enjoy it when I remind you, don't you?"
You barely stifle your next whimper, cheeks burning from his teasing. He really is such a menace when he knows you're right about to fall apart, and you're so ready to unravel you could cry.
But before the tears can gather along your lashes, Zayne suddenly sits up straighter. He presses his chest flush to yours and finds yours gaze as he releases a shuddering breath.
"It's all right," he reassures you. A faint smile still touches his lips. "Let go for me, my love."
He grabs your ass to help you move, and the change in angle is exactly what you've been missing. You can feel him even deeper than before, the head of his cock kissing that devious spot inside you that never fails to send you hurtling over the edge.
"Zayne!" you gasp, weaving your fingers through his hair. "I—I can't—"
"Yes you can." His voice tethers you to the moment and keeps you from drifting away, pulling you toward the finish line. "Come with me—just like this—"
You're lost in each other now, frantic and wanting, gasping breaths and sweet, unrestrained sounds of pleasure filling the air as you bring each other to completion. You let your head tip back as you cry out and your entire body trembles in ecstasy. Zayne works you through it, drawing you down even harder against him, and when he follows you into bliss it's with a bitten-off groan of your name against your throat.
The world around you gradually comes back into focus, piece by piece. The city lights. Zayne's office furniture. The crisp fabric of his dress shirt against your bare skin. You let go of his hair and slump forward into his embrace, and he lets out a deep sigh, gently running his fingers down your back. All the tension he'd been carrying when you first arrived dissolves as he holds you.
"Mm." He trails his lips from your neck to your jaw. "You really are," he murmurs between kisses, "the best medicine."
His praise sends a slow shiver crawling down your spine. You hum quietly and tilt your head to the side to allow him more space. As he kisses you, Zayne moves his hands across your thighs and gently kneads your sore muscles.
"Are you okay?" He doesn't wait for your answer, already applying a little more pressure. "I'll give you a proper massage when we get home."
You smile and hug him tighter. Yes, of course—of course he will.
Because that's the Zayne you know and love.
