Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 503: Holy Hands, Dirty Mouth

Eventually, the kiss ended, like every good thing does. Only he didn’t move. Not yet.

Instead, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged as he tried to get himself under control.

Too bad, I much preferred it when he slipped his leash.

"I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time," he whispered, his voice wrecked and warm against my skin.

My hands trembled slightly as I traced the edge of his jaw. "Then why did you stop? Please," I begged, my body moving unconsciously under his. "Please don’t stop."

I whispered a single word in my heart, scared to say it out loud in case it made him pull back. But to me, the man over me would always have that special nickname in my head and my heart.

As if my words did something to him, the razor-edge restraint was gone. The kid gloves were taken off, and the expression in his eyes was just as obsessive as my own.

His hands were on me instantly—no hesitation, no second-guessing. His grip was firm, his body hot against mine as he pinned me back into the bed like the decision had already been made.

This wasn’t a negotiation. This was a confession. A reckoning.

He kissed me like I was air and he had gone too long without breathing. His mouth crashed into mine, deep and punishing and desperate. It wasn’t slow anymore. It wasn’t soft. His tongue tangled with mine, his teeth catching my bottom lip again, biting harder this time—but not too hard. Just enough to make me gasp, to make me arch up against him.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he growled, voice rough and shaking with everything he’d been holding back. "Do you have any idea what it’s been like?" he demanded.

I couldn’t answer. My body was burning. My skin buzzed under every inch of his touch. I couldn’t even form a coherent thought, let alone answer his question.

He shifted, straddling my hips, grinding against me through the last layers of clothes we hadn’t removed yet. The friction made my back arch off the bed, made a moan tear from my throat that had him cursing in a language I didn’t recognize.

He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head, his strength effortless, his control unraveling.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered, forehead pressing to mine again. "I need to hear you say it if this isn’t what you want."

"Don’t you dare," I breathed. "I will kill you and bring you back to life again if you dare stop now."

The growl that rumbled from his chest was pure need.

He let go of my wrists just long enough to strip me bare. His hands trembled as he touched me, but not with nerves—with need. It was as if he were trying to memorize everything. Every curve. Every scar. Every inch of skin he’d only ever seen in dreams.

He didn’t pull away.

Didn’t rush to the end.

Didn’t treat me like something to be conquered.

Instead, his lips trailed slowly along my neck, kissing the curve beneath my ear, down the hollow of my throat. Each press was soft, reverent—like he was trying to memorize me with his mouth. Like this was a sacred act. Like he was worshiping me with every inch of himself.

"You’re not just mine," he murmured against my collarbone. "You’re too special to belong to only one man. And that’s fine. I got over it. But seeing you with them? Hearing you with them? It took me to a level of restraint that I didn’t know I had."

His hands moved slowly down my sides, fingertips dancing across my ribs, brushing over my stomach until I trembled again beneath his touch. Then he kissed lower, and lower still, mouth blazing a trail over my skin as he shifted down the bed.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he continued, voice hoarse, breath warming my bare hip as he kissed my skin reverently. "I’ve had to pretend for so long. Pretend you were just a girl. Pretend you weren’t everything I ever dreamed about." freēwēbnovel.com

And then his mouth was everywhere.

Kisses pressed to the inside of my thighs, to the curve of my waist, to the soft space beneath my breast, like each touch was a prayer. He didn’t skip a single inch. Nothing about it was rushed. He was thorough, almost obsessive.

He worshiped me like I was made of stardust and storm, and the moment his tongue slipped between my thighs? I was gone.

My hips arched up, trying to press him even more deeply into my core, to give me everything that I wanted and needed.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating inside of me until I couldn’t stop coming... until his entire face was drenched with my sweetness.

And when he came back up to kiss me again—his body pressed fully against mine, his skin flushed, eyes dark and wild—I finally understood.

This wasn’t a man trying to claim me.

This was a god, offering everything he was to the girl who once called him Daddy with a teasing grin and never realized she already owned him.

He looked deep into my eyes, trying to find something. I don’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he seemed to have had his answer.

And then—finally—he was there, pressing into me with a slowness that felt like torture and worship all at once.

I gasped.

He kissed me again, his mouth moving with mine as our bodies tangled, every motion of his hips a declaration. It wasn’t just about pleasure. It was about claiming. About knowing. About finally being.

"You’re not just something that I protect because I want to protect someone," he whispered in my ear. "You’re the only thing I’d burn Heaven down to keep."

My heart stuttered.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think.

All I could do was feel. And God, I felt everything.

When my release hit, it was shattering. My vision blurred, my breath caught, and all I could do was hold onto him like he was the last solid thing in a world made of fire and ashes.

He followed me over the edge with a strangled sound, his body trembling as he buried his face in my neck.

We stayed tangled together for what felt like forever, until his weight shifted and he rolled onto his side, pulling me with him.

His arms wrapped around me tightly, and for the first time in my life, I felt held.

Not controlled. Not possessed.

Held.

"You fell for me," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Like a bullet to the heart," he murmured. "Your holy hands make me want to be a sinner if only you would look at me."

And me? I finally closed my eyes.

Because this time, I wasn’t scared of falling asleep.

This time, I knew I’d wake up still in his arms.