Chapter 2 - Xavier #2
"Fuck," I hissed, teetering on the knife's edge, waiting to see what would happen.
My feet had a mind of their own, pulling me closer to her bed, closer to that scent of vanilla and coconut that's been driving me crazy.
Her scent was attached to every single room in this fucking house, everywhere I went it was her.
The only place that didn't have the traces of her was my own room, but like a fucking lunatic, instead of running from it, I stole one of her T-Shirts, tucking it under my own pillow, desperate to feel that scent every night.
My cock was painfully hard even before her hand started moving between her legs, and those lips I wanted to sink my teeth into parted. But what had the precum leaking from the tip, was her moaning my name.
My. Fucking. Name.
"Xavier," she was breathless, a fucking Goddess, dreaming of me, getting off by thinking of me. I couldn't take it standing this far away from her.
I dropped on the edge of the bed, inches from her pretty feet.
She opened up, rolling back on her back, her body writhing, arching for me, as her hand visibly ran through her folds in her underwear.
My eyes dragged over her body, feasting on the sight of her pleasure, her need, latching on the sharp edges of her face.
I fucked up by coming here, but it was too late to get out now. Her scent was in my nostrils, the heat of her body pulling me in, and I wasn't strong enough to get out of here. Besides, I wanted to see that fury again.
I wanted her to drown me in her anger.
Her eyes were still closed, and as her hand quickened its pace, my shaky fingers wrapped around the lace of her panties, pulling them all the way down, until they reached her ankles.
The soft material inched over her feet, ending right in my hands, but instead of dropping it to the floor, I tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans, knowing I would use it later.
The moonlight illuminated half of her body, giving me a clear glimpse at how wet her fingers were as they ran over her clit.
She kept spreading her legs further, moaning louder, each of those little sounds hitting just below the belt, making it harder and harder to go slow.
My fingers dragged from her calves all the way to her thighs, drinking in the tiny shivers and the goosebumps erupting all over her skin.
I hated the bumps on her skin, the scars she expertly hid from the rest of the world, but I saw them. And I didn’t like them. Not one bit.
How dare she hurt herself? How dare she mar the perfect skin, created for my hands, for my knife? The same pocketknife now digging into my leg from the front of my pants, begging to be used.
She was mine, goddammit. Mine to hurt, mine to use, mine to fucking toy with, and she dared hurting herself when I was the only one allowed to do that.
She was lost to the sensations, deep in the dreamland where it seemed I was the main character, and the next time she moaned my name I dove down, my hand wrapping around her dainty wrist and taking over what she was trying to do.
My lips closed over her index and middle finger, licking her clean of the juices attached to those digits.
My eyes closed as the taste of her exploded in my mouth, urging me to move my hips, to get just a little bit of friction. She moaned again, pulling me into her orbit, into this space where only the two of us existed.
Without a second to waste, my face disappeared between her legs, and the first moment my tongue dragged over the little nub of nerves, begging to be touched, she practically jumped off of the bed, panting.
For. Me.
She was desperate for my touch even in her dreams. I didn't give a fuck if she hated me during the day, her body wanted me—needed me. And goddamn, if that didn't make me feral for the vixen writhing under me right now.
"P-Please," she whimpered as my tongue circled around her clit and my fingers dragged through her folds, all the way from her clenching pussy to the back, covering her in her own juices. "Xavier!" Her roar tore through me, and there was no more time for fucking around.
My finger pushed through the tight ring of muscles, getting enveloped by her heat, by her need. My tongue flattened against her, collecting everything she had just as my second finger followed the first one, pushing her higher and higher.
"Oh. My. Fucking. God!" she screeched, her entire body tensing and as I looked up, I knew why it sounded different than the last couple of times.
Her eyes were wide open now, her chest falling and rising, probably both from panic and the need to come. And oh boy, the way she kept squeezing me, her pussy pulling my fingers deeper inside, I think I knew which one she felt more right now.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she asked, the last word ending on the moan as my fingers curled in the come-hither gesture, reaching the spot inside that had her screaming at the top of her lungs. "Oh my fucking... Fuuuuuck!"
