Chapter 18 #2
This shouldn’t be this different. This shouldn’t be this addictive. It shouldn’t feel this novel.
I continue pumping and licking while she comes apart, letting her ride the wave while I desperately need to take care of the painful situation in my briefs.
But there will be time for that. This woman trusted me to finally get closer; she deserves a couple of orgasms before I take one from her.
Her body is still twitching with the last waves of release when I pull myself up, kissing my way along her ribs, the swell of her breasts, her clavicle.
I look up, grinning, but my smirk disappears when I see her. She immediately covers her face with her forearm. Is she crying?
“Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” For the second time in a brief span of barely three days, my heart rate spikes from worry. What the fuck happened?
She sniffles. “I’m fine.” She rubs her eyes with the heels of her palms. “I’m more than fine.”
I sag beside her, flipping my leg over hers. “Look at me, woman.”
She sniffles again and turns to me, her eyes glistening. “I’m sorry.”
I wipe a tear from her cheek, my hand tracing her cheekbone. I want to pry answers from her, but I don’t think she needs to be bullied right now for the sake of my ego. So I kiss her instead.
“Fair warning. I’m officially addicted to your pussy.”
She giggles. “Thank God for that.”
I take her nipple between my lips, and she arches into me. “So fucking responsive. I love it.”
She watches me through heavy lids, flushed and slightly dazed. I kiss her lips again, slow and deep, her taste still on my tongue. Her arms wrap around me, and for a moment we just breathe together.
“As much as I want to slide home, condoms are in my pants.”
“Condoms? Plural?” she grins.
“Only two, unfortunately. I will have more delivered.”
“Oh my God, don’t you dare. I don’t want a delivery man bringing us condoms.”
“Using condoms is responsible. It’s like a PSA for safe sex.”
She laughs. “Having someone deliver condoms to us is public service?”
I nod, kissing her forehead. “Stop distracting me.” I jump out of bed and rush to find the condoms.
I tear the wrapper with my teeth as I return. Her breath catches as I roll it on to my stiff cock and climb back, hovering above her on my elbows. “You okay? No regrets.”
She nods, biting her lip. “Stop talking before they consume me.”
I position the tip of my cock, brushing against her entrance. “I’ll make you forget your own name before I let you regret a second of this.”
I thrust slowly, watching her face as I fill her. Her lips part, brows knitting in a perfect mix of pleasure and surprise.
“Jesus, Xander—”
“I know, sweetheart. You feel like fucking heaven.”
I give her a moment to adjust, savoring the way her body stretches around me, gripping me like it already knows what we are.
“Move,” she rasps.
I obey. First with long, deep strokes. Her legs wrap around my waist, and her nails drag down my back.
She lifts her hips to meet me, every motion matching mine, her walls clenching around me like she’s never going to let me go.
Her moans, my grunts, our bodies sheathed with sweat—they all blend into a haze of sensation rippling through us. We’re fused into one as our pleasure builds.
“Harder,” she gasps.
Fuck, this woman will be the death of me.
I pull out and flip her over, hiking her hips in the air. “You better hold on.”
I ram into her, and she cries a prolonged yes. From this angle, I hit the spot that makes her tremble and gasp.
“You’re mine, Coraline,” I growl, thrusting harder.
“For now,” she moans, but her voice cracks.
Fucking woman. The death of me. Nothing comes easy with her. I fist her hair and pull her to me. She angles her face, and I take her lips. I take it the way I take her body—completely.
And then I stop moving.
She groans. “What the fuck, Xander?”
“Say it. Say you’re mine.”
I don’t know where the need is coming from, but it feels like a vital surrender on her part. Like that is the missing piece of the puzzle in this relationship. One that is not conventional, and probably doomed already.
Her concession wouldn’t mean anything in this context, and yet I’m obsessed and need to coax it from her.
“You’re insane.”
I slam into her, making her gasp again as she falls to her hands. “Say it.”
She pushes her hips to me. “I’m yours. Fuck. I’m yours.” Frustration and truth lace her words. Or at least that’s what I want to hear.
I start a piston-like tempo, chasing the release we both need.
She tightens around me when she comes again, her body arching into mine. I groan, my climax slamming into me like a freight train, and I spill into her with a curse, burying my face in her neck.
In the sea of orgasms I have experienced in my life, this one takes me by surprise. What is it about this woman?
We collapse beside each other, tangled in sweat and breathless satisfaction. She brushes my hair back from my forehead, her fingers light, affectionate.
“You still don’t know how many cats I have,” she murmurs.
I grin against her skin. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world to count them.”
And for once, the idea of forever doesn’t feel like a trap.
It feels like a plan.