Strings and Schemes

Chapter 9

A/N: Some explicit content. 

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 Zayn takes my jacket and hangs it up. As I bend over to untie my classic Converse—an undeniable Raina Addams signature—he stops me. Dropping to one knee, he steadies himself before untying my sneakers for me. His jaw tightens as he glances up and catches sight of what I'm not wearing beneath my skirt.

"Raina..." he groans, his voice thick with desire. "What. Are. You. Doing. To. Me?" He enunciates each word, barely above a whisper.

His gaze flicks from my dampened skin back to my eyes.

"I've never had to tempt someone so much to relive something I know was phenomenal for both of us," Zayn sighs. "This celebrity factor really doesn't do much for you, huh?"

I shake my head, fully aware of how exposed I am under his lingering stare. He doesn't bother hiding the way he drinks me in, his restraint hanging by a thread.

With a firm grip, he parts my legs wider, lifting my skirt to fully take me in before murmuring, "Please don't deny me touching you..."

I say nothing, my mouth parting slightly as a feverish heat washes over me. He smirks at my silent surrender before dipping his head between my thighs.

A deep, satisfied moan vibrates from his throat as he laps at me, his tongue reacquainting itself with the taste of me after nearly a week apart. My breath stutters, and my body melts into his touch. His fingers trail along the backs of my legs, leaving a wake of goosebumps in their path.

"God, you taste so good," he groans against me. "I meant that last time."

Flattening his tongue, he licks me in slow, deliberate strokes, making me tremble against his mouth. My fingers tangle in his hair as I fight to stay upright, caught between overwhelming pleasure and the knowledge that we're still standing in the entrance of his house.

Sensing my tension, he soothes me, massaging the backs of my knees, unraveling me in an entirely different way. Then, with a knowing smirk, he holds up two fingers in a peace sign, pointing from my eyes to his.

I know what he's asking.

My eyes flutter shut for a second, unable to handle the raw intensity of his gaze. The second they do, his mouth disappears from me. I whimper at the sudden loss, shivering as cool air replaces his warmth.

"Eyes on mine, or I'll stop," he warns, voice low, commanding.

I nod frantically, desperate for him to continue.

Locking eyes with me, he resumes his torturous pace, alternating between intense strokes and featherlight kisses. The contrast makes my legs tremble. I clutch his shoulders for balance, and he laces his fingers through mine, dragging one hand up my body, feeling every curve as he pushes me closer to the edge.

And then—I pull away.

His chin glistens with me, but he doesn't pull me back. He respects the boundary, no matter how thin the line between restraint and indulgence has become. Instead, he just smirks, licking his lips clean before removing my other shoe.

Standing, he pulls me flush against him, kissing me in that deep, full-mouthed way that's quickly becoming ours.

"I've been waiting all week to do this," he admits, his voice brushing against my lips.

I flush, shaking my head at the thought of him—this literal rockstar—holding out for me.

Hand in hand, he leads me to the living room, grabbing two bottles of sparkling water before throwing on some music. My music.