Chapter 36
Camila
She’s breathing the same air as Xander. Her wrist is caught in his grip. Xander’s face is contorted in anger, but she smiles up at him, flashing her flirty eyes.
That traitorous muscle pounds in my chest as I ram the door open, making a thud echo throughout his office. Slipping the pistol out of the holster in the blazer, I point it directly at her.
“Step away from him,” I say, surprised by the quality of my own voice. Xander’s face flashes with surprise as he takes me in—his blazer drowning my frame, his gun held in both of my hands, pointed at his assistant. His eyes darken as he lets go of Penelope and leisurely strolls to stand by my side.
Her hands shoot up in surrender, and her body trembles. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she placates.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I’m filled with so much jealousy that I don’t even recognise my own voice. “I think it’s exactly what it looks like,” I retort.
She slowly backs away towards his desk. Her heels catch on the carpet, and she thuds to the floor.
“The door is the other way,” I warn, following her movements with the gun.
“O-okay,” she trembles. “I’ll leave,” she says as she slowly lifts herself off the floor.
“And never come back,” I finish.
“What?” she squeaks, casting her head towards Xander. “Are you just going to let her do this?” She whips her head towards me. “You have no power here.”
Xander’s hands are resting in his pockets, his muscular back leaning against the wall, lips curled up in a smirk. “She does now. And what a glorious fucking view.”
Penelope’s face morphs into embarrassment as she gapes at Xander.
“Chop, chop, bitch,” I smirk.
Penelope huffs and speed-walks past me to the door. I step out of the way as her heels click out into the hallway, and she slams the door behind her.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as my arms go slack, the gun hanging from my right hand. I take in rapid breaths, fixing my gaze on the black carpet.
What the fuck is wrong with me tonight?
I can feel Xander right next to me.
His tattooed hand comes up, gripping my neck and guiding me towards him. “Angel, look at me.”
I do.
His eyes roam over my face, my body, and the gun in my hand.
Then his lips are on mine.
Claiming. Demanding. Hungry.
He walks us backwards. My back hits the door as his hand on my neck bolts me in place. He locks the door, and then his hands are gripping my thighs, hoisting me to curl around his waist.
Heat rushes low in my stomach as his tongue works the inside of my mouth. His thick length grows rapidly against my core.
His hand tangles in the back of my hair and pulls back, a delicious kind of pain accompanying the movement. His lips kiss towards my neck, and I moan as he sucks on the sensitive spot behind my ear.
His movements are hurried but thorough. Like he can’t get me quick enough.
My hands grab at the top buttons of his shirt, ripping them open, buttons flying across the room, making tiny pinging sounds.
His shirt falls to the ground. My hands roam the hard contours of his muscles as he attacks my mouth with his again.
His hands work to slip his blazer off me, and I hadn’t realised I was still holding his gun until it snags on the material.
“Shit,” I mumble into his lips.
“Keep it,” he mumbles back as he throws the blazer to the side.
His hands cup my ass under the dress, and it’s only now I remember that I didn’t put on any pants. He feels it because he pauses and pulls away, his hooded, icy eyes gazing into mine, turning darker within milliseconds.
“Over to the desk,” he commands.
I obey him—sliding down to the floor and making quick work of standing by the desk. I spin around to see his chest heaving, watching me.
He takes slow steps towards me, his gaze travelling around every inch of my body. He looks like the devil incarnate with only the small glow from the lamp, which hardly provides any light in the black-furnished room.
Arousal starts leaking down my thighs as my pulse rises with every step he takes towards me. He stops in front of me and fists his hand around my neck, bringing his face a breath away from mine.
“Bend over the fucking desk,” he growls lowly.
My knees give way as I gradually spin around. I don’t have a chance to bring my chest down to the desk because Xander’s hand is already on my back, impatiently pushing me towards the cold surface.
I turn my face sideways, facing the door. He places his hand on my head, holding it down into the glass.
Anticipation takes hold of me as he lets go, and I can’t feel him anymore. All I can hear is the sound of my own rapid breathing, my sighs fogging up the varnished wood.
Suddenly, he kicks my right foot out to the side, and I grasp the desk as best as I can with the gun still in my grip, steadying myself.
“Spread those pretty legs for me.” His voice is all sex and danger. A heady mix that I never imagined would send goosebumps over my skin.
