Chapter 27 #4
Xavier shuts the door behind him, and his first action is to close the partition, separating Michael and the helm from the rest of the spacious backseat.
Once the barrier is up, there’s no music.
Only my heavy breathing as I climb onto his lap, gathering handfuls of his hair.
Xavier lets out a surprised groan as my fingers tighten around the curls I was playfully tousling, tilting his head back to look up at me.
Desire fills his eyes, now heavy-lidded, as they trace over my features.
Another startled moan when I claim him with a kiss, savoring the taste of his parted lips before gently dipping inside.
For the first time in a long time, I want to find the woman in me who was daring enough to take what I want, initiate sex, and stake claim on what’s mine.
After everything Bo said tonight, the secrets he told me that I’ll have to hide away because deep down, I know Xavier would never want me to know them, I'm light-headed, my blood racing being in the presence of a man who would protect me the way he has.
Even when I was unaware of it, he was there.
With him, there can be no boundaries. It may take time, my whole life, to get there, but we deserve that.
The dimmed lights embedded in the perimeter of the back seat reflect in his eyes, an awestruck gleam within them as his lips curl into a smile, stealing the breath from inside me.
Those eyes ensnare mine and don’t let go.
I'm enraptured when his mouth nudges my own, his hands pushing under my gown until the satin slips over my head, baring me from the waist up .
It should unnerve me—how deeply his observing goes while he’s still fully clothed.
He removes my heels and drops them on the floor beside us. Then he says, “Turn around. Sit on me, your back here.” He gestures to his chest, waiting for me to finish what he desires. I slide onto his legs until my back meets his chest, my head tilting into his shoulder.
“Look up.”
My eyes rise to the wide ceiling of the stretch limousine, freezing when I catch sight of myself in the reflection, lying mostly naked upon him.
The heat of shock flushes my cheeks as everything within me twists at the erotic sight.
Xavier’s hands roaming my body, cupping my breast, rolling the tender nipple—right there in front of us.
A nervous sound falls from my lips when Xavier slips his hands under the strings digging into my hips. “Take them off.”
My husband’s broken voice somehow flows like silk now, a rich, rolling sound that reminds me of the orgasms he’s able to spool out of me. I feel myself shrink as he takes my hands, not letting me evade him. Our eyes connect in the reflection.
“Look at yourself.”
The rose tucked in my hair is all I'm still wearing.
His fingers burn a path between the insides of my thighs, evoking a series of shivers across my exposed flesh.
He’s wholly composed, and I'm panting, spreading my legs further apart, unable to take my eyes off of the explicit reflection of us. His face nuzzles into my throat, taking his time tracing my willing and accessible body that’s just waiting for him.
When his hand falls from my breast to my aching mound, I restrain an embarrassing cry, my toes digging into the expensive carpeting under my feet to ground my legs as his finger lines my slit before dipping inside to find me wet enough to hear.
He groans. “Oh, fuck . ”
My eyes watch his fingers rub between my legs in slow circles, targeting my nerves first before anything else.
My legs are already shaking, and my arms are gripping the leather to hold this position.
His thighs are the only thing preventing me from falling to the floor.
The slower his caresses become, the faster my hips churn to keep the build within me coming.
In a haze, my gaze drifts back to the ceiling, observing how my hips pitch lewdly into his hand, trembling when I hear him moan softly, equally transfixed by the sight. “Christ, Sophie.”
My eyes roll back once the tightening begins.
Xavier’s lips glide over my throat, softly whispering in my ear, “You’re beautiful. So damn beautiful.”
More than overwhelmed, distracted by the urges quickly building inside me, my eyes wander from our reflection. My hands glide over the leather seat beside him.
Xavier abruptly grabs my chin and tilts my head upward. “Look. I want you to look.”
It isn’t easy—not only because I'm about to lose my hold altogether but also because, for years, I have barely been able to tolerate my own reflection.
Today was a start, but this is overwhelming…
and he knows it. He wants it. His voice carries an authoritative bite as he urges me toward a peak, the sole force anchoring my gaze on the mirror above us, tracing the features of my body he sings praises of.
My breath hitches, my hips stilling. “ Xavier .”
