Strings and Schemes

Chapter 26

I smirk, finally taking him into my mouth, slow, inch by inch, letting my tongue glide against him. His grip in my hair tightens, his breath shuddering.

"Fuck—just like that." His voice is hoarse, like he's holding himself back.

I hum in response, the vibration pulling a curse from his lips. His hips jerk slightly, and I take him deeper, my hands gripping his thighs to hold him still. I set a rhythm, slow and deliberate, wanting to push him to the same edge he brought me to.

His abs tense, his fingers tightening in my hair as he lets out a ragged breath. "Jaan, if you keep this up, I'm not gonna last."

I pull back slightly, my tongue flicking over the sensitive underside before I hollow my cheeks and take him deep again. He curses, his head falling back, his control slipping.

And then—he pulls me off of him, his grip firm but careful, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Not yet," he rasps, his eyes dark and filled with intent. Zayn doesn't give me a second to recover before he shifts, rolling onto his side and pulling me against him, his leg slipping between mine. His fingers return to my core, slow, teasing, barely there. My body jolts in his grip, already desperate, already needy.

"Too much?" he murmurs, lips brushing against my ear. His fingers drag lazily over me, the ghost of a touch, a whisper of pressure that makes me whimper.

I shake my head, my voice barely above a breath. "No."

He smirks, dark and knowing, his fingers dipping lower, teasing my entrance but never giving me what I want. What I need.

"You're always so eager," he muses, dragging the pads of his fingers up, over my clit, pressing just enough to make my breath catch. "So desperate for me."

I whimper, shifting against him, my body arching instinctively, chasing his touch. But he doesn't let me have it. Not yet.

I can feel how wet I am, how my body is already begging, how my thighs tremble as he continues his slow, measured torment. He's drawing shapes over my skin, tracing lazy patterns, keeping me right on the edge but never letting me tip over.

I let out a strangled noise. "Zayn—"

He shushes me, his lips grazing the curve of my neck, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers through me. "Patience, jaan."

Patience is the last thing I have.

My hips jerk, seeking friction, but his grip tightens on my thigh, keeping me exactly where he wants me. Keeping me from taking control.

"That's not very nice," he tuts, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You're supposed to let me take care of you."

I whimper again, frustration burning beneath my skin. "Then do it."

His eyes darken, his breath heavy against my ear. "Say it properly."

I swallow, my pride crumbling as my need outweighs everything else. "Please."

His fingers slip inside of me, just one, pressing deep, curling just enough to make my breath catch—but he doesn't move. Doesn't give me the rhythm I'm silently begging for.

"More," I gasp, my fingers digging into his back.

He hums, like he's considering it. Like he enjoys making me wait.

Then, finally, he starts to move, slow, deliberate, stroking that spot that makes me tremble. His thumb brushes over my clit, light, teasing, enough to make my body tighten, enough to have me climbing higher, higher—