Page 21 of Finding Haven (Haven #2)

Quinn

Zack Mercer is a freakin’ god.

I used to think that stars bursting behind your eyes was just something written in romance novels, and yet this man brought me the whole damn galaxy with the flick of his tongue and the curling of his fingers.

The cool marble of the countertop is a welcome relief against my heated skin, but I’m desperate to get off of it.

Slipping off the counter, I reach for the belt around his waist, unfastening it but not bothering to pull it free from the belt loops.

My fingers work to unbutton his jeans and lower the zipper, sliding them over his hips and letting them fall to the floor.

I watch as he kicks them aside in one swift movement.

My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight of his hard cock straining against the fabric of his black boxer briefs.

I move my hands to his waist and scrape my teeth over my bottom lip as liquid heat rushes to my core at the mere idea of seeing him fully exposed to me.

Glancing up to meet his gaze, I slowly begin to lower myself to my knees, aching to get my mouth on him.

He reaches out to grab me, halting my movements.

“Not here,” he grunts, taking my hand in his as he leads me out of the kitchen and into the living room.

He releases my hand as he sinks onto the couch, grabbing a throw pillow from beside him and tossing it to the ground at his feet.

“If you’re going to be on your knees for me, you’re going to do it comfortably. ”

I brace my hands on his thighs as I lower to my knees, nails scraping over the fabric still covering him. His body responds to my touch, and I watch as he leans back and spread his legs wide, allowing me to move in closer as my fingers curl around the waistband of his briefs.

“Take my cock out, Sugar.” His voice is a rough command that makes me want to obey him without hesitation.

He lifts his hips as I drag his boxer briefs down his legs and toss them to the side.

His cock slaps against his muscled abdomen, thick and straining with that prominent vein that runs along the underside as a pearlescent bead of pre-cum pools at the tip.

I’ve never taken my time to truly admire a man’s body the way I’m admiring his right now.

A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as I glance up at him.

My eyes slowly travel from the soft, black curls that hang over his forehead, to his warm amber eyes, down the bare expanse of his chest and over the large phoenix inked across one side of his ribs.

His cock pulses as I give myself free rein to look over his body.

There’s an ache at the apex of my thighs flaring back to life as my eyes follow the faint line of dark hair that leads from beneath his navel to his pubic bone where the hair around the base of his cock has been trimmed to nearly nothing.

Flames flicker behind his gaze as I wrap my hand around his shaft and lean forward, swiping the flat of my tongue across the head of his cock.

His head tips back with a groan before he looks down at me and reaches forward, using a hand to gather my hair in his fist to hold it out of my way.

I swirl my tongue around the tip of him, licking away the pre-cum that’s pooled there before I slowly sink my mouth down.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, his hips lifting slightly as he pushes farther into my mouth. “You look so fucking hot with my dick in your mouth.”

His praise sends sparks of electricity crackling over my body, lighting me up from the inside.

Feeling feral with his encouraging words, I flatten my hand at the base and take more of him into my mouth.

My eyes water as the head of his cock hits the back of my throat.

Fighting the reflex to gag, I pull back and begin to stroke my fist along his length, working in tandem with my mouth.

I can feel his thighs tense beneath me, holding himself back from thrusting his hips up and taking what he wants.

Not wanting him to restrain himself, I pop my mouth off of him and meet his gaze, raking my nails over one thigh while my other hand twists around his shaft.

“Don’t hold back. I can take it,” I tell him, dragging the flat of my tongue across the tip of his cock before guiding his crown between my lips, flicking my tongue over the sensitive spot just beneath the head.

A deep groan rips from Zack’s chest, as he moves his other hand to grasp my hair.

He holds my face between his hands as he thrusts up into my mouth.

I tighten my lips around him as he pushes deeper, the pressure causing tears to form in the corner of my eyes.

His cock swells against my tongue as he bites out a harsh, “Fuck, Quinn. You’re gonna make me come.

” He barely has a chance to get the words out before his release floods my mouth.

His head tips back as his cum paints the back of my throat, a gravel-laced groan rumbling from his chest .

I swallow, pulling more harsh sounds from him as his dick pulses against my tongue.

Swirling my tongue around him, I make sure to capture every last drop and swallow before I pull back and meet his gaze.

His chest heaves with panting breaths as his fingers loosen from my hair.

He glides a hand down to my jaw and swipes his thumb across my lower lip, gathering any remnants of his release before he pushes it into my mouth, encouraging me to suck it clean.

His warm whiskey eyes are transfixed on my mouth as he wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me towards him. This time, the kiss he presses to my lips is soft and sweet.

