Chapter 51 #2
“Like I couldn't breathe.” His knee presses between my thighs, allowing me the pressure I find myself desperately seeking despite the restricted breathing.
He finally frees my throat, and I gasp in air as he kisses along my collarbone. I pant, my hands gripping the sheets as his knee begins slow circles on my core. His hand gathers my hair in his fist, twisting and pulling my head back to expose more of my neck to him.
“Tonight was the last time you ever step on that stage. Do you understand?” he growls, nipping at the side of my neck, causing a delicious shiver to run down my body.
“Yes,” I moan without hesitation.
I can feel how soaked my bodysuit is as I grind my pussy against his knee in tandem with him.
Then, suddenly, he stops. The weight of him leaves the bed, and he stands in front of me again before he walks over to an empty chair to the side of the pole—facing it—and sits.
Just simply sits.
“Stand up.”
It’s like my body moves on autopilot as I stand on unstable knees, high on arousal.
“Take out your phone and choose a song.”
I walk over to my gym bag that’s hung by the door, making sure to sway my hips from side to side, and rustle through it to find my phone, which happens to be buried all the way at the bottom.
Scrolling through my playlist, I land on Crazy In Love by Beyonce, remix version.
I press play, and the slow, sensual sound floods through the bedroom speakers.
Slipping the phone back in the bag, I turn.
Xander’s holding a sketchbook. His sketchbook.
My heart stalls at the sight of it, remembering that morning in the cabin I found drawings of myself.
Then running from him. Every event plays scene by scene in my head in a flash, and I realise that it’s something that I never want to happen again.
That the unhealed side of me secretly enjoyed the obsession but didn’t want to admit it. It’s why I ran.
His head rests on his propped-up arm as his other one begins to slide along the book.
“Dance.”
I grab the pole with both hands and spin, keeping an arm’s length distance from the pole.
The pole slows its spin, and I slide down to sit on the floor, my legs in a V shape and the metal against my core.
I pull in a breath as it connects with me, reminding me of the ache between my legs.
Xander smirks, his eyes flicking between me and the paper.
Lying down on my back, I swing my legs to turn on the floor, getting up on all fours and whipping my hair around.
Pulling myself to stand using the pole, I bodyroll against it then flip upside down into a jade spin.
My heart races as I watch the way Xander’s shirt tightens against his muscles with the movement of his charcoal gliding along the paper.
I twirl around the pole and then lean against it, breaths choppy.
Sliding my hands over my breasts, down my waist, then finally reaching my core, I press into that sweet spot, biting my lip.
Xander has paused, and his hooded eyes trail every movement my hands make.
My gaze dips down under his book, where a large bulge has already made itself present.
Coasting the inside of my thighs, I start descending down at the same time, my mouth opening in an ‘O’ shape.
His fists clench around the edge of the book before he slams it shut, throwing it to the side.
Deciding I can’t wait any longer, I begin crawling towards him.
Just shy of the tips of his shoes, I pause.
Sitting back on my knees, I run my hands torturously slowly up his thighs.
I stand, bend at the waist, and lean my hands on his thighs, staring into his eyes.
The song has restarted, and I swivel my hips steadily as his jaw ticks, watching the movement.
Travelling my hands up his chest and gripping his shoulders, I bring my heel to the small space between his legs, pressing into the chair and standing, continuing to swivel my hips and giving him a perfect view of my cleavage.
His eyes dip to my breasts, and when he looks back up, it’s not Xander anymore.
It’s the dark side of him that he lets me see so often, and I know he’s ready to take control again.
I straddle him, turning my head in a circular motion as my arms rest on his shoulders.
His hands come out to grip my ass, squeezing painfully—but oh, it feels so good.
I moan as I start gyrating my hips on top of him.
“Who do you dance for, Camila?” he asks as he traces my neck with his lips, nipping and licking in various spots.
“You,” I breathe, shuffling closer and pressing into his cock. I moan as I continue to grind into him.
He grabs my hair and pulls back. “You don’t get to make yourself come yet,” he murmurs, leaning closer into me.
But I don’t care what he has to say; I’m so turned on that I just continue to move.
I watch as his lips part and he exhales as I double my efforts on using his thickness to get myself off.
He grips my throat. “Stop,” he all but moans.
I don’t. So he stands, picking me up and carrying me over to the pole. I whine as he places me down on the floor, frustrated from that building orgasm taking over.
Twirling me around so my chest is glued to the pole, he presses into me from the back. His heavy breaths fill my ear. “You can never listen to simple instructions, can you?”
His heat abandons me, and chains rattle.
