Chapter Nineteen
Alexandra
Dixon doesn’t answer with words. He kisses me with fierce, determined possession. His kiss backs me against the wall. His tongue glides between my lips, twists around my tongue, and pulls a deep, yearning moan from my chest.
He consumes me.
“I shouldn’t want you,” he says. His words turn into a groan as I grip his cock through his jeans. “I’m wrong for you. You know that, too, right?”
“I know I should hate you. I think I still do. But I can’t fight what happens in my body every time I’m close to you. There was so long where it felt like I was cold and dead inside, like I was just existing for one thing — to get revenge on you — but once I got close to you, once I touched you, it was like something inside me caught on fire.”
“Don’t fight it.” His mouth is against my neck, his hands lifting the hem of my shirt. My skin raises in goosebumps in the chill air of my apartment, and I raise my arms in a gesture of surrender as he lifts my shirt off me. “Don’t fight this.”
“I won’t. I can’t. This is what I want,” I say. I grab his cock again through his jeans. “Want it and need it.”
Zipper down, buttons undone, I remove his pants and kneel in front of him, and carefully wrap my hands around his thick cock.
“Then take it,” he moans.
I take him into my mouth, relishing the groan that vibrates from his throat. Dixon”s hands find their way to the back of my head, guiding me with an urgency. His hips thrust forward, seeking more of the hot, wet welcome my mouth offers.
”Alexandra,” he breathes out my name like a prayer mingled with a curse, and I can”t help but feel a surge of power wash over me. I am the one making this unshakable man unravel. “Oh, fuck, the things you do with your mouth.”
I stand up, pressing my body against his. “That was just a preview of what I want to do to you. Now it’s your turn to undress me.”
With deft fingers, he divests me of the remaining clothes. He hoists me onto the counter effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist, anchoring myself to him.
Dixon looks down at me with eyes darkened by lust and something more dangerous, something like longing, yet stronger, deeper, and even trying to put a name to the emotion that burns in his eyes frightens me.
“Lie back.”
I do.
With hands on my thighs, he presses my legs wide, and I relax, releasing a soft sigh as he kisses me slowly, moving up my thigh until his lips are hovering over my pussy. With each breath, I feel, and I shiver in anticipation. He takes his time, teasing me, until I can”t take it anymore.
”Dixon,” I say, my voice trembling with need. “Please, eat me.”
He responds to my plea. His tongue is a warm, wet promise sliding against my wet slit, and he makes good on that promise again and again.
”Oh, holy fuck,” I gasp, arching beneath him as he brings me closer to the edge that I ache to fall from. With every swirl and flick of his tongue, the tension coils within me like a spring wound too tight. He senses it, too, intensifies his movements until I can”t hold back any longer.
“Come for me, princess,” he whispers, the words vibrating against my sensitive clit. With a stroke of his finger and a flick of his tongue, my body tenses, then releases in a crashing wave of pleasure that leaves me breathless, shaking.
When I finally open my eyes, Dixon is watching me with an intensity that sends another shiver down my spine. He”s waiting for me — waiting for me to come back down to earth before he claims his own release.
I shake my head, prompting a question to rise in his eyes.
“Not here,” I say. “My bedroom. I want you in my bedroom.”
I want to wrap him in my sheets; I want the smell of him — the smell of us, our bodies, our sex, the memory of this moment where things changed between us — in my bed, my blankets, my pillows. When I wake up, I want to smell it. I want to shut my eyes and relive every second.
“Lead the way, princess,” he says. That word doesn’t bother me anymore, not in the way he says it now. Instead, it thrills me.
I take his hand and pull him down the hall. There’s a smile on my face.
He follows, and I can feel his gaze on my bare skin as we move through the darkness, punctuated only by the soft glow of city lights filtering through the curtains. It”s not just a walk; it”s a procession toward everything wrong, everything right, and exactly what I want.
Once inside my bedroom, I release his hand and turn to face him. His eyes are still that dark shade of desire, but there”s a vulnerability there too that he doesn”t show to anyone else. It”s intoxicating, knowing I hold such power over him.
I climb onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath me, and beckon him to join me. Dixon doesn”t hesitate. He kneels on the bed, straddling my hips, and for a moment we simply stare at each other — two people on the cusp of something neither fully understands.
“Do you want me to—”
“Lick my pussy for a moment before I make your cock explode? Yes.”
I reach up to touch his cheek, trailing my fingers along his jawline and down his throat, my fingers lingering there, savoring the touch of him. His pulse jumps under my touch. Then I pull him down for another kiss, this one softer than before.
“As you wish, princess,” he murmurs.
His lips touch mine again. And again. Each kiss deeper, more intense than the one before it. His hands roam down my neck, across my shoulders, my chest, to cup my breasts and tease my nipples — first a gentle stroke, then more, a pinch that makes me yelp in surprised delight — until I am gasping for him to touch and taste me lower.
