CHAPTER 309

CHAPTER 309
WINTER

Zion kissed the side of my throat—right over my pulse.

The simple contact sent a shiver racing down my spine, heat blooming fast and liquid in my core despite the lingering ache in my ribs and the pull of stitches along my side.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of my soft pants and the simple cotton panties beneath them.

“Lift your hips a little, baby,” he murmured against my throat, voice husky and low.

I did—small, careful lift, ignoring the brief flare of pain in my side—and he tugged both down in one slow, gentle motion.

The fabric slid over my thighs, past my knees, until he eased them off completely.

Cool air kissed my bare skin, making me shiver again, but his body heat immediately chased it away as he settled between my thighs.

“Open your legs,” he said, voice low and husky, rough with want he was trying so hard to leash.

I did—slowly, thighs parting wider.

Knees bending just enough to give him room.

The cool air kissed my newly bared skin, making me shiver, but the heat radiating from his body immediately chased it away.

My pulse thundered in my ears, anticipation coiling tight and hot in my belly, every beat echoing between my legs where I already ached for him, slick and swollen and desperate.

He exhaled roughly through his nose, eyes darkening as he looked down at me—spread open, glistening, ready.

The sight of me like this seemed to unravel him: his jaw clenched, nostrils flared, a low, almost pained groan rumbling deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathed, almost reverent, the word torn from somewhere primal.

“Look at you… so pretty. So fucking wet for me already...So fucking perfect. So fucking mine.”

His index finger brushed across the top of my mound—light, teasing, deliberate—skimming through my curls with agonizing slowness.

My breath caught, hips twitching upward before I could stop them.

Then his finger slipped closer, tracing the seam between the lips of my sex—

He followed the slick path, parting me gently, spreading my wetness up and over my clit in languid, deliberate strokes that made my hips jerk despite myself.

Every pass sent sparks racing up my spine, every circle around that swollen bundle of nerves made my thighs tremble harder.

I wanted him inside me—deep, filling, claiming—but I knew he wouldn’t. Not tonight. Not until I was whole again.

So I took what he was giving: his fingers, his mouth, his careful, devastating care.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he rasped, voice splintering with raw hunger.

“So soft… so slick… so fucking perfect. I can feel how much you need this—how much you need me. Your body’s begging for it, baby. Clenching around nothing, dripping down my fingers like you can’t wait to be filled. You want me inside you so bad, don’t you? Want me to stroke you deep until you’re crying my name and coming so hard you forget how to breathe?”

I whimpered—helpless, needy—hips lifting again, chasing the pressure of his thumb as it pressed harder against my clit, circling with devastating precision while his fingers dipped lower, teasing my entrance without pushing in yet.

“Please…” The word escaped on a broken breath.

“Fuck, the way you say please…” he growled against my lips. “Let me feel how tight you still are for me. How much you’ve missed this. How much you’ve missed me.

"Open wider,” he said, nudging my thighs farther apart

I obeyed—

He slid another finger through my wetness—slow, deliberate—drawing it up from my core to bathe my clit in slick heat.

My hips began to rock instinctively, chasing the rhythm of his stroking, desperate for more even as pain flared in my ribs with every small movement.

“You have to lie still, Snowflake,”

Zion said, voice low and rough.

“No moving. No rocking. Not one fucking inch. I don’t want you hurting yourself—do you understand me?”

“Lie still?” I managed.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve got your fingers inside me and you expect me to just—what? Play dead?”

Yes, my ribs hurt. Every tiny shift sent fresh stabs through my side.

But there was no way I could simply hold still—not when his touch felt like this, like coming back to life after weeks of numbness.

My body was screaming for more.

“I mean it,” he repeated.

“You hold still, or I stop. Right now. I pull my fingers out and we’re done. Your body’s still healing—I’m not letting you tear anything open just to chase this. Say yes or I stop."

Frustration surged—hot, pissed, needy.

My thighs trembled around his hand, my core clenching involuntarily around his finger, but
I forced myself to go still—mostly.

“Okay..”

A gasp tore out of me before I could finish—because his long index finger had slipped inside my wet channel and pushed deep in one slow, perfect glide.

“Good girl,” he breathed, thumb returning to my clit with slow, perfect circles.

“Just like that. Let me work you open. Let me make you come so hard you see stars. Let me remind you exactly how much I fucking crave this—crave you—every single day.”

He started moving again—slow, deep strokes inside me, curling against that spot that made my vision blur, thumb never stopping its relentless rhythm on my clit.

The pleasure built fast—coiling tighter and tighter until I was shaking, whimpering, tears slipping from the corners of my eyes because it felt so good, so safe, so him.

He curled them immediately, pressing against that spot that made my vision white out, filling me so completely I forgot how to breathe for a second.

I whimpered—frustrated, desperate, thighs quivering with the effort to obey.

My hips wanted to rock, wanted to chase, but I locked them down, nails digging into his shoulders instead.

“Good girl,” he breathed, voice softening just a fraction as his thumb finally brushed my clit—light, teasing, rewarding.

He began a slow and methodical stroking inside my body—curling, pressing, finding that spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids.

It wasn’t long before I felt it: an elusive sensation building deep inside, spiraling tighter and hotter with every measured thrust of his finger.

Desire blossomed, blooming fast and fierce, coiling low in my belly until every nerve sang with it.

A whimper escaped my lips—helpless, needy.

“Look at me, Snowflake,” he said, voice husky and low, almost a growl.