I swallow. My eyes are so heavy with lust that I can’t keep up with what’s happening.
The weight of the chain wraps around my waist twice and secures me to the pole.
A few tugging movements, then a lock clicks in place.
The length of him presses into the middle of my ass, his hand gripping my chin.
“I own you, Camila. I always have and always will.” His tone is gentle, yet not. “Tell me what you want.”
I moan out as he presses in more, grinding along my ass. Gripping onto the pole, I arch back into him, eliciting a low hiss from him.
He tightens the chain, and it clinks as it yanks into the pole.
“Is this what you want? Hmm?” he asks, ripping open the buttons of my bodysuit in one swift motion and exposing my centre to the cooler air.
“Yes,” I breathe.
A rip echoes through the room, the buttons of his shirt hitting the windows with a light tap. He rounds the pole, slowly kneeling in front of me, all dark ink, sex and possession written on his face. And I wouldn’t want to imagine myself submitting myself to anyone else like this.
He loosens the chain a fraction to guide me around the pole so that my back is pressed to it, then he secures the chain back in place. He disappears from sight again and guides my hands up the pole. Cold metal wraps around my wrists as he secures me to the pole completely.
He stands in front of me, a wicked smirk playing on his face. Lowering slowly to his knees, he hikes both of my legs up over his shoulders, making me gasp as I slightly slide down the pole. His hands grip my ass, his breath fanning over the inside of my thighs.
“I’ve got you.”
He does. He always did.
He breathes me in, the stubble of his beard tickling my skin. Sliding my stockings torturously slowly down my legs, he lays small kisses as he goes.
“You don’t need these,” he whispers. When he starts on my other leg, he pauses, kissing my scar before continuing downwards.
His head hovers just before my bare pussy before he latches his mouth onto me and licks up my slit. I moan as his hot tongue traces the width of me, my hands jerking to grip his hair but not being able to.
“You’re soaked, Angel," he mutters against me.
Pleasure floods my system as he sucks on my clit, and I moan out, my head hitting the back of the pole. I grind my pussy into his face, chasing the growing orgasm.
“Delicious,” he growls, gripping my thighs.
That causes a shiver to run up my spine. The pressure builds as he laps at me. Sucking, licking, tugging. My soul feels like it’s detached from my body as his tongue continues its slow circles around my clit.
He thrusts a finger inside of me, immediately matching the pace of his tongue in rough pumping motions, making me scream out in pleasure.
I can’t think straight; all I can focus on is his warm tongue licking me into oblivion and the speed of his fingers as my pussy clenches around him, my body convulsing against the pole, making the chains rattle.
“Oh, fuck, Xander,” I cry out.
“That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he praises, fingers curling inside of me. “Who owns you?”
“You,” I pant.
“Louder.” He sucks my clit into his mouth.
“You,” I shout.
“Say my fucking name.” His teeth graze my pussy, his fingers curling again.
“Xander,” I scream this time. The sensations are too much as I sigh out the last of my orgasm waves.
“Good little Angel.” He places me down on the floor, steadying me.
I yank my arms off the pole, forgetting I’m chained and slightly hurting myself in the process.
“I’m in control here, sweetheart. Stay still,” he growls, ripping open the button of his slacks and jerking his cock out, the tip already glistening.
My mouth waters as he runs the length over my clit, coating it in my arousal, his hooded eyes watching me.
“Please, Xander,” I beg.
“Please what?” he teases, slapping himself against my wet centre.
“Fuck me, please.”
He laughs darkly, sheathing himself inside me in one rough thrust, making me scream out in pleasure again, my throat already feeling scratchy.
“Xander,” I half-moan, half-scream as he pounds inside of me, my back hitting the cold steel of the pole.
He grips my neck. “Eyes on me while I fuck this needy little cunt,” he demands.
But I physically can’t open my eyes. The pleasure running through me is too much; I feel like I’m on a high.
“You’ll never be free of me as long as we both live,” he pants.
“I don’t want to be,” I choke out as he fucks me relentlessly.
He groans, his warm cum shooting inside me, and my walls pulse around him at the same time, sparks filling my vision as a second orgasm slams into me.
We stay as we are, panting, soaking each other in, before he snaps the padlock open.
The chains drop to the ground as he unwinds them from me and cradles me in his arms, bringing us to the bed.
He sits me on top of it, sliding my bodysuit off me, baring me to him. He drinks me in, but it’s not sexual.
“Beautiful,” he smiles. His thumb tracing circles around my scar.
He wraps us up under the blankets and places a soft kiss on my forehead.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
We lie there in silence, just relishing in each other's presence as the floor vibrates with the music from the club.