LOGIN“Do not call me sexy,” Zack rasps, though his body betrays every word. “It is not a compliment if you are using it to tease me.” He tilts his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, jaw working as he tries to hold onto some shred of control. But then Anna moves again, and the control snaps like a frayed wire. His hands slide from her back to her hips, his thumbs pressing into the bone as he rolls his pelvis upward, meeting her rhythm with desperate, heavy pressure. A sweet moan escapes her mouth at his movement. Her hands wrap around his neck and she kisses him deeply.The sound of Anna’s moan– sweet, genuine, and entirely for him– is the final blow. Zack’s composure does not just crack; it shatters. He meets her kiss with a ferocity that is almost overwhelming, his tongue tangling with hers as he drinks her in like a man dying of thirst. His hands move from her hips to her hair, pulling her closer, as if he can absorb her entire bei
“You think I would say no?” Zack rasps, his voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly register. His hand at Anna’s waist tightens, his fingers digging into her skin through the dress. Her pulls her closer still, his chest heaving against hers, the heat between them nearly unbearable. “Mark me,” he commands, the words barely more than a growl. “Go ahead. Let everyone know exactly who I belong to.” He tilts his head back against the headboard, exposing the long line of his throat to her, his jaw set and his breathing ragged. His green eyes never leave hers, challenging her, daring her to follow through on the promise hanging between them. She continued sucking on his neck, her hand moving down to the metal button of his jeans.Zack’s breath hitches, a sharp, jagged sound that tears through the quiet of the room. His hands fly to Anna’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress as he feels her hand move downward. &ldq
Zack’s stomach muscles ripple and tighten under her touch, his breath coming in heavy, uneven drags. He watches Anna’s hands with a focused intensity, his jaw set as he fights to maintain even a shred of composure. “Anna,” he warns, his voice cracking slightly. It is not a request to stop– it is more like a warning to herself. He reaches up, his hands finding the hem of her dress where it meets her waist. His fingers brush against the skin there, and he freezes for a heartbeat, realizing just how thin the barrier between them has become. The warmth radiating from her is intoxicating. “You are doing this on purpose,” he murmurs, his green eyes locking onto hers. “You know exactly what you are doing to me.”Zack hands slide slowly upward, his palms flat against the fabric of Anna’s dress, pulling it taut as he begins to lift the hem of her dress, his movements deliberate and heavy with intent. “I do know exactly
“We are not in some shitty motel room,” Zack starts, his voice steady but quiet. “It is not even night. It is late afternoon, maybe, and we are at this place by the coast– the one with the old wooden pier. No crowds, just the sound of the waves hitting the rocks below us.” “I do love the ocean,” Anna commented with a genuine smile. “Go on…” his green eyes soften as he watches her smile, the blue light of the TV catching the genuine warmth in her expression. His hands stay on her hips, but his touch becomes lighter, almost hesitant. “The air is cool, but the sun is still hanging low,” he continued, his voice dropping into a slow, rhythmic cadence. “There is this late café right on the edge of the sand. We are sitting at a table outside, and you are wearing that dress– not this one, a different one, something light that catches the wind.”Zack pauses, his gaze drifting to Anna&rsqu
Zack looks at her for a long time, his dark eyes searching Anna’s as if looking for a catch. A slow, reluctant nod follows. “I promise,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He pulls her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. “I am not good at lying, anyway. I would probably fuck it up in a week.” He exhales a long, shaky breath, his body relaxing against hers in a way he rarely allows himself to do. “You are the only person who has ever asked me for something like that,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice thick. “Maybe I like the real you,” she says suggestively and pressed an open mouth kiss to his neck. “Maybe I want you to be happy,” she murmured against his skin.A low rough sound escapes Zack’s throat– half-groan, half-breath– as Anna’s lips press against his neck. His entire body jolts slightly at the sensation, his muscles t
Zack reaches for the bag of chips Anna left behind, popping one into his mouth and settling back into the pillows. The room feels a little colder without her warmth pressed against her side, and he finds himself subconsciously adjusting the blanket to cover the space she just vacated. “Hurry up,” he adds, his tone softening. “The movie is just getting to the good part.” She quickly goes to the bathroom and returns. “This is perfect,” she says as she settles beside him again.Zack does not even look up from the screen as Anna settles back in, but his hand immediately finds her waist again, pulling her flush against his side as if to make up for the lost time. “Took you long enough,” he grumbles, though there is no heat in it. He nudges her with his hip, making room for her to get comfortable. “I was about to start eating your share of the chips.” He reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a soda can and popping it op
Anna nods, absentmindedly. “Well, I just have to do an activity for biology and one exercise for chemistry,” she says softly while looking down at her textbooks. Zack watches her focused expression as she sorts through her textbooks, the quiet intensity of her movements drawing his at
“Fuck yes, I would,” Zack answers without hesitation, his voice dropping to a low growl. “I would take you places you have never been before, show you what that engine can really do when it is pushed hard.” He leans in closer, their faces now mere inches apart. The classroom noise fades into back
Zack’s gaze drops to the poem Anna is pointing at, his brow furrowing slightly as he reads the title. He leans closer, getting a better look at the poem, his initial skepticism giving way to curiosity. The title itself seems simpler than some of the other abstract options they have been looking a
Zack leans over to peer at the poem Anna has written down and scans the poem in the poetry anthology. His initial annoyance fades as he reads the title, ‘Reflection’? that sounds more interesting than ‘Daffodils Weeping at Dawm.’ “MM de wet,” he said thoughtfully, pulling his ph







