Chapter 25
Casey was in a cooperative mood and did his outdoor business quickly. Afterward, he padded straight over to the fireplace, got into his bed, and started circling and circling in the middle of the cushion.
I glanced longingly toward the stairs. But if I didn’t check on the status of that leak in my bedroom ceiling, I knew it would be nagging at me all night. And I did not want the distraction. So, mentally crossing my fingers, I headed back through the kitchen.
I heard a noise. Someone was in the dining room.
Cautiously, I pushed open the door.
“Maureen,” I said, seeing my housekeeper. “What are you still doing here?”
She sighed as she wrung out the mop. “I didn’t want to leave you with a big mess.”
“You’re still cleaning up after the baby shower?”
She nodded. “There was a fight.”
Uh-oh.
“A fight?”
“A food fight,” she clarified. “Apparently, Joanie’s gift was a Diaper Genie. But she didn’t go through the registry. And Jameela also bought a Diaper Genie. But—”
“You know what?” I said, holding up my hands. “I don’t even want to know. Just go home. Please.” I smiled. “And thank you.”
She smiled back. “I managed to rescue some of the cake,” she said. “It’s in the refrigerator.”
Normally, leftover cake from Kneadful Things would have been tempting. But not tonight. I bypassed the fridge and headed straight down the hall to peek into my room.
Thankfully, whatever repair work Xander had done earlier seemed to be holding. Despite tonight’s downpour, there was no additional water seepage. Breathing a small sigh of relief, I shut the door. When I returned to the lobby, Maureen was leaving. And Casey was already asleep.
I practically skipped up the old staircase. The steps let out a few predictable creaks and groans as I passed by the familiar old photographs of my ancestors, the ones I used to think were watching me.
Or watching out for me, maybe…
I paused on the second-floor landing, not sure where that stray thought had come from. It was as if a memory, long submerged, was bobbing just below the surface of my conscious mind…
Ah, whatever.
I shook my head, shrugged it off, and continued up the stairs. After all, I had much better things to be thinking about.
As I approached Room 401, my anticipation was high. My body was vibrating, and my insides were doing cartwheels. I wasn’t just excited, I was electrified.
Getting to the door, I knocked out of habit—although, I did manage to catch myself before I said, “Housekeeping.”
“Come,” called Xander.
The word, in his deep, commanding voice, had me nearly doing just that as I let myself in.
Usually, the big four-poster was the center of attention in here.
But right now, it couldn’t compete with Xander.
He stood beside the bed, his red hair hanging loose around his bare shoulders.
He was already gloriously naked above the waist, and I was anxious to catch up.
As I closed the door behind me and walked toward him, I started to unfasten my blouse. “You’re still awake,” I said.
His eyes watched me darkly as I undid my buttons. “And I’m feeling wider awake by the moment,” he returned.
Once I was within arm’s reach, he slipped his hand beneath the silk, along the bare flesh of my middle, and pulled me close.
My skin felt effervescent, like little bubbles were exploding wherever he touched.
His other hand was soon in my hair, fingers making my scalp tingle.
By the time he kissed me again, I was as fizzy as a bottle of champagne, ready to pop.
I kissed him back and let my own hands wander over his bare flesh.
As I explored the swells and ridges making up the terrain of his upper body, I had the overwhelming sensation that I recognized him.
It was more than a memory, more than just remembering him from a time ten years before.
But I couldn’t articulate it, not exactly.
I couldn’t put a name to my feelings any more than Xander had been able to put a name to his homeland…
Wait.
Actually, that was it: Xander felt like home. Home in a way that wasn’t about architecture or geography, space or place. He felt like home to me in a way that the Jersey Shore and the Sunny Side never really had.
Xander’s hand slid around to my breast, cupping it over my bra, and—uh, what had I been thinking?
Whatever it was, it flew out of my head as his mouth blazed a trail of kisses over to my ear.
“What did you say that drink was called again?” he whispered, rubbing his thumb over my lacy B cup as a hint.
“You mean a…a…a Slippery Nipple?”
“That’s the one,” he said.
He sat on the edge of the mattress and drew me toward him, positioning me between his strong thighs. I let my silk blouse fall away to the floor and helped him remove my bra. He inspected my naked breasts with naked longing, and my nipples tightened.
“Happy-hour special,” I said, my voice a little ragged. “You get two for the price of one.”
His laugh was like a hungry growl.
