Strings and Schemes

Chapter 16

"Like this?" I ask, my voice laced with a tone I'm not used to in these situations. I roll my hips just slightly, barely enough for friction, but enough to make him groan softly.

His eyes flash with something dangerous and restrained. "Don't ask, baby. Take it."

The words set something off inside me.

I move against him again, this time with less fear. His breath stutters, his hands twitching against the couch like he's fighting the urge to switch the script.

I lean down, dragging my lips across his jaw, just grazing him, never giving him enough. "What if I like making you beg?"

A low, gravelly chuckle rumbles through his chest. "Careful, love," he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. "You might get addicted to it."

I drag my nails lightly down his chest, watching as he shivers beneath me. "Maybe I already am."

The look in his eyes darkens completely.

I grip his jaw gently, tilting his head up so his lips hover just beneath mine. "No touching," I whisper, echoing his own rules back to him.

He smirks, but there's something raw in his expression now.

I know he wants to flip me over. I know he wants to take back control.

And I don't let him.

Instead, I take my time finding my new pace.

I let my fingers drift lower again, teasing, stroking, building him up until his breathing turns ragged. I watch every movement of his face, every micro-expression, every time he tenses his fingers into the couch to stop himself from grabbing me. But he has an objective here, he keeps himself together and it's exhilarating, watching him watch me fumble through it.

I shift just slightly, rolling my hips in a way that makes his head fall back against the couch.

"Fuck, Raina," he groans.

I smile, pressing a kiss just beneath his ear. His self control pinned in place, letting me discover myself through him.

A wave of courage greets me, as I press my lips to the corner of his mouth, whispering, "You're not allowed to touch me until I say so."

His jaw clenches, his eyes flashing up at me with something wild. The game has shifted, and I'm not sure what to do with it, but I know I want to keep chasing that high.

I adjust my position, feeling the way his body tenses beneath me, the way his hands twitch at his sides, eager but restrained.

"Still not touching me?" I tease, my fingers tracing down his chest, feeling the way his muscles flex beneath my touch.

Zayn smirks, but his voice is edged with something deeper, something barely restrained. "Not unless you tell me to."

The idea thrums through me, intoxicating and powerful. Something I've never done before, not of my own plans. I hesitate to say the words, shaking my head like an etch a sketch; Z smiles up at me, encouraging me to let the thought become an idea. To let the idea become fantasy; to let the fantasy become reality.

I bite my lip, shifting forward, the friction sparking along every nerve in my body. "Then I want your mouth on me," I whisper, my voice a tone I don't recognize.

His smirk deepens, his hands moving on instinct before he stops himself, gripping the couch instead. "Then take it, baby." I freeze.

Is he telling me what I think he's telling me?

A slow burn curls through my stomach at the way he offers himself up so easily.

I give myself to the count of three, letting the anxiety course through my body one last time before I move deliberately, not hesitating, no longer second-guessing myself. I push off of his lap, and slip my fingers into the waistband of my skirt, pushing it off in one slow motion, relishing the way his eyes darken, the way he drinks in every inch of me.