Chapter 11 Xaden #2
She rises up on her toes, trying to get closer. Trying to eliminate even small differences in our heights. Her hands are everywhere now. In my hair. On my shoulders. Sliding down my back. Demanding. Taking.
I guide her without breaking the kiss. Her back hits the prep counter and she gasps against my mouth. The sound draws a growl from me, low and possessive, pure alpha satisfaction.
I break the kiss just long enough to look at her. To take in the sight of her against my counter, flushed and wanting and ideal.
Her lips are swollen from my kisses. Red and slightly parted as she pants for breath.
Her cheeks are pink, color spreading down her throat.
Her eyes have gone dark, pupils blown so wide there's barely any blue left.
And her scent saturates the air until I'm drunk on it.
Intoxicated by pure omega desire mixing with satisfaction.
"You're so beautiful," I murmur, my voice rough.
She produces a sound that might be a laugh or might be a sob. Her hands come up to frame my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. Her palms burn against my skin, fever-warm and insistent. "So are you."
I kiss her again. Slower this time but no less intense.
Savoring instead of devouring. My hands slide up her sides, feeling the soft curves of her body through Garrick's shirt.
Touch blooms her scent stronger. Caresses steal her breath.
Movement presses her closer, seeking more contact, more pressure, more everything.
Her hands tug at my shirt. Pulling at the fabric, trying to get it off. I help her, reaching back to grab the collar and pull it over my head in one smooth motion. Toss it somewhere behind me. Don't care where it lands. Can't focus on anything except her.
She traces the lines of muscle with her fingertips. Maps the ridges of my abs. Slides up to my shoulders and down my arms. Learning me. Claiming me with touch. Her fingers leave trails of heat everywhere they go, burning through my skin, stealing my breath with passes.
I let her explore. Let her look. Watch her face as she takes in details. How her eyes go even darker. How her breath comes faster. How her scent keeps intensifying, getting richer and warmer with passing seconds.
"Your turn," I murmur.
My hands find the hem of her borrowed shirt. I wait, giving her a chance to say no. To change her mind. To stop this before it goes any further.
She lifts her arms without hesitation.
I pull the shirt over her head slowly. Revealing inch by inch of soft, pale skin. She's not wearing anything underneath, and the sight of her steals my breath. Erases thought except one.
Perfect. She's absolutely perfect.
I toss the shirt aside. It lands somewhere on the floor and I don't care. Can't focus on anything except how she looks. How she smells. How her chest rises and falls with quick breaths.
Her scent overwhelms now. Vanilla and honey and pure omega arousal so strong it spins my head. Alpha instincts take over completely. Everything narrows down to her and how she's looking at me like I'm everything she's ever wanted.
My hands move to her waist again. Sliding up slowly, feeling warm skin under my palms. She's so soft. So warm. So responsive to touch. How she shivers when my thumbs brush just under her ribs. How her breath catches when I move higher.
I take my time. Let my palms map inches of exposed skin. The dip of her waist. The soft curve of her sides. Up slowly, savoring how her breathing speeds up with anticipation. How her scent spikes as my hands move higher.
When I finally cup her breasts, she gasps. Her head falls back, exposing the long line of her throat. I watch her face as I explore, thumbs brushing over sensitive peaks, learning what pressure steals gasps and what draws moans.
She arches into my touch, pushing herself more fully into my hands. Her own hands grip my shoulders, nails digging in just enough to draw a growl. Just enough to tell me she requires more.
I give her more. Roll her nipples between my fingers, not quite gentle, watching her expression shift. Her lips part on a sharp inhale. Her eyes flutter closed and her scent blooms so thick I'm drowning in it.
"Xaden," she breathes. Desperate. "Please."
I lean in and kiss her again. Deep and thorough. My hands continue their exploration, touching, teasing, learning spots that steal gasps or draw moans or dig her nails into my skin.
She's so responsive. So ideal. Sounds and movements tell me exactly what she requires. What she craves. What drives her wild.
I break the kiss to trail my lips down her jaw. Her throat. Taking my time. Savoring reactions. She tilts her head back automatically, giving me access. Offering her throat in pure omega submission that has an alpha purr resonating deep in my chest.
The sound rumbles through me. Through her. She produces another of those soft noises, her fingers sliding into my hair and gripping tight.
