Page 11 of Honor and Claim (A New Reign #2)

Chapter Eleven

COSIMA

I can’t deny what he’s saying, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. I did want him to chase. What girl doesn’t?

The whole reason I didn’t let Marks check my phone again was because I was scared to find out he wasn’t still watching over me in his own way, which I’m starting to think is a whole lot deeper than I ever realized. But what I’m not getting is why.

“Why are you doing this? I can’t escape you, but you treat me like shit.” I lean my head all the way back so that I can look up into his eyes. Z flinches for the first time, giving me an emotion that isn’t pure intensity because that is all I have felt since we walked in the door.

I go to step back, needing his hand off me. His thumb is still gently stroking my cheek, and it’s hard to think when he’s being sweet—okay, kind of sweet. Z doesn’t let me move, but his hand does drop from my cheek, only to cup the back of my neck, keeping me firmly in place.

“I’ve missed you.”

I grit my teeth, trying to get my anger in check, but it only lasts for a second, maybe only a tenth of a second. “Bullshit.”

“I know I fucked up.”

“You fucked up?” I repeat, getting louder. “You fucked up!” I mean, the man left me a note after he took my virginity. That has to count as more than fucking up.

“Stop saying fuck.” There is a warning in his tone.

Z is different. I can see it in his eyes and feel it in his touches. There is an edge to him I have never seen before. There are no jokes or teasing. In fact, he’s been laying out threats.

“Why?” I challenge, wanting to poke him any way that I can. His hold only on my neck tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s making it clear he’s got me where he wants me.

“Because it’s going to get you fucked.” I can feel my heart start to thump in my chest and an ache forms between my thighs. I hate that my body reacts to him even when I'm upset.

Don’t do it, Cosima , I warn myself, but damn, I know I’m going to lose even a battle with myself. My mouth has a way of getting away from me.

“Fuck you.” The words are barely out of my mouth before Z’s is crashing down onto mine in a hard kiss. I push against his chest, trying to fight a battle I know I’m going to lose, not only because of Z but myself. As much as I want to be pissed at him—and I am—I want this too.

I am reluctant, yet my lips part for him, Z’s tongue thrusting into my mouth. My fingers dig into the front of his shirt, no longer fighting it. No, I push my body into his as heat floods through me, need and desire pooling deep in my stomach.

Z’s hands go to my ass, lifting me off my feet. I wrap my legs around him. “I hate you,” I say, sinking my teeth into his bottom lip. He grunts, pushing me up against a wall.

“Watch it, sweetness.”

“I don’t hate you, but I want to.”

“I know.” He kisses me again. I sink my fingers into his short hair as my tongue strokes against his.

My hips move, and Z shifts, lining up his hard cock with my sex.

I whimper when he thrusts, making his cock rub against my clit.

My body instinctively moves with his, knowing exactly who it belongs to.

“Z.” I gasp. “I need?—”

“Me.” His mouth goes to my neck, licking and sucking. “You need me.” I grip his hair tighter, mad that he’s right. “Say it.”

“I need you.” I give, wanting to please him.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers into my ear.

The way he says it makes it sound so erotic, but maybe it only sounds that way because I want to be his girl so badly.

I always have. There has only ever been Z for me for as long as I can remember.

I tried for years to push down those feelings, but there was no denying them.

Z moves, carrying me through the villa, his mouth never leaving my neck.

He goes straight for my room, kicking the door closed behind him before tossing me onto the bed.

I watch as he pulls his shirt off over his head, dropping it to the floor before toeing off his shoes next.

Holy crap. Last time we were together, I didn’t get the chance to really enjoy the view.

Why the hell does he have to be so damn handsome? Everything about him turns me on.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you. That’s what I’m doing.”

"No, I'm mad at you." I lick my lips.

"You can fight me if it makes you feel better." He smirks, actually freaking smirks! Damn, it's hot too. "You want to fight me?"

"Maybe." I press my thighs together; that idea is hotter than it should be.

"You sure?" He steps closer, coming to stand on the side of the bed. I have to drop my head back to stare up at him. He towers over me when I’m standing, never mind when I’m sitting down.

Z's fingers slide gently through my hair before fisting a handful and tugging my head back more. "Be really sure."

My heart is now pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it too.

“Fuck you.”

Z’s nose flares; his hand tugs again, harder, making me gasp. “I’ll make you sweet again,” he says before releasing his hold on my hair. I remember him repeatedly calling me "sweetness" during the night we spent together.

“You can—” My words are cut off when Z grabs me by the hips, easily flipping me onto my stomach as if I weigh nothing. “What are you doing?” I wiggle, trying to move, but he has a hand on my lower back, keeping me in place.

