“What?”
“How good you fucking feel in my hands. These curves’ll be the death of me.”
His voice is a rumble in his chest that echoes directly into hers and she gasps as his hands squeeze gently and then with more purpose, turning her gasp into a completely uncontrollable moan. He lifts her and kicks the door shut behind them as he carries her over to her bed. When her back hits the mattress, she loops her arms around his shoulders and pulls him on top of her.
“You keep saying that and you keep surviving,” she manages to quip despite the incredible sensations he’s drawing out of her body.
“Tempting fate, every damn time,” he whispers into her neck before sucking a bruising kiss into the skin there.
Their clothes are tossed away before he trails his mouth down her body, his tongue tracing pathways up over the rise of each breast, to the underside of her rib cage and down over the gentle curve of her stomach, circling her belly button, making her laugh at how it tickles as he looks up at her with a boyish grin at the sound.
“No tickling,” she says, and with a quick twist of her hips, she has him on his back, rising up over him and settling down on the firm planes of his stomach.
His hands fall to her thighs and then around to her ass, following the slow, torturous circles she’s making with her hips, guiding her lower until his dick is pressed between them.
“Fuck,” he curses.
“I want you inside me.”
“Whatever you want. I’m all yours.”
She believes it, knows it with everything in her heart and in her mind, that whatever she asks of him, he’ll give her.
And it’s the scariest thing she’s ever heard in her life.
“I just want you,” she says, rising up, “all I want is you.”
And that’s the scariest thing she’s ever said in her life.
Because it’s true.
It’s enough to make her hesitate, to stop and just look into his eyes for a moment and then another.
He lifts a hand to her cheek, caressing it with more tenderness than she’s ever felt, and he sits up, his mouth finding hers again while he wraps an arm around her, holding her close as he turns them over, her back sinking into the bed, her legs falling open to cradle him against her.
“Yes,” she whispers against his ear, her hand sliding from his shoulder toward her nightstand. There are condoms there, sheknows it, buried somewhere near the back of the top drawer, but she can’t reach them.
He takes his cue perfectly, just like he always has when they’re together like this, and leans over to find them for her, and when his hand reappears from the depths of the drawer, a foil packet between his fingers, she sighs in relief.
“Thank God,” she murmurs as he pulls away to slide it into place.
“God’s got nothing to do with this, boss. Just you and me,” he rasps as he guides himself into her.
“Please,” she gasps.
“Anything,” he whispers again as she arches against him. “You can have anything you want, boss.” With a hand spanning her thigh, he lifts it gently up against his ribs and presses forward again.
Little sparks go off behind her eyes and her hands scramble against his shoulders and back trying to find purchase there, to find anything that will ground her to the earth. “Yes, right there. Holy shit, Xavier. Yes.”
“That’s the spot?” he asks, through gritted teeth, though he has to know it is.
Her body is absolutely out of her control now; she’s given over fully to sensation. She’s never felt anything like it. She’s had good sex before, great sex even, but this isn’t that. This is something else entirely, something primal, something fixed, as if she were always meant to find him, to know him, to be with him this way.
As their bodies move together, finding a punishing rhythm, she has to fight the words back, fight down the need to say everything to him. To tell him she needs him. To tell him she loves him. To ask him to stay with her, forever.
She can’t say any of that though, so she settles on what she can tell him.
“Xavier, more, I need more.”