I kiss along her collarbone. Down lower. My hands working, teasing her body. When I take her nipple into my mouth, she cries out. Her back arches, pushing herself closer. Her hands fist in my hair, holding me there.
I take my time. Lavish attention with my tongue, my lips, my teeth. Learn what draws writhing. What produces hair-pulling. What steals my name from her lips.
Her scent intoxicates. Pure omega longing mixing with pleasure, saturating the air until I'm drunk on it. Until breathing fills me with her.
I switch to the other side. Give it the same thorough attention. Her hips move now, seeking friction, seeking relief. Small rocking motions that brush her leggings against my jeans. The friction draws groans from us both.
"Xaden." My name is half gasp, half plea. Desperate. Needy. "Please. I need..."
"Tell me what you want." I kiss back up to her mouth. My hands slide down to her hips, fingers hooking in the waistband of her leggings.
"You." Her voice sounds wrecked. Breathless. "All of you."
I hook my fingers more firmly in her leggings and slowly pull them down. Inch by inch. Revealing smooth thighs, then knees, then calves. She lifts herself slightly to help, and I slide the fabric all the way off. Toss it aside with the rest of our clothes.
She's bare before me now. And the sight of her steals coherent thought from my brain.
Her skin is flushed pink, arousal written in lines of her body.
Her thighs are pressed together, and I can see the evidence of her longing glistening there.
Slick coating the inside of her thighs, catching the overhead lights.
Her scent has grown so thick it's almost visible, waves of vanilla and honey and omega arousal filling corners of the kitchen.
"Spread your legs for me," I murmur. My voice is barely human now. All alpha command and craving.
She does. Slowly. Her thighs part, revealing herself to me completely. The sight waters my mouth. Throbs my cock almost painfully against my jeans.
I step between her spread thighs. My hands slide up the inside of them, feeling smooth skin and quivering muscle. She trembles under my touch, small shivers running through her whole body.
"So beautiful," I murmur. "So ideal."
My thumbs brush higher. Closer to where she requires me most. She's soaked, slick coating her inner thighs. The scent of her arousal overwhelms this close. Pure omega longing that roars my alpha instincts.
When I finally touch her where she requires it most, she cries out. Her head falls back. Her hands grip the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles go white.
She's soaking wet. Slick and hot and ideal. I explore slowly, learning her. Finding the bundle of nerves that steals gasps. The entrance that clenches around nothing, seeking fullness.
"Xaden," she moans. "Please. Please don't tease."
"Not teasing." I circle that sensitive bundle of nerves with my thumb. Slow. Deliberate. "Learning you. Want to know what you like."
She makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Her hips rock against my hand, seeking more pressure. More friction.
I give her what she requires. Apply more pressure with my thumb while sliding one finger slowly inside her. The heat and tightness draw a groan. She clenches around me, her body trying to pull me deeper.
"More," she demands. Her hands leave the counter to grip my shoulders. Nails digging in. "Please, more."
I add a second finger. Stretch her slowly while my thumb continues its circles. She's so responsive, her body moving with me, meeting thrusts of my fingers.
I watch her face. Watch how pleasure moves through her. How her expression shifts from desperate to blissful. How her mouth falls open on gasping breaths. How her eyes squeeze shut when I find a spot inside that jerks her whole body.
"There?" I ask, stroking that spot again.
"Yes." The word is barely coherent. "Right there. Please don't stop."
And I don’t, but keep a steady rhythm, fingers curling to hit that perfect spot with thrusts. My thumb maintains pressure on her clit, circling in time with my fingers.
Her breathing gets faster. More ragged. Her nails dig into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Her thighs start to tremble, muscles quivering with the effort of staying open.
Her scent spikes suddenly. Sharp and sweet and overwhelming. Her whole body goes rigid for a moment, trembling on the edge.
"That's it," I murmur. "Let go. Come for me."
She cries out my name as she falls apart. Her body clenches around my fingers, rhythmic pulses that I can feel. Her scent blooms so strong it fills corners of the kitchen. Her thighs try to close, try to trap my hand between them, but I keep them open with my free hand on her inner thigh.
I work her through it. Keep my fingers moving. Keep the pressure steady. Draw it out as long as I can. Watch her come undone completely on my prep counter, beautiful and ideal and mine.
When she finally slumps forward, I catch her. Pull her against my chest. Let her bury her face in my neck while she trembles and gasps for breath.