His deft fingers do the rest of the work, teasing the tender nerves until I'm coming apart at the seams, melting into his grasp, powerful waves of pleasure pushing through my body. I feel renewed, like I can do absolutely fucking anything . My head rolls from side to side, a stupidly pleased grin on my face as Xavier’s fingers slip from me when I rotate to face him, taking a seat on his lap, grabbing his hand.
His pupils expand as I slide two of his glossy fingers past my lips, emboldened enough to taste my essence on his skin. His hair is a wild mess, frayed from pulling, hanging over eyes that are drinking me in like a man about to be thoroughly fucked in the back of a limousine.
Xavier’s fingers slip from my red lips, only to be replaced by his tongue.
He groans deeply into my mouth as my taste mingles between us.
When he slides down onto the floor and grabs my hips so he can lower me onto his face, I have to grasp the handle above my head to keep myself upright.
My weak knees dig into the leather on either side of his head, my cleft parallel to his mouth.
And when his tongue pushes in…
Obscene sounds erupt from my mouth, and I pray that Michael cannot hear them up front.
As the car slows at stop lights, merges through tiny alleyways, and revolves around upper Manhattan, I'm fisting Xavier’s hair, urging him deeper, crying out when his fingers spread me open, his tongue spearing my entrance.
He gathers my ass into his hands, probing and sucking until I'm physically struggling to handle it, fearing my legs are going to cave.
My body flinches as I begin to beg. Beg for more. Beg for release. “Please. Please .”
He hardly surfaces for breath, but when he does, gasping, thrashing my folds, I'm only able to watch him, wanting to stretch out the moment when he tells me to sit on him.
Really sit. And I do it, cradling his head between my hands as I grind against the heat of his tongue, hearing the orgasm building in my cries.
Already so sensitive, it doesn’t take much to push me over the edge.
Just my clit trapped between his lips, and I'm toppling to the primal sound that leaves him as I grasp onto the seat to keep myself from falling into him, shaking each time he runs his tongue delicately over the ravaged bundle of blown-apart nerves.
As I struggle to regain some semblance of composure, his hot breath caresses the delicate skin between my thighs, shifting between gentle kisses and soft bites that send tremors through my heightened senses.
Surely not … I couldn’t do it again.
When lustful eyes glance up to meet mine, I know he’s going to make a liar out of me.
All of the bedroom lights are on.
Our clothes are strewn from the entrance of the mansion up to the master suite.
My dress lies by the door. Our shoes are at the foot of the steps.
His cummerbund hangs from a marble pillar at the top of the stairs.
The rest of his clothes are scattered through the hallway leading into the bedroom, where we collided, quite literally drugged with need.
That unrestrained lust had Xavier banging me into the unsteady wardrobe before his men had even resumed their posts outside, ravaging my breasts while he slammed me down onto his cock, taking me like a man driven to madness.
Typically, this would frighten me.
But I'm just as unhinged and desperate for him as he is for me, matching his intensity. As my teeth pierce his flesh, biting the salty skin close to his heart, he hisses in pain, yet his eyes compel me to continue.
He drops me onto the bed, grips my ankles, and drags me to the edge of the mattress, taking me standing. Leaning closer to capture my lips, Xavier lifts my leg to push himself deeper, stretching my body to accommodate him. His lips curve deviously as my body fights to comply.
When Italian falls from my lips, the languages mixing in the haze of my mind, he isn’t expecting it. “Mi stai riempiendo.” You’re filling me up.
In response, he pushes even deeper, answering me in Italian. “ Il tuo corpo è stato fatto per me.” Your body was made for me. And then returning to English, “It will fit.”
And it does.
Once his thumb targets the heat between my legs, Xavier buries himself to my cleft.
Gripping my hips, pinning me in that exquisite but tight position, his forearms course with thick veins that reveal the kind of strength he’s restraining.
Unable to catch my breath, my eyes devour all of him, noting the way his scored biceps flex when he seizes my hips, physically drawing himself in and out of me, allowing me to bask in the sensory overload.
His chest nearly doubles in size whenever he reclaims me, and when he’s consumed by passion, his tensed abs stand out sharply, leading down to the pronounced curve of his hips.
I get him under me in the middle of the bed, my painted nails pressing into his chest, my teeth grazing the inside of his palm as my hips churn onto his hard cock, exquisitely full.