He leaned forward and sucked the tip of one breast into his mouth. I felt the tug all the way down to my core. I grasped at his big shoulders for balance and arched into him, groaning in pleasure as his tongue bathed my sensitive flesh.
“Delicious,” Xander said softly. Having made one nipple good and thoroughly slippery, he gave it a soft kiss goodbye and went to work on the other.
As good as it was—and it was gooood—it wasn’t enough. But we were both still fully dressed from the waist down. If we were going to take things to the next level, that had to change.
Reaching some silent agreement, we pried our hands and mouths off each other so we could remove the rest of our clothes.
My striptease was hardly graceful or elegant, but then, it wasn’t meant to be.
Abandoning my jeans and panties, shoes and socks in a twisted heap on the floor, I climbed fully naked onto the king-sized four-poster.
Having only ever made up the big bed and changed its sheets between bookings, I felt a little scandalous, like a kitchen maid in some period drama cavorting in the lord’s bedchamber.
Xander climbed onto the mattress next to me, and—oh, lord!
He really was stunning to look at. But I was so beyond just looking.
I tackled him playfully, and we rolled across the bed together, a tangle of limbs and lips. My hand found his cock, and I stroked him, marveling at how he could feel so rigid yet so velvety under my touch. When he let out a moan, I grinned.
“Do you remember the name of the shot I told you about?” I asked.
He moaned again.
“Do you remember what it was called?” I persisted, still stroking him.
“A Blow Job?” he said, practically hissing.
“Mmm,” I purred. “I think I want to do a shot.”
I slid my way down his body, down to his penis, and I circled his head with my tongue. He tasted of salt and smelled like the ocean.
I took as much of him into my mouth as I could, using my hands to work the rest of his shaft. I’d never gone down on an uncircumcised man—or a merman, for that matter—so I had to trust my instincts. But if I’d had any doubts, Xander’s rumbles and grunts of pleasure quickly dispelled them.
I felt a heady rush of satisfaction at pleasing him, even as my own need sharpened.
Xander reached down, raking his fingers through my hair. I expected him to urge me on, but instead, he tried to still me. “If you don’t stop,” he said hoarsely, “I’m going to lose control.”
Easing my mouth back off him, I peered up the length of his body. His eyes—heavily hooded and almost entirely pupil, with just a slim ring of green around the edge—met mine. “Isn’t that the whole idea?” I asked.
“I have a better idea,” he said.
Firmly but gently, he pulled me back up toward him. He rearranged our bodies until he was hovering over me, his erection nudging at my entrance. I was a tight ball of desire, begging to be unwound.
When Xander looked at me with lifted brows, wordlessly seeking my consent, I was about to shout every affirmative I could think of. But then something occurred to me. “Do we, um… Do we need to use anything?” I asked. “Like a condom or anything?”
He smiled and tapped his necklace. “We can use this.”
I let that register. The magic of that necklace had already saved my life. So, I certainly didn’t question its ability to protect me from STDs or pregnancy. I smiled back and nodded.
Thank you, Sea Wizard.
In a smooth, slow movement, Xander slid inside me, stretching me, filling me up—and holy fuck! Now I really did believe in magic.
“Okay?” Xander asked.
In answer, I twined my arms and legs around him, hugging him closer.
Miraculously, there was none of that first-time hesitation or awkwardness, no clumsy fumbling while we learned each other’s preferences. We moved together as if we already knew each other. As if we’d always known each other.
He pulled out and drove into me, thrusting deeper each time. I matched his pace, lifting my hips to meet him. I couldn’t get enough of him.
It felt like so much more than a joining of bodies. It was a melding of minds, a merging of spirits. It was perfect.
“This feels like a dream,” I heard myself say.
“Hannah,” said Xander in my ear, “this has been my dream for the last ten years.”
I wanted to think about what he’d just said, wanted to hold it and cradle it like something precious, weigh it and turn it over in my mind—except I was rapidly moving past all intentional thought.
As our rhythm picked up in speed, in intensity, I shifted slightly beneath Xander.
Somehow, his foreskin put unexpected pressure on my clit, and suddenly, a tsunami of a wave engulfed me, knocking me senseless and carrying me away.
It was like I was drowning again but not—or, at least, not in a bad way. Surrounded by the scent of Xander—the scent of the sea—I knew I was fine. So, as his cock jerked inside me and I felt his release, I let myself float. And for what seemed like forever, I was weightless. I was free.
I was home.