"That's it, little lamb." I grinned, coming up for air as she lost it. "Come for me. Come for your stepbrother."
"Xavier, what..." she stammered. "What are you doing?"
My wolfish grin didn't go away for a second and instead I increased the speed of my fingers and the pressure. She was gushing around me, the sounds filthy and satisfying at the same time. I couldn't wait to sink inside, to feel her wrapped around my cock.
"I'm eating you out," I simply said, biting the inside of her thigh. "Just like I said I would. Like a wolf eating his poor, helpless lamb."
"I'm not... FUCK!" she bellowed, loud enough for the entire house to hear, riding through her orgasm. Her hips moved on their own volition, her lips parted and eyes hooded, and she looked like a motherfucking angel of sin whimpering as her orgasm coursed through her.
The inner channels of her pussy clamped around me, making it almost impossible to move my fingers, and her hands ended up tangled with the strands of my hair, pulling and pushing at the same time.
"Please, no more." But I wasn't done.
"More, Yara." I lapped at her, drinking in her juices, her scent, closing my eyes. "Give me more."
"I can't," she sobbed. "Please. Why are you doing this?
Why... Oh, God." Her pussy fluttered again, her body started shaking as I relentlessly rubbed against the small nub inside her while my tongue circled around her clit.
"Xavier!" Her voice thundered around us, her cries falling on deaf ears, but I couldn't stop.
God, I couldn't fucking stop.
I needed more.
I craved more.
My left hand traveled down to my pants, unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper, freeing my aching cock.
"Fuuuuck." My voice came out as a rumble, vibrating against her clit. My hand wrapped around the root of my cock, slowly dragging toward the tip, collecting the precum leaking over the head. My head tilted up, looking at her blotchy face and the tears streaming down her cheeks.
She looked so fucking beautiful, felt so fucking mine, and the fact that she wasn't trying to push me away made me even more feral for her. My mouth salivated at the way her tits bounced under her thin camisole, and the way her pussy pulled my fingers in.
"You're gonna feel so good around my cock," I said. Her eyes seemed almost black right now, her irises shot to hell, and I salivated knowing I was the one that caused it. She was losing her goddamn mind, and it was all because of me.
Served her right, considering that I was losing my mind over her for almost two months now.
But seeing her like this wasn’t enough. I knew that nothing would ever be enough with her, but marking her with my cum wasn’t going to satisfy the monster raging in my chest. It wasn’t going to satisfy the need to mark her, to make her mine even if it was only known by the two of us.
Letting go of my cock, I pulled out the small knife from my pocket, slicing through the panting coming from Yara and my own heavy breathing as I opened the blade.
“W-What,” she stammered, her eyes wide as she looked at the knife in my hands. “What are you doing with that?” Her fear was almost palpable, I could taste it on my lips, but there was something else in those icy eyes. Stronger than her fear. Stronger than her urge to run from me.
Desire.
Her sick and twisted mind, mirroring my own, wanted to know what I would do with it. Craving violence. Craving depravity. It was just one more reason why she was perfect for me. Perfectly covered in darkness.
“I’m going to play,” I murmured, lowering my head down and licking through her folds. “I’m going to own you after tonight. I’m going to mark you, little lamb.”
Her lower lip wobbled, her irises getting darker if that was even possible, and as I dragged my thumb over the scar on her inner thigh, her breath hitched, telling me she was finally aware of me seeing those.
They were old scars, that much was obvious, at least judging by their color, by the way they have healed, but the fact that she had an urge to mark herself, to fucking hurt herself… I. Didn’t. Like. It.
I didn’t like the tightness in my chest or the need to destroy anything and anyone that brought her to this point. Lying to myself was easier when I had no idea they existed, but these would be the last ones.
She would never hurt herself again. I forbade it.
“The next time you take the blade to your hands,” I mumbled, dragging the tip of the knife over the inner thigh.
“I want you to remember this. I want you to remember me like this, between your legs, marking you, licking you, fucking owning you, Yara. I want you to remember that I’m the only person that would ever get to mark you.
I’m the only person that gets to touch you. ”
“Xavier.” She trembled, her lower lip wobbling, her entire body shaking now. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t fucking stop myself.