Chapter 310

ZION

The room was quiet except for Winter’s uneven breathing as she came down from her high.

Her body was still trembling in little aftershocks, thighs slick, cheeks flushed beneath the fading bruises, eyes glassy and heavy-lidded with pleasure.

I held her against my chest, one arm locked around her shoulders, the other resting low on her hip—

She smelled like sex and chamomile and home. Like everything I’d almost lost.

I pressed my lips to her hair—couldn’t stop myself—inhaling deep, grounding myself in the reality of her.

Alive.

Warm. Here. Mine.

Then she shifted.

Slowly at first, like she was testing her own body, then more deliberately.

Her hand slid down my chest, palm flat over my heart, feeling the way it hammered beneath her touch.

Her fingers kept drifting lower—past my ribs, over my stomach—until they brushed the straining bulge in my trousers.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

She lifted her head, eyes finding mine.

They were still hazy from her orgasm, but there was something new in them now—determination, mischief, a spark of the old fire that had always burned so bright in her.

“Now it’s my turn to please you,” she whispered, voice still hoarse from crying out my name.

Her fingers curled lightly over the thick ridge of my cock through the fabric, and I nearly bucked into her hand.

“Snowflake —” My voice cracked.

I caught her wrist—gentle but firm—stopping her before she could stroke.

“It’s not necessary. You’re still healing. You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

She didn’t pull away, just looked up at me with those blue eyes that could still undo me with a single glance.

“I can see how hard you are. I can feel it. You’ve been aching this whole time, haven’t you? Holding back. Taking care of me. Letting me come while you just… suffer.”

I swallowed hard.

My dick jerked under her palm like it had a mind of its own, desperate for any friction at all.

“Yeah,” I admitted, voice gravel.

“I’m fucking dying here. But I’m not dying enough to let you hurt yourself for me. You’re still sore. Still stitched. I’m not letting you—”

She cut me off by leaning up—slow, careful—and pressing her mouth to mine.

It was soft at first, coaxing, then deeper when I opened for her.

Her tongue brushed mine—tentative, then bolder—and I groaned into her mouth, hips jerking involuntarily into her hand.

When she pulled back, her lips were wet, eyes dark with intent.

“I’m not asking for permission to hurt myself,” she said quietly.

“I’m asking to make you feel good. I want to taste you. I want to feel you come apart in my mouth the way you just made me come apart on your fingers. I want to give you something back after everything you’ve given me these past weeks. Please, Zion. Let me.”

"Snowflake. "

“Don’t fight it, enjoy it. I know you want to."

Her tongue sneaks out, running across her bottom lip as a wanton moan rumbles deep in her throat.

"Snowflake,” I moan, my muscles bunching as her fingers trail down my abs.

My control frayed another thread.

My cock throbbed so hard it hurt—pre-cum soaking through the fabric, making a wet spot she could probably feel under her palm.

“Fuck,” I breathed, forehead dropping to hers.

“You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

Her smile was small, wicked, triumphant.

“Then die happy.”

I laughed—low, broken—and kissed her again.

Harder this time. Hungrier. Letting her taste how much I wanted this, how much I’d been starving for her touch.

“Fuck,” I moaned, muscles bunching tight under her fingers as they trailed down my abs, slow and deliberate, like she was mapping every ridge, every scar, every inch of me she’d almost lost.

Her touch was fire—soft, teasing, devastating—and my cock jerked hard against the confines of my trousers, aching, leaking, begging for her.

“Fuck, Snowflake… I need your mouth on me. Please, baby.”

“Patience,” she purred, looking up at me with those huge, hungry eyes that could still wreck me in a heartbeat.

The way she gazed at me—like I was the only thing she’d ever craved—made my balls tighten painfully.

My dick throbbed so hard I could feel my pulse in it, precum already soaking through the fabric, desperate to be set free and plunged into that sweet, needy throat I’d dreamed about every night she was gone.

“Fuck yes,” I barked—voice raw, cracking—when her fingers finally wrapped around my belt and began unbuckling it with agonizing slowness. Each metallic clink felt like a countdown to my sanity.

“You’re killing me, babe. Fucking killing me.”

Her lips damn near burned when she pressed them to my stomach—soft, open-mouthed kisses peppering across the indents of my six-pack, tongue teasing along the deep lines, working lower, lower, until I was shaking with the effort not to thrust.

I reached out, threading my fingers into her hair—trying not to push, trying not to beg, already failing miserably.

“You’re not in charge right now, Zion,” she warned, voice low and wicked, breath ghosting over the sensitive skin just above my waistband.

“Push me and you’ll get nothing.”

“Snowflake,” I groaned—half plea, half curse—as she popped the button.

“Just be Careful…”

“I’m fine,” she replied, eyes flicking up to mine with that stubborn spark I loved so much it hurt.

Then she tugged—both trousers and boxers sliding down over my hips in one smooth motion—freeing my cock.

It sprang up—thick, flushed dark, veins standing out, the tip already glistening with precum.

Her eyes widened in that same delighted way they always did, like she was seeing me for the first time all over again.

“Fuck,” I hissed, head dropping back against the headboard as the cool air hit me.

My dick jerked—hard, needy—precum beading at the slit, one thick drop sliding down the shaft. Just the thought of her tongue catching it made my balls draw up tight.

