Chapter 161 161

Chapter 161 161
  MILLICENT 
  Xander's mouth is hungry in a way that makes my knees buckle, and when he deepens it, I grip his shirt just to stay upright.
  Xander’s mouth crashes into mine like he’s been pacing for this exact second, like he spent the whole damn day replaying the moment he lost me in that classroom. His fingers slide into my hair, his thumb tilting my chin up because of course he likes control even when he pretends he doesn’t.
  He kisses me different from Zayne. Zayne is fire and command. Xander is—gods—this slow burn that ignites from the inside out. A kind of hunger that whispers instead of shouts… but hits just as hard.
  My knees almost give out.
  He feels it. Of course he does. His other hand settles at my waist, steadying me before I embarrass myself further in front of Mrs. D, who is absolutely delighted by this whole mess. She’s covering her grin with her scarf like that hides anything.
  Xander pulls back a breath away, eyes molten.
  “Thought you were ‘totally fine,’ Kitten,” he whispers, brushing his nose against mine. “Looks like you needed me.”
  I should deny it. Push him. Roll my eyes and walk away like I didn’t spend the entire drive fantasizing about climbing Zayne like a tree.
  But the truth is right there, caught between our mouths.
  “I… yeah.” It comes out embarrassingly soft, even though I didn’t mean it to. “Maybe.”
  “Maybe,” he repeats, smirking like that’s a confession. “Cute.”
  I swat his chest, but he catches my wrist mid-air like he’s been waiting. His lips hover over my pulse, barely touching. It sends a stupid shiver racing up my arm.
  Behind him, Zayne mutters, “If you’re gonna devour her, at least take her inside.”
  Mrs. D snorts. “They better not. The floors are not built for that level of teenage hormones.”
  I want the earth to swallow me. I really do.
  Xander releases my hand, only to lace our fingers together like I belong there. “Come on, Kitten. We’ve got… a situation.”
  Right. The witch. The thing Zayne didn’t explain. The reason they summoned me like I’m a VIP package that needed extraction.
  My brain tries to switch gears.
  Xander smirks at Zayne and he rolls his eyes like he’s two seconds from starting a war. “Alright, princess,” Zayne mutters, stepping closer. “Let’s go.”
  Zayne slides his arms under me and lifts me like I weigh nothing. I curl into him automatically, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in like he’s the first good thing I’ve had all week.
  Inside the manor, he sets me gently on the couch. I’m still buzzing with adrenaline, lust, affection — all of it tangled until I can’t tell where one emotion ends and another begins.
  Zayne pushes up from the couch like he’s about to grab something, but my body moves before my brain catches up.
  I grab his shirt, yank him down, and straddle him.
  “Princess—”
  I kiss him. Hard. Desperate. Like I’ve been starving all day and only just realized what for. His hands fly to my waist but he doesn’t push me away. He just breathes against my mouth, stunned, like I short-circuited him.
  “Wait,” he manages. “Hold up. I have to show you something.”
  “Not right now,” I whisper, tugging him closer until our noses brush. “Please.”
  I feel him cave.
  I peel off my shirt and his eyes go dark in a way that sends a shiver racing through me, heat pooling low in my stomach. His hands slide up my sides, like he’s memorizing every inch.
  He leans in and his mouth finds my skin, trailing heat and electricity until it feels like my thoughts are dissolving. A sound leaves me, louder than I meant it to be, and Zayne reacts instantly, his hands tightening, his breath catching against me.
  Behind us, Xander mutters, “You’re killing me.”
  “Xander,” his name slips out of my mouth, tangled and shameless.
  Everything feels like too much and not enough at the same time, and when Zayne’s mouth finds the sensitive spot just below my collarbone, my whole body arches into him.
  Zayne’s mouth lingers on my skin like he’s trying to brand me, every breath he lets out rolling down my chest until my whole body feels wired and restless and stupidly eager. His hands move up my sides again, slow and claiming, and the second his thumb brushes the spot under my ribs, my breath catches so loudly that even Xander curses under his breath behind us.
  Zayne leans back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark in that way that makes my spine curl. “Don’t start shaking now,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough like gravel dragged over silk. “You asked for a version of me that doesn’t hold back.”
  A shiver shoots down my spine, the kind that’s basically begging for trouble. “You’re… overwhelming.”
  His jaw twitches like he’s fighting a smirk. “Then tell me to stop. Or slow down.” He slides a hand to the back of my neck, guiding my gaze back to his. “Otherwise, you’re mine until I decide you’ve had enough.”
  My throat goes tight. No sound comes out.
  He hums like he knew I’d choke on nothing. “Thought so,” he whispers, brushing his lips painfully close to mine without kissing me. “Keep staring at me while I take control.”
  My breath stutters, but I don’t look away. I can’t.
  His hands settle firmly at my waist. My skin heats under his palms and every inch of me feels tuned to him like he’s the only thing that exists in the room. The manor could collapse around us and I don’t think I’d blink.
  I move closer before I even realize my body is doing it, my knees squeezing his hips, my hands sliding up his chest like I’m climbing him again. His breath punches out, and his fingers dig in just a bit harder, like he’s trying not to drag me into him all at once.