I forced my eyes open—blurry at first, then sharpening on his face above me.

His gaze was dark, intense, locked on mine with a hunger that made my pulse race even faster.

He watched me like I was the only thing in the world, like every tremor, every gasp, every flutter of my lashes was something sacred he wanted to memorize.

His finger kept moving—slow, deep, relentless—while his thumb circled my clit in perfect counterpoint.

The dual sensation was overwhelming: the stretch inside, the precise pressure outside, building and building until my thighs trembled and my back arched off the bed despite the pain.

“Zion…” His name was a broken plea, all I could manage.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips over my temple.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you. Come for me. Let me feel you fall apart.”

ZION

I watched her face as I stroked her—mesmerized, completely ensnared by every flicker of expression that crossed it.

Her lips parted on shallow breaths, eyes half-lidded and glassy with pleasure, cheeks flushed beneath the fading bruises.

She was beautiful like this—

Every tiny hitch in her breathing, every soft gasp when my finger curled just right inside her, every tremble that ran through her thighs… it was fucking hypnotic.

I wished it could have been my cock—deep, filling her completely, feeling her clench and flutter around me the way she used to, tight and hot and perfect, her nails digging into my back while she moaned my name like a prayer.

God, the thought alone made me throb painfully against my zipper, the denim suddenly too tight, too rough, trapping every aching inch of me.

I was fucking hard—aching, leaking, the kind of hard that made my vision tunnel and my balls draw up tight.

One wrong shift and I’d lose it right there in my pants like some desperate teenager.

I’d be needing a fucking cold shower after this—long, freezing, standing under the spray until my teeth chattered and my dick finally gave up hope.

Because I couldn’t take her yet.

Not like that.

Not when every thrust risked tearing those stitches, risking blood and pain and the nightmare of almost losing her all over again.

So this would have to do.

My fingers inside her—slow, deep, curling against that spot that made her gasp and her walls flutter around me.

My thumb circling her clit with careful, relentless pressure.

Her hips twitching despite my warnings, her breath hitching in broken little whimpers that went straight to my groin.

She was so wet, so ready, dripping down my wrist, coating my hand like she was trying to pull me deeper, keep me there forever.

I groaned low in my throat—raw, tortured—forehead dropping to hers as I fought to keep my rhythm gentle, controlled, even as my cock jerked hard against the confines of my jeans, begging for relief I wouldn’t give it.

“Fuck, baby…” My voice came out wrecked, barely recognizable.

“So fucking beautiful..You’re killing me.”

Her thighs trembled around my hand, hips twitching despite her best efforts, small, desperate sounds spilling from her lips every time I curled my fingers just right.

Her walls fluttered and clenched, slick and hot, gripping me like she never wanted to let go.

“Zion…” My name broke on a sob—needy, pleading.

“You feel that?” I rasped, stroking deeper, thumb pressing harder on her clit.

“That’s me inside you. That’s me loving you. That’s me reminding you you’re still here. Still mine. Come for me, baby. Come on my fingers. Let me feel you fall apart. Let me feel how much you need me. How much you love me. How much you’re still mine.”

She shattered.

Her body tensed—back arching just enough to make me wince for her ribs—then shattered. She came with a broken cry, walls pulsing hard around my fingers, thighs clamping down, hips jerking as wave after wave crashed through her.

Only then did I ease my fingers free—slow, careful, drawing out the wet glide until she whimpered softly at the loss.

My hand came up between us, glistening with her arousal, and I brought it to my mouth without hesitation.

I licked my fingers clean—long, deliberate strokes of my tongue—tasting her, salty-sweet and so fucking addictive it made my cock jerk painfully against my zipper again.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sight, dark and dazed, lips parted on a shaky exhale as she watched me devour every trace of her like it was the only thing keeping me sane.

I didn’t stop there.

I leaned down, closing the distance until my mouth hovered just above hers. Her breath hitched—short, needy—when I dragged my tongue slowly across the seam of her lips, letting her taste herself on me.

I licked her bottom lip first—gentle, teasing—then the top.

She moaned—soft, broken—and her tongue slipped out to meet mine, tentative at first, then bolder, tasting herself mingled with my kiss.

“See how good you taste?” I whispered against her mouth, voice wrecked and reverent.

“See why I can’t get enough? Why I’d stay on my knees for hours just to drink you down again and again?”

Her lashes fluttered, eyes glassy with afterglow and fresh want, cheeks flushed beneath the fading bruises.

She looked wrecked—beautifully, perfectly wrecked—

I kissed her properly then—slow, deep, letting her taste every bit of what she did to me.

My tongue slid against hers, coaxing, claiming, swallowing the small, helpless sounds she made as I licked into her mouth like I was starving for it.

When I finally pulled back—just enough to breathe—her lips were swollen, shiny with our combined spit, and her eyes were heavy-lidded, dazed, locked on mine like I was the only thing left in her world.

“You’re mine,” I rasped, forehead pressed to hers, voice splintering with everything I felt.

“Every taste. Every sound. Every fucking inch of you. And I’m never letting you forget it.”

“Never,” she whispered, voice small and shattered and full of love.

I kissed her again—soft this time, reverent—then gathered her close, arms wrapping around her protectively.

“Rest,” I murmured into her hair.

“I’ve got you. Always got you.”

She sighed—soft, surrendering—and let herself drift against my chest, heartbeat slowing to match mine.

I stayed awake—watching her breathe, feeling her warmth, tasting her on my tongue—and let myself believe it.