Then he descends, trailing kisses as he goes, lower and lower until he”s once again positioned between my thighs. His fingers toy with me first, tracing the lines of desire that map my body, learning every shiver and twitch that his touch provokes. He takes his time, building a fire within me that”s eager to consume us both.
I watch him through hooded eyes, each glance a silent command urging him on, and Dixon understands perfectly. His tongue dances across my flesh with deliberate strokes designed to torture me with pleasure until the tension within me winds tighter still.
”Damn, you taste so good,” he mumbles between kisses, his voice rough with desire.
I clutch at the sheets below me as the waves of pleasure crash over me once more, harder and longer this time. My nails dig into the fabric, barely holding onto sanity as I ride out the storm of sensation he”s unleashed within me — hot and cold, heaven and hell, right and wrong — lightning bolts that strike me and leave me changed.
My climax leaves me spent, trembling in its wake.
”Your turn,” I to gasp when I find my voice again. ”I want to taste you. Come here, let me suck you.”
Dixon groans and obliges, crawling up the bed and straddling my chest, his cock throbbing in front of my hungry mouth. I take him inside. His cock is hard in my mouth, hot, pulsing, and his hips jerk beneath my ministrations as he tries to maintain control, but I”m in control now. I”m the one in charge, and I will own his cock and wring every bit of pleasure out of it.
I bob my head up and down, taking him deeper, swirling my tongue around him, tasting the warm saltiness of his pre-cum, loving the thickness, the pulsing heat of his cock. I look up at him as I work, my gaze locked onto his, daring him to give in to desire and flood my mouth with his cum. He doesn”t. Instead, he watches me, his eyes full of something new — desire, yes, but also something else, something I can”t quite place.
As he nears the edge, I slow down, teasing him, prolonging the inevitable.
I want more than just his come in my mouth; if I’m going to cross every line I had with this man, I’m going to go all the way. My head moves slower, then slower still, until he’s panting, thrusting against me with desperate need. His jaw is tense with pent-up desire aching for release, and I take him out of my mouth and smile sweetly up at him.
“Alexandra, what the fuck? I’m so close…”
”Dixon, I’m going to let you come, and I even want you to come inside me, but not in my mouth,” I say. “Because I want you to take a deep breath, maybe a few, calm your cock down, and then lie back. I want to ride you, and I want to look down on your smug, smirking, so-fucking-handsome face and see the look in your eyes as you fill my pussy with your come.”
“Oh, goddamn,” he says.
Without hesitation, he’s on his back faster than I can roll over. Moments later, I’m astride him, my hands bracing myself on his powerful chest, his cock throbbing with temptation at the entrance to my wet pussy, and my eyes locked onto his. Gently, I reach between my legs and guide him into me as I lower myself on his thick cock.
I groan at the feeling of him filling me up so perfectly — the stretch, the fullness, the heat.
His hands come up to grab my hips, holding me still as I impale myself on his cock.
It’s not gentle this time; there’s something primal about it, something demanding.
His hands slip up my sides, tracing the curves of my body until they reach my breasts. He cups them, squeezes them, and I arch my back into his touch, unable to resist the sensation. His thumbs tease my nipples as he thrusts up into me, matching my rhythm with an intensity that takes my breath away.
I can feel it building again, that wave of pleasure that threatens to crash and break me. I let go, give myself over to burning ecstasy, his every thrust driving me higher and higher. Our breaths are ragged, our moans and groans fill the room as we lose ourselves in each other.
I look down at him, his eyes locked onto mine. There’s no more smirking asshole — he’s just a man, vulnerable, broken, and alive beneath me. In this moment, I know I want him so deeply that speaking it aloud would scare us both.
We’re both broken, but we’ve found each other.
Then the climax hits like a bolt of lightning.
I reach down, dig my nails into his chest, my back arched as I scream his name and lose my senses thanks to his thick cock.
A split-second later, I feel him lose himself, too.
A pulsing heat fills me deep with his thick come. My name parts his lips. And when I slide off of him and lower myself into the crook of his waiting arm, there’s a smile there, too. Barely visible, but definitely not cocky. No, it’s different — a smile I’ve never seen on his lips before. Warm and deep.
“This changes things,” I say. It feels foolish to say something so obvious, but necessary, too; there’s a part of me that worries that if I don’t acknowledge this moment, it’ll disappear. I’m too familiar with sudden loss not to do my damnedest to cling onto something that maybe, just maybe, could be worth it.
“It doesn’t have to,” Dixon says. His voice is quiet, and it’s clear he knows this changes things between us, too, but he wants to give me an out. In case I don’t want to face the tough questions, like: what is Dixon to me if not the man I want to murder? Who am I to him if not the woman who tried to kill him?
What are we to each other?
But I don’t want an out.
Instead, I answer him with a smile and a kiss.
“It does. And I think I like it that way.”