“I’m doing whatever I want to.” He flips up my skirt, yanking my panties down my thighs. “Keep still,” Z orders. I obviously do the opposite and keep trying to move. I gasp when he yanks me down the bed so that I’m bent over it. His hand comes down on my ass. I let out a loud gasp.

“You spanked me.” Did he really spank me? More importantly, why do I want him to do it again?

"Spread your legs," he orders, already kneeing them apart before I can do anything. His hand comes down on my ass again. This time the other cheek. "When I tell you to do something, you do it."

"Go fuck yourself." Z's hand gently strokes my bottom where he spanked.

"I have been fucking myself, but now you're here, so I'm going to fuck you."

"Oh God." I try to close my legs again, not because I don't want him there. My clit is starting to ache, and I need the friction.

"Knock it off." His hand comes down on my ass again.

"Okay." I try to be still.

Z's hand drifts down lower to between my thighs.

"This is for me." He cups my sex, and I know he can feel how turned on I am. It coats my thighs. One finger strokes over the seam of my sex, making sure not to touch my clit. I try to lift my hips, but when I do, his hand stops moving altogether. He’s drawing this out.

I both love and hate it at the same time.

“Sweetness,” he warns.

“Z, I ache,” I plead with him.

“Then be a good girl and do as you’re told, and I’ll make it better.” I dig my fingers into the comforter. My natural instincts are to talk back to him. That has been the standard for years between us, but I know that won’t get me what I want.

“I’ll be good,” I whisper, resigning myself to giving him total control. For now.

“Liar.”

“I’ll try to be good.” I peek over my shoulder to see he has dropped down to one knee, his attention between my thighs. A rush of heat fills my cheeks. I shouldn’t be shy because it’s not like he hasn’t seen me before.

“Spread those thighs wider for me, sweetness.” His finger dips between the folds of my sex. “Show me this pretty pussy that needs me.”

I suck in a breath at his filthy words, parting my legs for him more. “That’s my sweet girl.” Z’s fingers delve between my folds, stroking my clit. My ass lifts off the bed.

“I’m sorry, I can’t control it.” I feel him shift his hand, leaving where I need it most. “I said—” I stop talking when he grips my hips, lifting me partly off the bed before burying his face between my thighs.

“Fuck, you taste good. I’ll never get enough,” he mumbles against my sex as his lips lock around my clit, sucking, his tongue flicking back and forth. I’m too keyed up. I ignite, my orgasm bursting through my body. I cry out his name, my body jerking.

Z keeps going, licking and sucking up every drop. His tongue continues to work my clit. He doesn’t stop until I’m going off again. I bury my face into the comforter as I cry out from the pure pleasure before my body goes lax except for my legs, which are shaking.

“Need you,” I vaguely hear Z say before I flip over onto my back with him coming down over me. He yanks at the top of my dress, exposing my breasts to him, the fabric no match for him. The ripping sound is loud in the room. It only heightens my arousal.

Z’s mouth latches on to my nipple, grazing it with his teeth, then he goes for the other. I watch as he sucks, his hand slipping down between us, undoing his pants.

He releases my nipple, pushing up onto one arm, looming over me. His eyes lock with mine as he guides his cock to my entrance. Holy hell, this is hot.

“No,” I tell him, fighting a smirk.

“It’s too late. It’s already mine.” Z sinks inside of me. I gasp as his cock fills me to the hilt.

"You're too big." I grip his shoulders.

"Your tight little cunt will take all of me." He pulls out, trusting back in. "This pussy was made to take my cock." He starts to move in and out of me. His strokes are slow and teasing. "When I'm done, it will be molded only for me."

"Your mouth is terrible," I lie, loving every single dirty word that comes out of it.

"I'll remember you said that," he says, taking my mouth in a kiss, his body pressing fully into mine. I love his weight on top of me, feeling all of him as his cock works in and out of me.

"Z." I gasp when the kiss breaks. A wave of emotion overcomes me.

"I know." He presses his mouth against mine. "You're with me."

"Yes," I moan on the edge of another orgasm. "Don't stop."

"Never." His dark gaze is intent, locking me under it.

A moment later, my release hits me hard.

I cry out his name as I ride the wave of pleasure flooding through my body.

Z lets out a loud groan, his hips jerking as he falls over the edge with me, his warm release spilling inside of me once again.

There had never even been a thought about protection from either of us.

Not that it matters at this point. I think a bun is already in the oven.

Our heavy breathing fills the room. My eyes are starting to fall closed.

“Sweetness.” Z’s mouth grazes my ear. “Not done with you yet.”

“I can’t.”

“You will,” he vows, and me and my body obey.

Z feasts and consumes all of me over and over until I’m screaming his name and begging him for sweet mercy.