Chapter 19 #3
I cry out as he shoves two or perhaps three fingers into me without warning. Not that the last few seconds suggested any other development. Not that I wanted to not consent at any point during this assault.
It’s delicious. It’s wild. It’s ridiculously hot.
He pulls out and pushes back in almost aggressively. And it still isn’t enough. The need to be filled by him is visceral.
“I. Am.” Thrust. “Your.” Thrust. “Future.” Thrust. “Husband.”
Can I come in under one minute? Probably, yes.
Do I enjoy the savage attack? Definitely, yes.
Xander might be dominant and seemingly out of control, but he’s still putting me first.
My former fiancé never did, even though I didn’t know it at the time. My current fiancé has yet to do anything selfish during sex.
I can barely breathe with his weight against me, but I meet his thrusts with wanton abandon. The pleasure builds up, flooding my entire body, ready to crescendo.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant, probably scandalizing all my neighbors.
My knees tremble, my pussy throbs, my breathing is ragged.
And then cold air hits me. I almost collapse to the floor, completely dazed. He’s gone.
“What the hell, Xander!” I turn.
He sits in the armchair, tapping his fingers on the armrest. “I don’t feel very friendly right now.”
The bastard.
“You can’t just leave me like this.” I step forward but almost tumble, my shorts still around my knees. I shove them down and step out of them, my legs still shaking, my arousal wet between my legs.
“And yet, here we are,” he teases.
Asshole. His cock is practically tearing through his pants, so if he wants to play this game…
“If you don’t fuck me right now, Xander, the deal is off. What did you want me to tell them? What is this even?”
He rakes his gaze from my hairline to my tiptoes languidly. It’s like he is touching me, his stare burning my skin. I wish I didn’t enjoy this game.
I’m still mad at him, but this delay is strangely provoking in a very tantalizing way.
“I’m your husband. And you’re my wife.”
There is something in his tone that speaks directly to my core. Maybe the emphasis on my wife. Or perhaps the desire in his eyes. He sits a few feet from me, but he owns me.
I should laugh. I should protest. I should assert my independence. The entire exchange is ridiculous, and yet the undercurrent of commitment rings in his words. And that’s what my hormone-crazed mind latches onto.
It must be the hormones, because I shouldn’t get turned on when my fake not-yet-husband claims me like that… like I truly belong to him. Like we just said our vows.
“You’re not. Not yet,” I breathe.
His hooded gaze speeds up my heartbeat. I feel it in my stomach where a kaleidoscope of butterflies flutters. That heated, worshiping look burns in my core.
“Take off the shirt,” he demands.
I blink a few times before my hands flee to the hem of my shirt, and I pull it over my head. It floats to the floor and lands at my feet.
“Your bra, too,” he rasps, no longer tapping. He is gripping the armrests now.
I unhook my bra and let it fall.
I shiver, not from cold, but from the weight of his devouring gaze. I never thought that standing in front of a man naked could be this empowering.
While I would only see flaws, it’s clear Xander sees anything but. His grip on the armrests is white-knuckled now.
“Crawl to me, Coraline.”
Dear God. The air fills with potent sensuality. With wanton filth. With delightful darkness.
He sits there like a king, waiting, dominating the dynamics of this situation. I can refuse, but why the fuck would I?
I lick my lips.
I take a deep breath, my entire body trembling.
I place my hand on the door, because I don’t trust my legs.
My head spins with desire. His eyes burn with equal need.
The moment of silence stretches while he dares me patiently, and I stall because the tension is too tantalizing.
He issued the order, but it’s me who holds the cards. And I want the fucking experience.
I lower myself to my knees, my heart throbbing in my temples. His eyes flash with approval, and it’s all I need to channel my inner temptress. One I didn’t even know existed.
The distance is very short, but I take my time, swaying my hips, my chin high, my eyes glued to his.
His jaw twitches.
His gaze is ablaze.
His fingers tremble slightly.
His chest rises and falls unevenly.
All his reactions thrum through my body as I kneel between his legs.
“No touching.” I issue an order of my own. The guttural sound that rumbles through his chest is approving and desperate.
“You’re enjoying this, little minx.” His voice is hoarse, but there is no doubt he’s enjoying it equally.
I unzip his pants and hook my fingers in the waistband of his briefs, peeling them out. His freed cock springs out, glistening with pre-cum.
“You might not be my friend, but you’re not my husband either. You’re my fiancé only.” I extend my ring finger. “And even that is questionable.”
He fists my hair and captures my lips. It’s messy and desperate. Tongues dueling. Teeth clashing. Lust growing.
Xander yanks me onto his lap without disconnecting the kiss. I’m straddling him now, his rigid length rubbing against my pussy. The moan the friction draws from me is animalistic.
He reaches for the condoms, his lips and teeth everywhere at the same time. My skin tingles under his touch.
“I need you. Now!” I snatch the condom from his hands, and he chuckles.
Getting rid of the wrapper, I roll it on slowly as we both watch. Once he is sheathed, I lift my gaze, and fuck—
There is no doubt in my mind that he needs me as much as I need him.
At least in this moment.