My spine arches from the mattress when his tongue delves through my cleft in one swift motion, drawing my clit in, humming at the sound that bursts through my lips, a sound I haven't voiced in years. He's as bold as he ever was, spreading my thighs wider to bury himself deep—his tongue thrashing and dedicated, undeterred. Hewillget me there. He doesn't need to say it. His mouth does. With a steady hand against my navel, he pins me down, locked in his grasp.
My eyes are on the ceiling, but they're elsewhere. Lost in the release that's swiftly building under his resolute mouth. He nods when my gaze wanders down to him, utterly dark in this darkened room, before he closes them, his fingers digging into my bucking hips.
Oh.
“Xavier…"
Oh.
My calves stiffen first, then the rest of me.
Oh,fuck?—
I convulse under the force of a devastatingly cathartic—goddamnlife-altering—orgasm, a liberation that swarms tears in my eyes, tears that scale the sides of my face as he catches his breath against my thigh.
Thisis what it feels like.
I remember.
His fingers touch me so lightly where all the nerves have culminated, watching me shudder, unable to handle the power of my body. More importantly, whathecan do to it.
"We can stop here," he rasps, his voice so clearly needing the opposite. He's still thinking of me—of my wounds—even in this moment.
My hands slide onto his shoulders, urging him back to me wordlessly. My fingers claw at the ridges of his back until his mouth has fallen into mine. His arms, bent beside my head, sustain his weight as he lowers himself between my quivering thighs, skin-to-skin. No barriers.
Our eyes meet.
His fingers swipe damp wisps of my hair away from my eyes so gently. An unspoken decision—a gamble at best—settles between us. He's already positioned, our bodies naturally primed for each other.
His left hand captures my face, and then his right, his eyes locked on mine as he hauls in an unsteady breath, driving his hips forward.
My eyes slam shut.
All desire abandons me in a single movement, making way for haunting images. Images I wish I could expel from my mind. The sounds I’m making must be brutal, as Xavier’s twisted voice grows frantic, urging me to return to him.
But I'm in that cell.
I'm absolutely terrified.
"Look at me," Xavier whispers softly, achingly. "Sophie, look at me."
My eyes slowly separate, my nails retracting from his skin. We're on an island, in his bedroom. The air is warm, not cold. The bedding is soft, not firm concrete.
Thunder rolls across the atmosphere, followed by a sharp crash of lightning that bangs the shutters into the windows.
Even when I flinch from the sound, Xavier is constant, refusing to let me stray from him. Because of that, I feel myself nod. Over and over and over again until he understands that I’m as desperate as he is.
Bring on the demons. The horror. The pain.
I can take it. For him, I can do anything.
My heart is ramming in my chest when he presses his forehead to my damp cheek, groaning weakly. My eyes fall closed, savoring the sound, a deep wavelength for my ears alone.
"Make love to me," I breathe against him, entwining my hand with his, bringing it up to my mouth. He's shivering—restraining himself—but it's more than that. So much more.
He drags himself from me and back in, filling me until my breath is gone. Stolen.
With our bodies fused as if they were always meant to be one, he holds my gaze until he's sure I can do this. Then he kisses me, and that kiss speaks of everything still unsaid.
