CHAPTER 19. KISS AND CONTROL #2
His lips part under mine, and I taste myself on him. He pulls me deeper, tongue sliding in, making me lightheaded.
I wrap my hand around his cock, and he shudders, a curse falling from his lips. “Fuck.”
He breaks the kiss, eyes dropping to where my hand is working him. I stroke, slow. He groans—eyes half-lidded, breathing shallow.
“Do you…” I start, suddenly awkward. “Do you have condoms?”
He nods, already pushing up. He crosses to the wardrobe—hard and gorgeous, like a Greek god—and takes out a box, then grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside table.
Seeing the condoms in his hand, I feel a sharp, needling pang of jealousy. I don’t want to ask why he has them. Don’t want to wonder who he used them with.
Then he peels off the plastic wrap, and I realize it’s a new box.
Relief floods through me. I know Xavier isn’t a virgin—no one gives head like that without serious practice—but it still comforts me more than I want to admit.
He looks up and catches me watching. Then, as if he can read my mind, he says, “I…bought them last night.” His cheeks go pink.
“When I was dying in the hospital?” I deadpan.
He freezes, his blush deepening, not sure if I’m joking. “That was when I—uh—knew you were okay,” he rushes out. “I bought them just in case.”
He looks so flustered, so caught that it’s ridiculously endearing. I can’t help it. I laugh. “I’m joking. Come here.”
Xavier crawls over the bed and leans over me but doesn’t close the distance, hovering with restraint.
“We need to order food first,” he murmurs, voice rough. “You need to eat.”
I glance down—he’s leaking, straining; his cock twitches like it hurts to hold back. Every muscle in him is pulled tight, the effort obvious.
“We can order after,” I say, reaching for him. “Come here. Please.”
He shakes his head, lips pressed thin. “I don’t want you passing out on me. Not after everything.”
A laugh slips out of me—because God, how can I be this stupidly happy. “I think you’ll be the one passing out if this isn’t taken care of.” I tip my eyes to his cock. “So come here.”
He doesn’t move. His whole body looks locked, caught between want and control.
I roll onto my stomach. My face sinks into the sheets as I lift my hips, bold enough to spike my pulse. Shameless. I know exactly what he sees.
He curses under his breath.
Then his teeth are on me. I gasp when he bites the curve of my ass—sharp enough to jolt me—then heat floods through me as he licks the sting and bites again, slower this time, his tongue following in a wet press that makes me shudder.
“Xavier—” My voice breaks on his name. “Wait—”
It sounds weak even to me, because I’m already arching into him, caught between embarrassment and the way my cock twitches against the bed. I’m painfully aware of the position I’m in, of how exposed I am. Self-conscious, yes—but gone all the same.
He spreads me open with both hands, and before I can brace for what’s coming, I feel the hot slick of his tongue slide between my cheeks.
My whole body tenses; a moan rips out of me before I can stop it.
He drags his tongue up, then down again—broader now, the pressure firmer. My cock jerks against the sheets, already hard again. I fist the sheets, trying to hold still and failing as every pass makes me writhe.
He circles my hole, teasing, then laps at it, moaning like he’s tasting dessert. Each flick pulls a groan out of me and makes my hips push back for more.
Then he presses in. His tongue breaches me—just the tip, just enough to rip a cry from my throat.
“Fuck, Xavier—”
I bury my face in the pillow, helpless, as he pulls out and sinks in again, deeper this time. My thighs tremble. My cock drags over the sheets, leaving wet streaks I can feel but can’t bring myself to care about.
He works me open with his tongue, thrust after thrust, the rhythm obscene and overwhelming and still not deep enough. I’m shaking, panting, incoherent—a mess of heat and want.
Then the cool slick of lube hits. He squeezes it straight over my hole, lets it spill, and works it in with circling strokes that pull a gasp out of me.
His long finger slides in—past the rim, down to the knuckle in one smooth push. The stretch steals my breath, thicker, heavier than his tongue, so I breathe and let myself open to it.
“Xavier—” It comes out wrecked as my chest sinks into the mattress. My body grips around him, greedy, impatience shaking through me while I picture his cock pushing in.
I look back over my shoulder. His face is intent, almost reverent, like he can’t believe I’m giving him this—still careful even as he’s finger-fucking me open.
“Fuck me, Xavier,” I beg, voice breaking. “Please. I want to feel you inside me.”
He meets my eyes, the corner of his mouth curling. “I need to prepare you first. Does that hurt?”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.
