The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 39

Chapter 31-1

Zara

Clai

I gasp, and Locke stills for half a second behind me. Not stopping, not retreating. Just acknowledging my reaction. Then his hands begin moving again, slow and deliberate beneath the water, his thumbs brushing lightly over my n*****s as he washes me.

Pleasure flashes through me so sharply that I nearly arch completely against him, and I bite back a moan of pleasure, of need. At the sound, his one hand remains cupping my breast while the other slides lower, smoothing soap slowly over my hips, the sensitive inside of my thigh… and I almost pass out right here in the tub.

My body feels feverish now, every nerve ending alive beneath his hands while he continues touching me with unbearable calm. I’m becoming desperate for more, for friction, for pressure, for something, and I <now he can feel it in the way I tremble against him.

His fingers drift higher along the inside of my thigh. I make a helpless sound.

‘Patience,” he murmurs against my ear. “Breathe, baby.”

His fingertips brush lightly through the slick heat between my legs then – once, barely there, enough to make my entire body jolt.

‘Oh God,” I whimper. “Oh, God.”

His fingers glide between my pulsing p***y lips again with infuriating gentleness, never giving enough pressure to satisfy the ache building low in my body. He touches me like he already knows exactly how

esponsive I am for him, and intends to make me suffer beautifully beneath it.

I’m dizzy with wanting now, completely consumed by it. My head falls back fully against his shoulder while his hand moves between my spread thighs in slow, teasing strokes that leave me trembling harder each

time.

“Please,” I whisper before I can stop myself.

He goes still, and the silence that follows feels enormous. Then his fingers curl lightly against the inside of my thigh… not where I need him most, just close enough to make my pulse pound violently.

“Please what?” he says.

Humiliation and arousal twist together so tightly I can barely think. “I…” My breath catches helplessly. “I don’t know.”

A soft kiss touches the side of my throat. “Yes, you do.”

His voice is velvet-dark now, controlled in a way that makes the hunger beneath it infinitely more dangerous. I whimper quietly when his fingers lightly brush over my aching center again, still not enough, still nowhere near enough.

“You want something,” he murmurs. “Tell me what it is.”

My entire body burns. No one has ever made me speak my desire aloud before. No one has ever cared

Chapter 31-

Clam

enough to ask. And somehow that tenderness feels more exposing than nudity itself.

+ tremble violently in his arms before finally whispering, barely audible:

“I want your hands on me, toeke. Inside me. Touching me deep, and sweet, and hard.”

The confession trembles in the humid air between us, and for one dreadful heartbeat, I’m certain that I’ve gone too far. The words feel impossibly naked, more exposing somehow than the water lapping at my skin, more vulnerable than the way I’m tucked against him in the bath. I want to take them back almost as soon as they leave me.

Instead, his arm tightens around my waist. Not abruptly, not possessively. Simply with a quiet certainty that makes my breath catch.

“Again,” he says quietly.

I can barely think. The bathroom feels as warm and soft as a cocoon, but nothing about him feels soft now. His restraint has become something alive. I can feel it in the measured rhythm of his breathing against my shoulder. In the terrifying steadiness of the hand resting between my thighs while he waits for me to do what he says.

Instead of moving, or talking, or touching, he’s waiting. For me.

“Locke…” My voice breaks.

“Use your words, baby.”

The endearment wrecks me. Heat pulses low through my body, sharp enough to ache, and I realize dimly that he’s teaching me something far more intimate than pleasure. He’s teaching me how to ask without shame. How to want without apology.

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