Chapter 17
X ander stared intently down at Eleanor’s scantily-clad body. She was on her side, a pillow hugged to her tightly, and her naked thigh was crossed over, giving the most perfect view of her pert backside. Her curls were a tangled mess on the pillows.
He had meant to teach her a lesson, but he had made a grave mistake. The pleasure he found within Eleanor’s body rivaled anything he had felt- and they had not even consummated their marriage yet. He had lost himself in her, giving in to his sexual needs instead of his need for control, and had made her thighs shake with his tongue until she had passed out from the pleasure.
Normally, he would be proud of such a venture. But, as he recognized the affection growing in his heart for the woman laid before him, fear snuck up on him. Xander pulled his eyes away from Eleanor and looked toward the open window. The moon was nearly full, and shed a pale light over her nymphlike figure.
Desire rose in him, making his cock stir. He wanted more. So much more. For a moment, he grappled with the urge to get back into bed. To pull her close to him, wake her up once more with his tongue, and claim so badly what he wanted to. Disturbed by how much he wanted just that, Xander finished getting dressed, forced himself to walk out the door, and only when he was in the hallway did he allow himself to stop and breathe.
Checking his pocket watch, he saw that it was ten. Far too early for Rhys to be home. He was no doubt at the club, probably with Patrick in the ring. Perfect. That would be all that he needed.
“You. Out.” Xander demanded to Patrick as he strode into the club’s back boxing room.
Patrick looked over at Rhys with an arched brow as Xander began to pull off his shirt, but Rhys only rolled his eyes and motioned with his head for him to leave the ring. With a sigh, Patrick shook his head and headed toward the cords.
“You have fouled my mood and my wife’s, Larsen,” Rhys informed him as Xander got into the ring. “You might not want to do this.”
“You think your evening is ruined?” Xander snorted, wrapping his knuckles. His body was vibrating with tension, and if he did not let it out soon, he truly feared what was going to happen.
“Gloves?” Rhys asked, moving into his stance as Xander came toward him.
“I would rather not,” Xander said gruffly, moving into his stance.
“Fine,” Rhys sighed, going up to the balls of his feet. “It is your bruises.”
Xander had Rhys eating his words at first, his punches and kicks landing with force and precision as they went through the first four rounds. But, as the fifth round began, his strength no longer matched his anger, and in growing frustration, he began making mistakes. He was soon losing. Badly.
“You have had enough?” Rhys panted as he took Xander to the mat.
“No,” he said through ragged breaths, pushing the man’s hand away.
“You need to get yourself under control, Larsen,” Rhys warned as he backed up.
“I am in control!” Xander ground out, readying himself for the sixth round.
“Yeah,” Rhys laughed bitterly as they began their dance again. “What happened at the house earlier then?”
No longer interested in talking, Xander lunged forward with a right hook. Rhys jumped back, the hit barely connecting with his jaw, and he retaliated with a solid punch to Xander’s ribs. Pain bloomed in his abdomen as he went down, and in a dirty move, he grabbed ahold of Rhys’ legs and pulled them out from under him.
“Rhys, enough, the man has lost his mind,” Patrick barked, approaching them. Rhys worked himself free before Patrick got to them and gave his friend a warning glare to stay away.
“Is this really how you want to do it?” Rhys asked, giving Xander one more chance. “You know I am not one to show mercy.”
It was too late, though, and he knew it.
“Come on,” Xander urged, raising his bruised fists as he got to his feet. “Give me everything you have got.”
Eleanor awoke to the sharp sound of something metal hitting marble, and when she opened her eyes, she noticed two things immediately. One, Xander was not in bed with her. Two, more sounds and a dim yellow glow were coming from her open bathing room door.
Eleanor sat up, straining to make out the sounds she was hearing, then jumped out of bed when she heard another clang and Xander’s growl. Her eyes grew wide with fear as she saw her devilishly handsome husband standing before her, shirtless, bruised, and bleeding. Spilling over on the counter and to the floor was a pair of small scissors, and a mess of bloodied, torn-up linens.
Behind him, she vaguely recognized an open door that she had thought was just a closet. Instead, there was a staircase behind the door, and she realized their rooms had adjoined after all.
“Xander,” she breathed, rushing toward him.
“I did not mean to wake you,” he all but whispered, catching her wrists before her hands could touch him. “Go back to bed. I will take care of this upstairs.”