He eases a second finger in, slick with lube. The stretch bites sharper this time. I gasp and my hips jerk.
Xavier stills, watching me.
“I’m fine,” I pant. “Please—keep going.”
He nods, adds more lube, and works me open with patient strokes. He takes his time—longer than I expect—and it undoes me. I’m squirming under him, trembling, moaning when his fingers twist or spread. I can’t keep still—I keep pushing back against him.
It feels like forever before I hear the sound of foil tearing. I turn my head and see him roll the condom down his cock. He lubes himself, hand moving slow, eyes locked on my ass. The sight is almost obscene—like he’s getting off just watching me—and it makes my stomach twist with need.
Then he moves between my legs and lines himself up.
The blunt, slick head of his cock presses against my hole, nudging. I freeze. So does he.
“Easy,” he murmurs, steadying one hand on the small of my back as he pushes—just enough for the tip to slip in.
I gasp, my whole body tightening at the stretch.
He stays there, holding still, giving me time to adjust.
I try to breathe, but impatience claws at me. I want him deeper. I push back—a small, helpless move.
“Careful,” Xavier says, voice tight. He gives me another inch. The burn is sharp, but it fades as my body opens around him.
We both moan.
He waits a few seconds, then pushes again—deeper this time—another inch, then another. I gasp as he keeps going, inch by inch, until I feel all of him inside me, his cock buried to the hilt.
I’m stretched around him, full to the point of ache, and he doesn’t move—just stays deep, breathing hard, like he knows I need a moment.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
“Yes,” I say, still a little breathless. “You can move. I’m okay.” I roll my hips, just to feel the thickness of him inside me—how deep he is, how stretched I am around him, every shift sending a pulse through my gut.
Xavier’s hands find my hips. He pulls out just a little, then thrusts back in, deep, hitting a spot that makes me moan out loud, my vision blurring, ache tipping into pleasure.
“Fuck, Xavier,” I breathe, pushing back, chasing that feeling. He hits it again, and a moan rips out of me as I try to fuck myself onto him, needing more.
His grip tightens on my hips, holding the pace.
“So impatient,” he groans, and there’s a dark smirk in his voice.
He starts a slow rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in, until I feel him press right against that fucking spot.
So yeah—now I know what a prostate is. And Xavier’s making sure I never forget it.
I shudder when he thrusts harder and grazes it from another angle, the jolt making my vision spark. I curse, moans slipping out with every hit.
“Right there,” he mutters, voice close to a growl. Then he hits it again.
I cry out, clutching the sheets, my body tightening around him.
He groans but doesn’t lose control. He keeps his pace steady, grinding into me like he’s got something to prove.
My cock drags over the sheets with every thrust, throbbing, aching, begging for release—but Xavier doesn’t touch it. Doesn’t let me tip over.
“You feel that?” he rasps, bending closer, his chest pressing against my back, breath hot at my ear. “I will fuck you like this every day for the rest of your life.”
I moan, broken, pushing back into him even as my legs start to shake.
He keeps me pinned, keeps me open, his cock slamming into that spot over and over until my whole body buzzes, like I’m about to burst from pleasure.
I can’t think. I can only gasp, clutching the sheets as my cock drips helplessly. Every thrust pushes me closer, keeps me at the edge, but Xavier holds me there—doesn’t let me come.
“You’re mine,” he growls, grinding into me until I’m shaking. “You’re mine.”
I moan into the mattress, almost delirious. He fucks me fast, then slow, then fast again, unrelenting, and I’m right there, trembling with every drag of him inside me, teetering on the brink.
I can feel him getting close too, but he doesn’t give in. He just keeps going, grinding in tight, punishing circles. Determined to make me fall apart.
My arms give out. I collapse onto the sheets, gasping, every muscle shaking, desperate to come.
Xavier doesn’t falter. He just keeps fucking me with that brutal control, his hips slamming into me, his breath harsh above me. I can feel him holding back, refusing to let go, determined to make me bear it as long as he wants.
“You take me so good,” he rasps, his voice scraping over my skin. “Look at you—already falling apart for me.”
My body shakes against the mattress, a desperate moan tearing out of me. I can’t form words. Every push rocks me forward, every grind sets sparks behind my eyes.
He groans above me, hungry and rough, but doesn’t lose control. He’s proving himself—showing he can last, showing he can break me with nothing but pleasure.
“You’re mine,” he growls again, and my body clenches around him, helpless.
The orgasm keeps building, but he won’t let me go over. He draws it out, hitting my prostate again and again until I’m slick with sweat, trembling and incoherent.