So I can’t even breathe loudly? This is going to be seriously hard. It becomes infinitely harder when Zeth descends down my body, leaving a trail of burning kisses over my skin. He reaches the juncture between my legs and that low rumble from the drum of his ribcage sends a wave of electric current fizzling across every square inch of my bare skin.

Then it’s not just his fingers on me, it’s his tongue as well. The next three minutes are a blur; I’m fighting to keep my vocal chords from destroying me, while Zeth licks and sucks at me, tracing the length of his tongue over my pussy, circling my clit, driving me closer and closer to madness.

I begin to mouth curse words when Zeth inserts one finger, then two inside me as he does his thing with his mouth. That’s nothing compared to what happens when he withdraws them and slides his thumb inside me, though, using his fingers to massage my pussy as well as the tip of his tongue to flick over and over on my swollen clit.

I nearly fail his test. I writhe on the bed, biting ferociously hard on my bottom lip, just waiting for the urgent scream hammering against my blocked-off throat to break free. Zeth grabs hold of my hips and pins me in place, continuing his assault. I think I hear that vindictive chuckle of his, but I can’t be sure because my head is pounding. Screaming. Swearing.

It builds then, my impending orgasm. It feels as though the lengths of nerves running through my body are expanding their network, tiny filaments of new connections spreading through me like the roots of a tree, and each last one of them is on fire, burning and evaporating, only to have new ones take their place, burning twice as hard.

I am cinder and ash by the time it overtakes me. I want to scream out as my whole self ignites, but there’s nothing I can do, so I let my body contort, my back arching to painful degrees as I’m blinded by the tsunami of pleasure that crashes over me.

When I can think coherently again, the sound of Zeth’s deep voice is the first thing I register. That and the high-pitched ringing in my ears. I open my eyes—I don’t even remember screwing them shut—and he’s there, still propped up between my legs, watching me with a steely gaze. “That was perfect,” he informs me, and then, to my horror, kisses me between my legs.

I try to scramble away from him, not quite so unashamed as I was ten seconds ago, but he grabs hold of me and pins me again. “Sloane, you’re fucking beautiful and amazing and you taste incredible. I want to live down here.” He kisses me again, and I fight the urge to try and squirm away from him again. He gives me a hard look and then slaps my thigh, hard enough to leave a hand mark. I go still on the bed, still not talking, not sure if I’m allowed to yet. Zeth gives me an approving nod and lifts himself, rocking back onto his heels. I know from the devious look that suddenly forms on his face he’s about to do something that might bother me, and he doesn’t disappoint. He slowly inserts every single one of the fingers he used to touch my pussy into his mouth and he sucks them clean. He ends on his thumb, his eyelids lowering as he traces my slickness all over his bottom lip. “If I told you that you were allowed to speak now, Sloane, and I asked you if you still want to kiss me, what would your answer be?” he asks.

My throat, all of a sudden, feels scratchy and terribly dry. I answer him, my voice a cracked whisper. “Yes. I would tell you yes.”

Zeth’s heavy weight is on me in a heartbeat, and his mouth is pressed against mine for the second time since we stepped into this room. I can smell and taste myself all over him, and I don’t mind a single bit. I love it, in fact—that he loves being marked with me like this.

There are girls in movies who cry after sex; I’ve never understood that before—they look like freaking psychopaths, it’s no wonder the male lead always runs like crazy—but at this moment I honestly do feel like crying. Or laughing hysterically, or something. I’m just so overwhelmed by everything, by the amazing orgasm I’m still aching from, by Zeth actually, finally kissing me, that I can’t seem to handle it.

Zeth’s mouth is careful but demanding now. It’s as though he’s wanted this one final thing from me for a while and he’s only now able to claim it. That’s what I feel: well and truly claimed. It’s the best feeling in the world.

Zeth huffs heavily out of his nose. His lips stop moving against mine and he just rests his forehead against mine and stares at me.

I nearly jump out of my skin when there’s a hammering at the room door. “Time!” a voice yells through the flimsy MDF board.

“What the hell?”

Zeth lifts himself up and sets about untying me, biting back a smile. “One minute, asshole!” he yells.

“What the hell does that mean, time?” I scuttle off the bed and start throwing my clothes on. Bra first, T-shirt next. Zeth snags the panties out of my hands, shakes his head at me—mine—and they disappear into his back pocket.

“This place charges by the hour,” he says.

I put on my wet jeans without the benefit of any underwear, which is extremely uncomfortable, and then there’s more banging on the door. No, not banging—hammering.

“Sounds like there’s a line forming out there for me. You mind waiting in the car?” Zeth quips, raising his eyebrows. He’s miraculously somehow dressed, hair pointing in every direction and looking like he totally just fucked my brains out.

“Oh, you’re funny?” I say, as though this is a shock, which it kind of is. “Who knew?”

He rubs ruefully at the stubble on his jaw. “Yeah,” he tells me. “Who knew?”