Zack takes my hands in his and stands from the couch, guiding me up from where I had been kneeling between his legs on the floor.

Silence stretches between us, our gazes locked on one another.

Neither one of us seems to want to look away, but the longer we stand here, the more aware I am that we’re now standing naked in his living room, most of our clothing discarded in the kitchen.

Not even twenty-four hours ago, this man was just a fantasy.

He was a faceless stranger who offered up kind words and somehow made me feel seen despite the mask I wore on camera.

A gentleman who made me feel less alone after a bad date.

Now he’s the man who has flipped my world upside down with a mind-blowing orgasm.

Now he’s mine.

At least, I want him to be. But I don’t know how to even begin a conversation like that. And I’m really not ready for the rejection that could follow.

I don’t think he would be cruel in any way.

He doesn’t seem to be that kind of man, and he has done nothing to make me believe otherwise.

From what little information I have gathered so far, Zack is guarded.

He has walls, possibly even a fortress built around his heart, and I’m not exactly in a position to ask why.

“I, um. . . Bathroom?” Great. I’ve never been the type of person to be found speechless, and now my brain chooses this precise moment to run out of words and the ability to form complete sentences.

“Down the hall, first door on your left.” He nods his chin in that direction as his fingers graze over my bare shoulders. The sensation sends a wave of goosebumps peppering along my skin, making me shiver as I step away from him.

I can feel the heat of his gaze on me as I saunter away from him, throwing a little extra sway into my hips. If he’s going to look, I might as well give him a little show.

The bathroom is easy enough to find, and it’s just as immaculate as the rest of his home.

It’s a full size, but the shower is devoid of any necessities, no soap, shampoo, or bath towels in sight.

He told me that I was the first woman he’s ever brought home, and I would be willing to bet it’s not just women that he hasn’t allowed into his home.

Needing a few minutes to myself, I take my time splashing cold water over my face and down my neck, attempting to calm my heated skin.

My hair is a mess, but without a brush, there’s only so much taming that finger-combing the strands will do.

Standing in front of the large mirror that hangs above the marble counter, a sinking feeling coils in the pit of my stomach as I realize I’ll have to walk back out there naked.

It’s easy to feel confident when I’m alone in a room with just my camera or even in the heat of a passion-filled moment.

But now that the tension and desire sparking between us have been satiated, walking back into his living room without a stitch of clothing on feels like an entirely different form of vulnerability.

A soft knock on the door startles me, and I flinch at the unexpected sound. “I brought you your clothes,” Zack says from the other side. “I would be more than happy to keep you naked in my home, but I thought you might want to get dressed.”

Butterflies flutter in my stomach at his thoughtful gesture. This thing between us is new, and somehow, I feel like Zack Mercer already knows me better than anyone else.

I take a deep breath and pull my shoulders back, standing tall as I open the door.

Zack is standing there in nothing but his dark briefs, holding my clothes as I watch his lips part, mouth dropping open as he takes me in.

His dark eyes drag over my naked body, slowly moving down from my eyes to my breasts, the swell of my stomach, my hips, and the apex of my thighs before he pulls them back up to meet my gaze.

His cheeks redden as he stretches his arms out, handing me my clothing.

“Thank you,” I murmur, unable to find more words than that after the way he was just looking at me.

“Take your time,” he says, his eyes raking over my body once more before he turns and walks away, disappearing back down the hall.

I’m feeling a little steadier on my feet by the time I emerge fully dressed, aside from the pair of panties that seem to have magically disappeared.

I find Zack standing at the large wall of windows, looking out over the rolling waves.

His home sits close enough to the water that I’m sure we would be able to hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore if the windows were open .

I walk towards him slowly, not wanting to disrupt him from the trance he seems to be in.

But of course, because I was purposely trying to be quiet, I trip over my own two feet and stumble forward.

I manage to catch myself and avoid completely falling to the ground just in time to see his back stiffen as he hears me approaching.

He turns slightly towards me, two coffee mugs in his hands.

He hands one to me, his gaze burning into me as the heat of the mug instantly warms my hands.

“What is this?” I ask, raising the mug and inhaling the sweet subtle scent.

“Chamomile,” he murmurs. “It’s supposed to be good for a sore throat.” A knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he takes a drink from his own mug. “I have a couple different options for sweeteners, if you’d like.”

Heat rises to my cheeks as I take a sip.

I’ve never really been a big fan of tea.

I don’t necessarily dislike it, it just doesn’t have enough of a flavor for it to be worth drinking.

But the fact that he took the time to make this for me, thinking it would help ease the slight discomfort in my throat from having his cock in my mouth, sends a different kind of warmth coursing through my body.