CHAPTER 15. STORM #2
“Oh…God,” I mutter, my face going hot. “I’m sorry.”
His arms fold tighter across his chest. “Don’t pity me,” he says, turning away again. I can hear it—the hurt he’s trying to hide.
“I’m not,” I say—and to my own surprise, I let out a quiet laugh. Not because it’s funny. Just because my heart’s kind of exploding. “Why would I pity you?” I say softly.
Xavier looks at me again, cautious now, like he’s bracing for whatever comes next.
Something lifts in my chest—light, warm.
“Come here,” I say. “Please. I can’t exactly chase you down with this leg.”
He hesitates, just for a beat, then climbs back into bed. I pull him in right away—no hesitation, not after what he just told me.
We lie there, face to face. I wrap my arms around him, and he closes his eyes, still not looking at me. I reach up, brush his cheek, my fingers tracing the scratch of his stubble.
“So all of this…that was really you?” I whisper, still not quite believing it.
“If you’re about to ask again…” Xavier mutters, eyes still closed, a flicker of annoyance in his voice.
“Sorry,” I say quietly. “It’s just…I never suspected. I didn’t even know if you…erm…liked men.”
His eyes open slowly, locking on mine. “I’m gay, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Cool,” I say, heart skipping. “So you’re in love with me.”
Xavier just looks at me, brow drawn. “Yes.”
I smile, not sure how it’s possible to feel even happier—but I do.
“Good,” I murmur. “Because I’m in love with you too.”
He goes completely still—like the words caught him off guard, like he doesn’t quite believe them. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe I’ve done too good a job hiding it all this time.
So instead of pushing, I lean in and kiss him.
At first, he just blinks at me—stiff, unsure—then his eyes flutter shut, and he melts into it.
I don’t let it stay soft—I kiss him like I want him. Until it’s breathless and messy, wet and hungry. All tongue and heat.
His face tightens in that way I know now. That expression—serious, focused, barely holding back. That’s how Xavier Ormond looks when he’s turned on.
I slip my hand under the comforter, gliding down his chest, over the firm lines of his stomach. The sheer audacity of touching him so freely makes my breath catch, my skin buzzing.
When I reach lower and find him hard through his pajama pants, a rush of heat floods through me. He lets out a low, guttural sound and grabs my wrist—tight, almost desperate.
“Newt,” he breathes against my mouth, voice unsteady. “I’m not…joking.”
“Me neither,” I whisper, kissing him again, my other hand at the back of his neck. Xavier freezes for a second, then kisses me back—and soon we’re breathless again.
I pull his shirt off. He lets me, watching—dazed—as I trail kisses down his chest, over his pecs and abs, shifting lower on the bed. I push the comforter aside, ignoring the pull in my leg.
My face lines up with his hips. As I ease his pants and boxers down and free him—hard, already aching—he tenses, one hand finding my cheek.
“Your leg,” he says, hoarse. “You shouldn’t…”
“I’m using my mouth, not my leg,” I say with a quiet laugh, nuzzling his cock, breathing in the clean scent of him.
Xavier shudders beneath me.
“Newt,” he whispers, chest rising fast. “I’m not going to last. Not with you.”
My breath catches. The words go straight to my core, heat curling low in my belly. I didn’t know how much I wanted to hear that until now.
“Who says you have to?” I smile, then drag my tongue slowly across the tip.
He lets out a soft, helpless “Fuck,” one hand slipping into my hair. “Oh God, Newt.”
My name on his lips sounds downright filthy.
I lean in and begin kissing along the length of him—slow, wet, unhurried. I look up as I go, meeting his eyes. Let this sink into him—this moment, this want—so if he ever doubts how much I mean it, how long I’ve meant it, he’ll know.
Xavier just stares—frozen, breath shallow—his fingers still curled in my hair. I wrap a hand around the base of him, guide him to my mouth, and close my lips over the tip. I start slow, sucking gently, flicking my tongue under the crown.
He shudders, lets out a low, strangled, “Fuck.” His grip tightens in my hair—not pulling, just holding, like he needs something to hang onto.
I take him deeper, my throat stretching around him—messy, imperfect—but I doubt he cares. His hips shift forward, chasing more.
I hum softly, encouraging him, and the vibration makes his hips jerk. I moan, just enough to let him know I want this—need this.
That’s what breaks him.
His other hand finds my jaw, fingers gentle, thumb brushing my cheek—and then he starts to move. Slow at first, controlled. But not for long.
I meet his rhythm, hollowing my cheeks, dragging my tongue along the underside of his cock. He watches—eyes low, lips parted—and then the restraint snaps.