“No!” She half-whispered and half-yelled as she wrenched her wrists out of his grip. “What happened to you? Where did you go?”
“Eleanor, please,” Xander urged. He looked away, leaning his lower back against the counter as he pressed a rag to a cut on his chest. She could hear his breathing starting to grow heavier, and his muscles were twitching. For a moment, she thought of obeying him. Of turning a blind eye to what she saw and going back to bed.
Only, it would repeat all again, wouldn’t it? She would wake up to another day of this strange game she and Xander had grown addicted to. No.
“In the bath,” she directed, her voice soft but insistent.
When Xander did not move, she moved to the large tub, put in the plug, and pulled down the pumps to release the hot water. As her hands moved to undo his trousers, she kept her eyes upward, focused on the array of colorful bruises that covered him. Luckily, there was only one on his face; a purple crescent moon that took up his left temple and cheekbone, turning blue close to his eyes. The pain, she realized, had to be excruciating.
“You do not have to do this,” Xander said as she went to lead him to the tub. She looked back at him, but he still would not look at her. “I can handle this alone.”
“Not this,” Eleanor said softly, reaching up to gingerly move a strand of his hair off of his bruised temple and cheek. “This time, I am in control.”
Xander finally looked at her, his eyes glistening with emotion, and Eleanor felt her heart ache for him. Her husband, the Ton’s most ruthless member, had run into something he could not fix. And it was destroying him. Without a word, he let her finish leading him to the tub. When he went in, he sank down slowly, his eyes on the water.
Keeping her eyes focused on her work, Eleanor took a clean cloth and began to wash Xander down, careful to have a light touch. If he was in pain, which she was sure he was, he was not showing it. Save for the constant vibrations that came from beneath his taut skin, he did not flinch once.
When she finished, he stood up on his own and let her towel him off. Then, after rummaging through the many mirrored little cabinets in the room and finding whatever ointments she could, she began to massage each wound gently one at a time.
She was just finishing rubbing ointment on the last one; a particularly large green and purple bruise on his left pectoral muscle, when his hand came up and gently stopped her. Eleanor’s brows flew up, and relief poured through when she saw Xander’s silver orbs, once again shining with life, staring back down at her.
“Thank you,” he whispered, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. “I think I got lost there for a bit.”
“Whatever it is you are holding on to, let it go,” she pleaded. It was painful to see him like this, and she needed it to stop.
“No one has ever cared for me like this before. You really do not have to do this.”
“Why do you feel so guilty of letting others care for you?”
“I just… I am not sure. I guess after my parents’ death, I learned how to take care of myself. And Richard.”
“What about your grandparents? Your grandmother seems quite gentle to me.”
“Are we talking about the same person?” Xander’s breath hitched when she touched a painful spot for just a moment. “My grandparents were both of the notion that children must be seen, not heard. Richard was excluded from most rules though. But me? I had to learn to be tough and handle my own pain.”
His eyes still on hers, he brought her hand up to his mouth and placed a kiss so gentle on her palm it made her throat grow tight with tears.
“You need to let others care for you more often.”
“For now,” he promised, wrapping his other arm around her waist, pressing her as close to him as possible.
Eleanor could not help the soft sob of relief that tore from her throat as Xander kissed her. This one was not explosive, like all those times before. Instead, it was a deep, slow-burning kiss that melted them both from the inside out. Xander’s hands moved down to her backside, lifting her up with ease. Immediately she spread her legs and wrapped them around his waist.
Not breaking their kiss, Xander walked them back into the bedroom. Once he reached the bed, he laid Eleanor down gently, covering her small body completely with his much bigger one. Eleanor gasped and gripped at the bruised muscles on his back as he broke his lips from hers and moved down to her neck, lapping and nipping at her greedily. She closed her eyes and arched her back, wanting more.
A strangled sound, something between pain and agony, released from Xander’s throat, and he suddenly pulled back and balanced himself above her on his arms. Eleanor immediately felt cold and lonely as he pulled away, and she scrambled to bring him back to her.
“Honey, wait,” he rasped, his deep voice strained. He looked so tense; so conflicted- and she could not stand it.
“Why?” She nearly cried, still trying to pull his shoulders back down to her.
Xander’s silver eyes sparked as she did so, and with a tortured groan, he obeyed her touch and came back down atop her. Wanting to make sure he went nowhere, she locked her legs around his, holding him to her.