I move my left foot further out, spreading myself for him.
My pussy pulses with desire as I wait for his thick cock to fill me, desperate to feel him inside me again.
He hums low, his fingertips grazing my back. They trail towards the zip of my dress. He teases the zip, pulling it down leisurely then bringing it back up.
“Xander,” I breathe. I want to beg him to rip this dress off me, but he tuts and moves himself away from me again.
His hand unexpectedly appears on the inside of my lower leg, making the hairs on my skin stand. He drags his hand further up, towards my already aching centre, fingers gliding smoothly along the inside of my thigh, gathering up the leaking arousal.
“Your cunt is always so ready for me.”
And it is. Since that night in the corridor, I find myself craving his touch more so than I'd like to admit.
His fingers continue their pursuit upwards, closer and closer to where I need him the most.
And then they disappear.
I blow out a breath of frustration which morphs into a gasp of pleasure as his hot tongue licks up the side of my leg.
He thrusts his fingers inside me without warning, eliciting a moan from my throat.
“And no pants.” He pulls his fingers out slowly, continuing his taunting.
“In front of all those people?” He curls his fingers as he pushes back in, sending tingles through me.
“Don’t you know who you belong to, Camila?
” His fingers retreat, and I sigh in frustration.
I hear him stand behind me.
“Lift up your dress,” he commands softly.
I loosen my fingers around the gun, but before I can place it down on the desk, his warm hand covers mine, tightening my fingers back around it. “Don’t let go of the gun,” he murmurs in my ear. He tucks strands of my hair behind my ear and kisses the sensitive area.
I reach behind me, lifting the material to rest on my back.
“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers as his hand connects with one of my ass cheeks, charging up a delicious sting. I can’t help but throw my head back with a moan, my hands shooting out in front of me. The gun clangs on the desk with the movement, but I keep it in my grip.
He rounds the desk, standing right in front of me, all muscles and black ink. His thick fingers grip at his belt, undoing the buckle and pulling the end of the belt out from the loops. The last one comes out with a whip.
He leans his arms on the desk, his face coming level with mine.
“Who do you belong to, Camila?”
I swallow, my thighs pulling together as my pussy heats.
“Stay where you are.”
I freeze.
“Answer my question.”
“You,” I whisper.
His mouth twitches upwards in a smile. “Good girl.”
Fuck.
He disappears from sight again. Standing between my legs, he presses his bulge up against my pussy, and it throbs at the contact. I push myself into him, silently begging him to stop playing and take me. Paint me with his cum again.
His hands land on either side of my ass, pushing me back into the desk and further away from him.
God fucking dammit.
The cold leather of his belt grazes my ass.
Back and forth, back and forth. Until he finally slaps it across my left side. I moan again, my hands fisting around the gun. “You’re mine, Camila. And the fact that you do everything to show you’re not… really pisses me off.”
Slap.
Another moan.
The way Xander can turn all the pain from my past into pleasure is staggering as much as it is liberating.
“Dancing for all those men—that’s one thing. Not wearing panties? I don’t think you’re quite getting it.”
Slap.
At the beginning, pole dancing was a way for me to gain control of my life. My body.
Now? I couldn’t say I don’t enjoy the look on Xander’s face. Exactly the reason I forwent the panties.
“All of them looking at you makes my blood run cold. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about murdering every fucker who’s ever laid eyes on you.”
I whimper at his words. His hand fists in my hair, pulling my head back. “You are mine,” he growls. “My property. My Angel. Mine to look at, mine to play with, and only mine.”
Another slap stings my ass, and he rubs away the burning pain with his palm.
Some sick part of me wants him to do it again, though.
“You’re taking your punishment like such a good girl, Angel.”
Cold leather wraps around my neck. Xander pulls the end of the belt through the buckle, tightening it. He gently guides my head back down towards the desk.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his eyes softening for a beat, and it catches me off guard.
I blink. "Yeah."
He nods before his weight into me as he reaches over and unlaces my fingers from the gun, taking it. The cold barrel touches the skin on my back and travels down towards my ass, then my core. I mewl as he presses it into my slit, hitting that one spot that’s been weeping for attention.
“Tell me, sweetheart. Have you ever shot a gun before?” he asks, sliding the barrel up and down my slit painfully slowly.
He knows I haven’t, but he’s using this to taunt me.