Only for You

41: A Seat at the Table

Their bodies moved with urgency, lips colliding in heated kisses as Zac's hands roamed her curves, gripping and exploring like he couldn't get enough. Fatima moaned softly when his lips found her neck, her fingers threading over his hair. The moment they stepped into the bedroom, their movements became more frantic—her coat slipping from her shoulders, his jacket tossed aside.

Zac's hands went to his belt, but Fatima caught his wrist, her gaze dark with mischief. "Keep the chain on," she murmured, running her fingers along the cool metal against his chest.

He smirked, catching onto her meaning. "Oh, you like when it hits you against the head, huh?"

She giggled, tapping the back of her head playfully. "Yeah, I like that."

His eyes darkened. "Oh, you about to get this Zac-quail. Turn that ass around."

Fatima's laughter turned into a breathless gasp as she obeyed, her pulse quickening when he pushed her onto the bed. The heat between them was undeniable, electric. Zac pressed against her, his body a firm, commanding presence behind her, and when his palm landed on her ass, a teasing slap that sent a shiver down her spine, she let out a soft moan.

The afternoon was far from over.
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Fatima lay sprawled across the bed, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as Zac's lips traced slow, deliberate patterns against her skin. Every touch sent waves of heat through her, her fingers running over his hair as she arched against him.

"Zac..." she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, heavy with pleasure.

He smirked against her skin, his hands gripping her thighs, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. "I got you, baby," he murmured, his voice deep, smooth, and full of promise.

Fatima's head tipped back against the pillows, her body trembling under his relentless attention. It wasn't just what he was doing—it was the way he did it, the way he worshipped her, like he was savoring every reaction, every sound she made.

Her fingers clutched at the sheets, her breathing ragged as his touch grew more intense. "Zac... baby, please..."

He lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze, his dark eyes smoldering. "I love seeing you like this," he murmured, pressing a kiss against her inner thigh. "Losing yourself in me."

She whimpered, her body melting under his touch, completely at his mercy.

Zac grinned, proud of how undone she was. "You taste so damn good, baby," he groaned before diving back in, determined to pull her even further into bliss.

And when she finally came undone, her body trembling, her breath hitching, Zac pressed a lingering kiss to her hip, his grip tightening around her thighs as he whispered against her skin, "Merry Christmas, baby."

Zac didn't let up. If anything, her trembling only spurred him on, his grip tightening as he held her exactly where he wanted her. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, dragging out every last ounce of pleasure he could pull from her.

Fatima gasped, her back arching off the bed as a sharp wave of sensation coursed through her. "Zac—" Her voice broke, her fingers digging into the sheets as she squirmed beneath him.

He smirked against her, satisfied with the way she writhed, with the way she couldn't stay still. "What's wrong, baby?" he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "Too much?"

Fatima whimpered, her thighs trying to squeeze shut, but he didn't let her. Zac's hands kept her open, his tongue flicking against her clit with a rhythm that had her entire body shaking.