“You are going to be the death of me.”
Xander’s cock jumped hungrily as Eleanor wrapped her legs around his and he felt the apex of her legs press hotly into him. He had been in agony for weeks. Wanting her, fantasizing about her. Even torturing himself by trying to get the upper hand with his first tongue trick- and he could not take it anymore.
His fingers felt clumsy as they found their way to Eleanor’s thin chemise, but just like her, he did not want to break their skin-to-skin contact. Eventually, the bit of fabric came up between them, lifted over her head delicately before being tossed to the floor.
Eleanor’s body, warm and supple, was quick to take away the annoying cold by rubbing her long legs sensually over his muscled backside. Unknowingly, she was driving him wild. Nudging his rigid and aching-to-be-touched cock against her already slick entrance with every little movement.
If that was not bad enough, his mouth could not seem to get its fill of her. Her lips, tongue, neck, breasts. He had ravaged them all and left her panting and pleading for him not to stop. Every part of her tasted like heaven and he needed more.
“Spread your legs for me.”
Untangling his fingers from hers, he began to kiss down her body, loving every tremble and gasp she gave him as he did so. This time, after he began to slide his tongue slowly and possessively over her soft, dewy folds and desperate clitoris, he swirled his finger in slow circles at the entrance of her tight sheath. As he had hoped, her muscles clenched around him hungrily, pleading for more.
“Xander,” she breathed above him, her body growing more tense as her orgasm neared.
Knowing what she needed, Xander’s tongue and fingers moved in time to a more intense speed, and he let out a moan of pleasure as her orgasm flooded into his mouth.
Xander’s thighs trembled with pent-up need as he slowly dragged his body up to her, letting every inch of their torsos touch before he nestled his hips between her parted legs. In the candlelight, he could see Eleanor’s mesmerizing eyes glazed over with desire, and he knew then more than ever that he could not stop himself from giving her what she wanted.
Slowly, so as not to hurt her, Xander slid the head of his rigid girth between her folds. He had to hold back a groan as her tight, soaking, warm walls clasped at him greedily, already causing him so much pleasure. Achingly, he continued his steady advance, letting her adjust inch by gradual inch until he could feel her maidenhood brush the tip of his cock. He was not even halfway inside yet, but he wanted this to be as painless as possible for her.
“Hang on to me,” he urged tenderly, thrusting himself past her breaking point.
Eleanor let a whimper of pain as her dam broke, and obeyed his warning by digging her nails deep into his back. Xander took his time, letting her breaths and movements tell him how fast or slow to go. But soon, her legs and arms relaxed around him, her sharp breaths stretched into a low, needy panting, and her eyes were burning bright with desire again.
Gathering her in his arms, Xander let himself finally sink fully into her and allowed his hips to set their own pace. Eleanor’s lips, pressed against his ear, let out a continual sweet song of moans and pleas as he began to thrust harder, faster, driving them both closer to their climax.
Need fully taking over, Xander rolled with Eleanor in his arms until she was sprawled over his chest. With one hand pinning her hips atop his own, and the other wrapped tightly around her back, he began to buck up into her tight sheath with a sudden primal need. Every ounce of tension, of pain, of anxiety seethed out of him like toxic sweat as he claimed thorough possession of Eleanor’s body.
“Xander,” she panted, turning her head up to his as she moved in a constant swaying motion on his chest. “I think… I do not know what is happening… something different…”
Xander moaned deeply as he cut off her words with a deep kiss. The poor darling did not know what her temple of seduction was even capable of, but he was very happy to educate her.
“Hold it,” he urged, his strokes changing from fast and hard to deeper, more intense ones that would brush the tip of his cock against the little inner button. “Let it build.”
“No,” she moaned, looking at him desperately as he saw her pleasure grow more intense.
“You can do it, Honey,” he coaxed, clamping his other arm harder down on her hips. “We will do this together.”
“I cannot,” Eleanor moaned desperately, her thighs beginning to quiver as he felt her warm, wet walls grow tighter around his length.
Realizing he could not either, Xander let out a feral growl, and he began to pump her sheath up and down his cock in wonton desire until he felt them both explode. Once he felt his orgasm release, Xander clamped both hands down on Eleanor’s hips, locking her body tightly against his own as his cock spasmed deeply inside of her tightly clenching walls; quivering from their own ecstasy.
“You are so perfect, Eleanor.”