  “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he mutters, eyes glued to my mouth. “You’re making me forget every reason I had for being responsible tonight.”
  My voice barely makes it out. “Then forget it.”
  His eyes snap up to mine like I just ripped a leash off him. “Kitten,” Xander warns behind us, but there’s no real warning there — just jealousy and hunger tangled up in his voice.
  Zayne’s lips finally meet mine.
  Not gently. Not testing.
  Just a crash, a claim, a breath-stealing pull that drags a sound right out of me before I can swallow it.
  His hand slips under the curtain of my hair, holding me there while his mouth moves against mine like he’s been starving and I’m the only thing he’s allowed to taste. My fingers curl around his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor me because the whole room tilts when he kisses me like this.
  I’m vaguely aware of Xander seating on the opposite couch watching us. His breathing is uneven, rough, way too loud and I wondered... Was he touching himself?
  “Zayne,” he mutters. “You’re killing me, man.”
  “Get in line,” Zayne mutters against my mouth without even looking at him. His thumb strokes the base of my throat, slow and distracting, and I swear my entire nervous system short-circuits.
  I try to steady myself, but he drags his mouth down to my jaw, then my neck, slow and deliberate like he’s marking a map he already memorized. His breath ghosts over my skin and I grip him tighter, my thighs tightening around him without permission as I kept dry humping. Trying to soothe the part that ached for attention.
  He reacts instantly, a quiet sound leaving him like I surprised him. His hand slips to my lower back, pulling me closer until our chests meet and there’s no space left to pretend we’re being sane.
  “You don’t listen,” he murmurs against my skin, lips brushing the spot that makes my heartbeat stutter. “You just want to get ruined, don't you?”
  “Then ruin me,” I breathe.
  His eyes lock onto mine, intense enough to make the air thicken. “No,” he whispers, voice dipping lower. “Not tonight.”
  My stomach drops in the best possible way. He drags a finger under my chin, lifting my face again like he owns the angle of my gaze. “You need your ability to walk.”
  Xander, who has been trying and failing not to combust, finally spoke up again. The frustration in his voice cracks a little. “Zayne. Switch with me before I lose my mind.”
  Zayne doesn’t look back. Not even once. He drags his thumb across my lower lip, slow, like he’s wiping off a kiss he wants to put back.
  “No,” he mutters. “I’m not done.”
  “Zayne—”
  “Sit,” Zayne says, not raising his voice but somehow making it hit like a command anyway.
  And the funniest part? Xander sits.
  On the armchair. Arms crossed. Fuming. A menace in hibernation.
  Senior brother privileges?
  Zayne finally leans in again, but slower this time, his breath brushing my cheek. His lips graze my ear when he speaks. “You should see yourself right now,” he whispers. “You are so drunk in lust and heat. It's beautiful.”
  My breath hitches. “I—”
  He pulls back just enough to see my face. His eyes sweep over me like he’s memorizing every reaction I can’t control. “Tell me who you want to fuck you, princess,” he whispers.
  The question lands heavy. Xander makes a low frustrated sound like he’s about to explode if I don’t answer in the next ten seconds.
  My voice comes out thin, breathless. “You.”
  Zayne’s jaw flexes.
  Xander curses under his breath.
  But Zayne doesn’t kiss me again.
  He slides one hand up my back, slow, steady, grounding me right when my head feels too full. His forehead presses to mine. His breath mixes with mine.
  Zayne moves me to the armchair like I weigh nothing, guiding me down until I’m sitting and he’s caging me in with those rough, impatient hands on my sides. His body keeps pressing into mine, like he refuses to give my skin even one second of air. Every time he leans closer, heat rolls through me in waves, licking up my spine, pooling low and dizzying.
  Then he starts messing with his belt buckle as, his mouth dives for my neck.
  “Ah—”
  The sound spills out of me before I can swallow it. His mouth is right at that spot, the one just under my ear, and he kisses it like he’s been starving for the taste. Then he nibbles at my ear, sucking slow, teasing, claiming. My thighs press together on instinct and it only makes him groan against my skin.
  His fingers slide through my hair, tugging it to one side, giving him more of my throat. My moan vibrates under his lips, and he shivers like the sound hits him somewhere dangerous. I feel him against me, hard, insistent, already fighting against his pants. He’s so worked up it has to hurt, but he keeps grinding closer like the ache is something he wants.
  I finally heard the clank of his belt hitting the floor. I grab him by the shirt and pull him in harder, like I’m telling him without words: Don’t stop.
   His fingers pop his buttons open as his hands return to my waist, hot and greedy.
  His mouth trails down my chest, heat dragging lower until he’s kissing between my breasts. That's when I realised my clothes had already been taken off. His gaze locked on me like I’m the only thing in the whole world worth worshipping. When his lips close over my nipple, wet and slow, a sharp moan rips out of me. I slap my own hand over my mouth, mortified knowing even though Mrs D wasn't in the manor, she could still be around and listening. 
  But he growls against me like he wants the noise, wants to drag more of it out.