CHAPTER 19. KISS AND CONTROL #3
“Say it,” he seethes against the back of my neck, thrusting deep until I’m sobbing into the sheets. “Say that you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I cry out, barely able to breathe.
Xavier chuckles, low and dark, and his grip shifts. One hand leaves my hip, slides under my uninjured thigh, and pulls my leg up until my knee hooks high, opening me even wider for him. The stretch makes me gasp.
“Fuck—” The word breaks from me as he thrusts again, harder, hitting so deep I can’t stop trembling.
“Better,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear. “You’ll sleep in my bed from now on. Every fucking night. You hear me?”
“Yes,” I moan helplessly, the sound muffled in the mattress.
“You belong to me,” he says, thrusting again—slow, punishing—grinding in until I whimper. “I’ll be the only one to fuck you for the rest of your life.”
My cock throbs against the sheets, dripping. My body betrays me, even as shame and heat twist together low in my gut.
Suddenly, Xavier pulls out, leaving me clenching around nothing.
Before I can protest, he grabs me by the hips—careful not to disturb the injured leg—and flips me onto my back like I weigh nothing.
My legs splay wide, my chest heaving, and then he’s there—pressing back in with one long thrust that makes me cry out.
This angle is worse. Or better. He can see everything. Every gasp, every twitch, every mess I’m making. He braces my knees up high, folding me open, and fucks me hard. Fast. No patience left.
Then it hits me—white-hot and unstoppable.
I come with a shout, my body arching off the bed, untouched cock spilling over my stomach and chest. The orgasm rips through me so hard I’m shaking, sobbing, clutching at his arms as he keeps driving into me.
“Good boy,” Xavier rasps, his voice dark, wrecked.
The words sear into me, make me clench tighter around him. That’s when he breaks.
He comes with a rough, guttural cry, biting into my neck, his whole body trembling as he thrusts through it, still pounding even as he spills into the condom. His breath is ragged against my skin, his voice hoarse as he chants into my throat, “Mine. All mine. Gonna keep you like this. Forever.”
He keeps grinding, groaning, muttering it over and over as the last of him spills out, his cock still throbbing deep inside me.
It takes forever before Xavier finally stills above me, chest heaving. His weight sinks into me, his breath hot against my neck. For a few minutes, he doesn’t move—just holds himself there, trembling faintly.
Then he pulls back a little, his eyes flicking to mine. The darkness is gone, replaced by something hesitant, almost shy.
“You okay?” he asks, voice rough. His hand slides up my side, gentle now, tracing over the sweat on my skin. “Did I…did I hurt you?”
I blink at him, still reeling, my chest rising and falling. The sting at my neck throbs where he bit me, my muscles ache from how hard he fucked me, and I’ve never felt more wrecked in my life. But I shake my head.
“No,” I whisper. It comes out broken, but I can’t stop the grin that pulls at my mouth.
His brows knit, like he doesn’t believe me. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. He shifts his weight, suddenly awkward, not meeting my eyes. “I shouldn’t have—I just—” He cuts himself off, looking almost ashamed.
I stare at him, stunned. He’s apologizing? After what he just did?
A laugh escapes me—breathless, shaky. “Sorry?” I echo. “Xavier, that was…” I trail off. I don’t even have the words.
His gaze flicks up, cautious, as if he’s bracing for me to hate it.
“That was the hottest thing anyone’s ever done to me,” I finish.
His face flushes deeper, and he blinks at me, caught between relief and disbelief.
I reach up, cup the back of his neck, and pull him down for a kiss—slow this time, tender. My lips still buzz with the taste of sex, my whole body humming with the aftershocks.
And I know I want him to do it again. Every fucking day for the rest of my life.
Xavier pulls out, careful, like he’s afraid I’ll break. I shiver at the loss, my body sensitive everywhere. He strips off the condom, ties it, then tosses it on the floor.
For a second, he goes still, looking lost, then lies beside me, close but stiff, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed. I turn my head and look at him. His cheeks are still red, his chest rising and falling fast, his eyes avoiding mine.
“You’re quiet,” I murmur, brushing his arm with my fingers.
He swallows hard. “I’m sorry,” he says again, a flicker of shame in his voice. “I don’t know what—I shouldn’t have—”
I grin, unable to stop it. “You really think I didn’t like that?”
His eyes dart to me, nervous, then drop again.
“Xavier,” I laugh, half-disbelieving. “You just fucked me senseless and made me come without even touching my cock. And you think I’m mad?”
He covers his face with his hand, groaning. “I lost control. I didn’t mean to…say those things out loud.”
