Chapter 16 #3
“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, she knows 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.”
And he gives her more, his hips pressing forward, fucking her into the mattress, his mouth at her throat, his hands at her breasts, his entire body worshiping her from the inside out.
“B, I can’t . . . Are you close?” he manages to grind out, his hand falling between their bodies, a calloused thumb finding its target.
One moment she’s hanging on the precipice and the next she’s falling, the electricity running through her veins sparking into an all-consuming fire that she can’t escape, so good she doesn’t even want to try. She just allows it to rage out of control, as if she had any other choice.
He falls just after her, his body taking over, his rhythm faltering, his hips rutting forward until he stills above her, whatever strength he has left leaving him as he collapses down into her.
His weight is heavy, their skin sticking together, and when he tries to shift away from her, she stops him, wraps a leg over his hip and holds a hand against his back.
“Gonna crush you,” he mumbles against her neck.
“Stay with me,” she answers back, running her free hand up into his sweat-soaked hair. “Stay.”
The word spills off her tongue and for a half second she panics, her body tensing beneath his, because she doesn’t want him to just stay here, on top of her, still inside of her while fiery sparks are still making her twitch from the total destruction they just wrought between them, but because she wants him to stay.
With her.
Forever.
And he’s not going to.
He has dreams and ambitions and it isn’t even something she’d change about him if she could. She loves his passion. She loves how much he believes in the cause he’s dedicating his life to.
She loves him.
And she wants him to stay.
And she can never ask him to.
He must feel her tense, because a second later, he rolls off onto his back and she whimpers softly at the loss of him.
“That was . . .” He trails off. “Shit, I don’t even have a word. Bet you never thought you’d see the day, huh?”
He’s joking. She can hear the laughter in his voice. That’s . . . that’s good. He isn’t feeling what she’s feeling.
It’s just their circumstances, the proximity, the act. The other night at Erik’s house when she thought he was feeling something she must have been wrong.
She just had to fuck it up and fall in love with him.
And she can’t even blame him.
This is on her and she doesn’t know what to do.
Because she should call it off. It’s not fair to him. Not fair to her either.
But she can’t. She won’t.
She’s selfish and saying goodbye to him now?
It’s impossible.
There’s a ticking clock on this. There always has been. There’s no harm in just waiting for it to run down and to try and make the most of this time, knowing that the only person she’s hurting is herself.