“Newt…” he growls, voice rough. “Fuck… fuck…”
A few more thrusts and he shudders, coming hard in my mouth with a groan—one hand gripping my chin, the other still tangled in my hair. I swallow everything, his taste heady on my tongue, my head spinning—not just from the lack of air.
When it’s over, I pull back, catching my breath, lips swollen. Xavier stares down at me, wide-eyed.
“Jesus, are you okay?” he asks, voice frayed, already reaching to pull me back up onto the pillows.
I laugh, still breathless. “I’m great. You?”
“Yes,” he whispers, like he can’t quite believe it. His hand finds my cheek, thumb brushing my skin, eyes locked on mine. He’s breathing hard, staring at me like I’m unreal—then leans in, kissing my cheeks, my chin, my mouth. Urgent, messy, full of need.
I can’t stop smiling, giddy and a little stunned.
“Newt,” Xavier breathes between kisses. He sounds flustered, completely wrecked. God—hearing Xavier Ormond come apart like this because of me—it’s unreal. I feel high on it. I don’t even care that my leg hurts, though somewhere in the back of my mind, I hope I’m not bleeding all over the sheets.
When he lifts up and starts to shift, I realize what he’s doing and catch his face.
“Xavier,” I say. “It’s okay, you don’t have to…reciprocate.”
He freezes, frowning like I just said I don’t want him. “Why?”
“I—I don’t think my leg can take it,” I add quickly.
“Alright,” he says, lying back down beside me, face gone blank like I dumped a bucket of ice on him. “Sorry.”
“But I do want it,” I say, before he can spiral, taking his hand and guiding it to where I’m aching under my boxers. “I want you.”
Just hearing those words does something to him. Xavier leans in to kiss me again, tongue parting my lips, his hand squeezing my cock—and I moan, the pressure breaking whatever restraint I had left.
“You’re so hard,” he whispers, fingers slipping under the waistband of my boxers, finding me. “I’ll be gentle.”
I let out a shaky breath, head tipping back. “Xavier…”
His hand wraps around me, thumb dragging over the head, spreading pre-cum. My hips twitch—reflexive—and he hums, pleased I’m already starting to lose it. His strokes are careful, not too tight—focused, like he’s making sure it feels good without putting strain on my leg.
I glance down—watch his hand move over me—then back at Xavier. His lashes low, mouth parted, completely focused. Like he’s studying what wrecks me most.
Then he pauses. Pulls away. I almost protest—but he reaches into the bedside drawer and pulls out a bottle of lube.
Fuck. The fact that Xavier Ormond keeps that within reach undoes me in a whole new way.
I watch him squirt a generous amount into his palm, then rub his hands together to warm it. When he wraps that slick hand around me again, it’s so good I can’t even imagine what his mouth would feel like. I let out a ragged breath.
“Is it your leg?” he asks, glancing up, worried.
“No,” I breathe. “It’s just—really fucking good.”
Xavier huffs a quiet laugh, then kisses me again, his hand still working in that slow, maddening rhythm. The wet sound of lube around my cock is obscene, and his tongue teases mine like he’s showing off what else it can do.
My cock’s throbbing. I’m so close I can barely breathe. I gasp, hips twitching—but Xavier instantly slows down, keeping me right there on the edge. Just enough to make me ache, not enough to push me over.
“Xavier—”
He shushes me with another kiss, then shifts lower, mouth brushing along my neck as his hand changes rhythm. Short strokes. A squeeze. Then back to slow again.
I’m panting, muscles locked, every nerve pulled tight.
He brushes his thumb over the head and pulls back just enough to watch me moan, eyes dark. “Are you close?”
I nod—barely.
And he stops. Just fucking stops. He watches me, clearly enjoying how desperate I am.
“Xavier,” I whisper, grabbing for his wrist, but he only chuckles and kisses me again—deep and slow, clearly intent on wrecking me.
I’ve never seen him like this. Controlled. Relentless. Dark in a way that ruins me.
Then his hand’s back on me, bringing me right to the edge.
“Xavier,” I choke out. “Please—”
He chuckles and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “All right.” His hand is back on me, dragging me to the brink of madness—but this time he doesn’t stop. His mouth grazes my ear, his voice a low growl. “I want to see you come.”
That does it. I’m gone—body jerking, breath splintering, moaning his name as I come hard into his hand. He keeps going until I’ve got nothing left, flushed and lightheaded, chest rising and falling.
Xavier wipes his hand on the corner of the comforter and lies down beside me without a word, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, his mood completely shifted. I’m still catching my breath, muscles slack, the room quiet now.
I glance over. “How are you so good at this?” I murmur, already drifting, half-asleep.
He smirks, then leans in and kisses me—slow, unhurried. Like we’ve got all the time in the world.
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