If she didn’t fucking hurry up, I was gonna blow like a kid looking at his first porno—embarrassing, uncontrolled, desperate.

“Can’t get enough of you, Snowflake,” I rasped, voice splintering as she wrapped her fingers around me—gentle but firm, stroking once from base to tip, thumb swiping over the head to spread the slickness.

“Know the feeling, Zion,” she whispered, eyes locked on mine, lips curving in that small, wicked smile that always undid me.

“Addicted to your cock.”

Slowly, she licks her lips—deliberate, obscene, tongue dragging across the plump bottom one before her teeth sink in, holding it captive while she stares up at me with pure, unfiltered hunger.

Those blue eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, locked on mine like she’s already imagining how I’ll taste, how I’ll feel sliding down her throat.

My cock jerks hard against my palm—precum beading at the tip, sliding down the shaft in a slow, glistening trail.

I’m so fucking hard it hurts, veins standing out, head flushed dark and angry, throbbing with every heartbeat like it’s trying to reach her mouth on its own.

“Suck me, Snowflake,” I growl, voice low and shredded, the words scraping out raw.

“I want to watch you choking on my cock. I wanna see my cum covering your tongue, dripping off your lips while you swallow every drop like the greedy girl you are.”

A growl rumbles deep in her chest—feminine, feral, possessive—and the sound shoots straight to my balls. She holds my gaze for one burning beat.

Fuck, my girl is pure fire. Untamed. Unbreakable. And right now, she’s on her knees for me, ready to ruin me.

Her full lips part—slow, teasing—and her tongue sneaks out, pink and wet, hovering just above the head of my cock. A single bead of precum trembles there, waiting.

“Yes, babe,” I rasp, voice cracking.

“Yes. Yes. Fuck—take it. Take all of me.”

She doesn’t rush.

She never does when she wants to torture me.

Instead she leans in closer—nose brushing the underside first, inhaling deep like she’s savoring my scent—then drags the flat of her tongue from base to tip in one long, filthy lick.

The heat of her mouth hits me like a brand; my hips jerk forward before I can stop them, smearing more precum across her lips.

She hums—pleased, wicked—and circles the head with her tongue, lapping up every drop, tasting me like I’m her favorite fucking thing.

Then she opens wider and takes me in—slow, inch by torturous inch—lips stretching around my girth, cheeks hollowing as she sucks gently at first, tongue swirling under the ridge.

My head drops back against the headboard with a thud. A guttural groan rips out of my throat—raw, broken.

“Fuck—yes—just like that—fuck, your mouth—”

She moans around me—vibrations shooting straight to my balls—and sinks deeper.

Her throat flutters as she takes more, more, until her nose brushes my pelvis and I’m buried to the hilt in wet, perfect heat.

Tears gather at the corners of her eyes from the stretch, but she doesn’t pull back.

She holds me there—swallowing, throat working around the head—then slides off slow, lips dragging, tongue pressing flat along the underside the whole way.

I thread my fingers into her hair—not pushing, just holding—hips twitching with the effort not to thrust.

“Look at me,” I rasp when her lashes flutter shut.

She does—lifting her gaze to mine, eyes wet and dark and so fucking hungry it nearly undoes me.

The sight of her—lips stretched wide around my cock, cheeks flushed, tears clinging to her lashes, still bruised and scarred and beautiful—rips something primal loose in my chest.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I groan, thumb brushing a tear from her cheek.

“Taking me so deep… so good… my girl… my perfect fucking girl…”

She moans again—vibrating around me—and bobs faster, taking me deep, throat relaxing to swallow me whole over and over.

Spit drips down her chin, slick and messy, and the wet sounds of her mouth on me fill the room—filthy, obscene, perfect.

My balls draw up tight—pressure building fast, unstoppable.

“Gonna come—fuck—gonna come in your mouth—baby—take it—take every drop—”

She doesn’t pull off.

She takes me deeper—nose buried against my pelvis—sucking hard, throat working, eyes locked on mine like she wants to watch me fall apart.

I come with a choked roar—back bowing, hips jerking, spilling thick and hot down her throat in heavy pulses. She swallows—greedy, perfect—milking every drop until I’m shaking, oversensitive, vision whiting out.

When she finally pulls off—slow, careful—her lips are swollen, shiny with spit and me, chin wet, eyes glassy but triumphant.

She licks her lips once—slow, deliberate—tasting the last of me, then looks up at me with that small, satisfied smile that could bring me to my knees.

I haul her up careful not ro hurt her —despite the shaking in my arms—and crush my mouth to hers.

I can taste myself on her tongue—salty, bitter—and it makes me groan into her mouth like a man possessed.

“You’re perfect,” I pant against her lips when we break apart.

“Fucking perfect...And mine.”

She curls into my chest—small, sated, a little smug.

“Yours,” she whispers.

“Always yours.”

I wrap both arms around her—careful of every bruise, every stitch—and bury my face in her hair.

“Forever,” I vow, voice raw.

“You’re never getting rid of me.”

She laughs—soft, sleepy, perfect—and presses a kiss to my collarbone.

“Good.”

I hold her tighter—heart still racing, body still humming—and let myself believe it.

She was here.

She was safe.

She was mine.

And I was never—fucking ever—letting go.

Not tonight.

Not tomorrow.

Not in this life or the next.

Forever.