I shift closer, tugging his hand down so I can see him again. “What, the part where you said I’m yours? Or the part where you said you want to fuck me for the rest of my life?”
His face goes crimson.
I smirk, leaning in, my voice low in his ear. “You’ve been thinking about that, haven’t you? Was that one of your dark little fantasies about me?”
He tenses, embarrassed, like I’ve just pulled a secret straight out of him. “Newt—”
“Don’t look so horrified,” I tease, planting a quick kiss on his jaw. “That was insanely hot.”
He lets out a shaky breath, still red, flustered, but I can see it—how stupidly in love he is, even when he’s ashamed of what he just let slip. And it makes me want him even more.
Xavier still looks like he wants to hide under the sheets, but instead he clears his throat and shifts, propping himself on one elbow. “You need to eat,” he says, serious. “What do you want?”
I smile, still sprawled against the pillows. “Sushi.”
He nods, decisive, and reaches for his phone. We lie there side by side as he scrolls, his brow furrowed in concentration. A minute later, I realize he’s not stopping. He just keeps adding.
“Xavier,” I say, laughing. “That’s enough. You’re not ordering for a soccer team.”
“You need to eat,” he repeats, not looking up. “You just burned through half your strength. You need it back.”
I can’t stop grinning. “Well, yeah, but I don’t need a hundred rolls.”
“You’ll thank me later,” he mutters, tapping in the final order.
Before I can tease him again, he’s swinging his legs off the bed. He pulls on his boxers and disappears into the bathroom. I hear the faucet run, then he’s back, a wet towel in his hand.
“Xavier—” I start, but he’s already leaning over me, wiping me down carefully, like I’m breakable.
I lie still, watching him fuss over every inch of me, his jaw set, his eyes soft when they flick up to check my face. The tenderness almost undoes me more than anything else tonight.
When he’s satisfied, he tosses the towel aside, grabs the comforter, climbing in beside me again, then wraps us both. His arms come around me, pulling me close, his chin resting on top of my head.
“You’re ridiculous,” I mumble against his chest, smiling.
“Shut up,” he mutters, but his hand is rubbing circles into my back.
I tilt my head up, grinning. “You know, for someone who just fucked me like you owned me, you’re awfully domestic.”
His face goes red for what has to be the tenth time, and I laugh, kissing his jaw as he groans.
We lie there facing each other, the comforter pulled around us, his arm heavy over my waist. His eyes stay on me, tender, unguarded, and it makes my chest tighten. I’m not used to being looked at like this.
I shift, heat rushing to my face. “What?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “What are you thinking?”
Xavier’s cheeks burn harder, but he doesn’t look away. His voice drops low, almost shy. “That I love you.”
My breath catches. For a second, I can’t even speak—and when I finally do, my voice is barely a whisper. “I love you too.”
The words hang between us, and I can’t help but smile. Xavier smiles back, but his eyes give him away—there’s tension there, a quiet unease, like he doesn’t quite know how to rest in this. Because the moment something feels this good, it also feels fragile.
I see it in him because I feel it too. The happiness is overwhelming, but braided through it is fear—fear of how much it matters now, how unbearable it would be to lose it. It aches in my chest in the way something precious always does when you finally realize how much you need it.
He leans in and kisses me—light, almost chaste, as if he’s afraid of breaking the moment. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes over my cheek. “Sleep. I’ll wake you when the food gets here.”
I want to argue, say I’m not tired—but it’s pointless. My body’s already heavy, eyelids dragging. Instead, I just nod, resting my cheek against his bare chest. His warmth surrounds me. I breathe him in, and sleep takes me before I can form another thought.
***
When I wake, I have no idea what time it is. For a second, I’m not even sure where I am—just that I’m warm, wrapped in a comforter, limbs heavy with rest. Then I realize I’m still in Xavier’s arms, his chest solid against my back, one arm loose around my waist.
I blink up at him. He’s already awake, watching me, his eyes soft in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“Hi,” I say, smiling at him.
“Hi,” he says, smiling back. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” I admit. Better than good, actually. My body’s sore, but I feel more rested than I have in weeks. The dull ache in my head that’s been trailing me for days is finally gone. “Are you okay?” I ask, trying to read his face.
Xavier nods, still smiling. Then he leans in and plants a quick kiss on my lips, as if he can’t help himself. He tastes like toothpaste and something sweet.
“What time is it?” I mumble.
“Six.”
My eyes widen. “Six? I slept all day?”
He nods, looking amused.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“I did. Woke up twenty minutes ago. Took a shower.”