by KD Robichaux
“Fuck,” is all I can manage to say.
“You would leave me wet and leaking with your seed while I tried hard to pay attention to you teach. My scent still in the air.” I think back to the times I fucked her before class when we first got together, and I swear it’s so potent I can almost fucking smell it. “Please, professor, teach me how to take it like a good little bird,” she coos, and I nearly break the chair when I stand abruptly and push it back against the wall. My hand comes thundering down on her globe, which ripples until I stop it with a firm grip.
“You are so fucking vile today. Are those my lady’s hormones speaking?”
She giggles. “No, Master, that’s my insatiable desire for you.”
“Damn it, you bad girl.” I snap her panties to the side and slide my finger from her clit all the way to her puckered hole. As I breach it, she jolts forward and nearly howls my name. “Xander!”
“Shh! I don’t need the dean hearing about the fuck session I had during lunch. Now, hold still. I’m just starting.” Seeing some grapes in the picnic basket on the desk, I pluck one free. Bringing it between us to her clit, my finger lightly thrusting in her ass, I rub her juices all over the grape, and when I feel it’s good and wet, I bring it to my mouth and fucking savor her taste.
“So ripe. You taste so damn delicious.”
“I want a taste,” she begs, her green eyes darkening over her shoulder.
“I don’t want you to. That’s all mine, and I’m so selfish I don’t want to share it with you.” I bring another grape from the basket, and she shakes her head.
“No, I want your taste.”
I understand what she’s asking and I’m more than happy to oblige. “Turn over and lie on my desk. Spread your legs.” She does it willingly and quickly.
I unbuckle my pants, every move slow and methodical, so she can anticipate my touch. I want her quivering, weak, and a fucking mess before I take her away. That makes me selfish and fucked up, but when it comes to her, I always have been, and I will do anything to keep her, even if it’s in the most fucked-up way.
“This what you want?” I ask when I release my cock from my pants, and I take the grape to the tip and collect some of my precum.
Lizith whimpers, “Yes, Master.”
Smirking deviously, I feed it to her. My insides fucking burn with my need to be with her. She savors the taste, before swallowing and humming her appreciation.
“Good girl. Now lie back, ‘cause I am going to fuck you hard, fast, and dirty, so we can eat before my final class.” Nodding, she waits, and I take her just like I promised I would. I ruin her for the rest of the day, and by the time our red-eye takes off, she sleeps on my shoulder nearly the entire flight.
I however can’t sleep, too worried for what is about to transpire between us in the next few days. And I just hope she will see the past as something that started our beautiful journey to forever.
I look down at her as she smiles softly in her sleep and whisper with my lips on top of her head. “Please, forgive me, little bird. Please understand how much I love you.”
She stirs a bit then settles again.
Chapter 13
Lizith
I have always wanted a secluded weekend away with Xander. He wants to hide me away and hold me captive at his mercy, and I want nothing more this Christmas than to be his. We haven't really celebrated the discovery of our little bean growing inside me, and I plan to let him ravish and captivate me, and then lie like a pet at his perfect feet all week.
He’s been on edge the past couple days, and I wonder if it’s me or the divorce, or what I truly hope it is—school drawing to an end. I don’t want him to be angry with me in any way, and I don't believe he would have any reason to be, since I have behaved better than he could ever want me to. And I sure as hell do not want Jacqueline to arouse any kind of emotion from him, because it is my time, energy, and emotions I want him drowning in. I will not share, and I will not let her come take away my keeper again.
I love him so much.
My eyes flutter open, my REM cycle breaking, and that dizzy state I come in and out of leaves me.
“Good morning, pretty little thing,” Xander greets me in my post-slumber haze. The handsome perfection before me is a sight that warms me to my very core, and I get that shiver down my spine and goose bumps on my arms that arouse me. The reaction I get now is the same one I got all those years ago. Blue eyes sizzle, creating a slow burn inside me, and I take a deep breath. My eyes flitter like an excited fairy under his calloused hands touching my cheek as if I’m made of glass.
“Don’t you mean goodnight?” I gesture with a side-eye to the window next to me in First Class. We took a later flight, because I was feeling the waves of severe morning sickness.
“Ever wise.” He pauses, bringing his lips to my forehead resting on his shoulder, and his strong hand grips my upper thigh. “And ever fucking sassy,” he growls, and I giggle when he squeezes the pressure point on my knee. A pool of arousal collects in my core, and if we weren't sharing First Class with a bunch of strangers, I would go ahead and start our weekend of ravishing.
“It keeps you young, and we all know you need it.” I give it right back, knowing that comment will land me an open palm to my bare bottom.
Xander doesn’t make a sound, and I peer up and see him looking forward, his tight jaw flexing and his hand on my thigh tightening. “Master?”
I gulp when he slowly peers down at me with a steady movement. Maybe it isn't as humorous now as it was when we used to use it as foreplay.
“One lash for being so fucking sassy. My age only controls you more. My age only fucks you better than any age after me.”
“Xander, I was… j… just teasing,” I stutter, suddenly afraid.
Burning a hole into me with his eyes, he speaks. “I’m only getting older, and I won’t let you trade me in for something younger.”
Oh, the rarely seen insecure side of Xander. He pets my wings when I fall short of confident, and on the rare—so very rare—occasions that he lets me return the favor, I thrive on it.
“Xander, don’t ever say that. I don't want anything different. Ever.” The last word comes out more dark and belligerent than I planned. “Please, never think of me wanting another man. There is no one I’d allow to own me like a perfect little bird other than you,” I whisper, nuzzling my face into his neck while my hand cups his chiseled jaw.
“Don’t be so sure.”
Part of my tough exterior crumbles and I’m thrown into the abyss. “Keeper, please don't say that. I don't want anyone else!” I holler, gaining the stares from others, but I don't care.
“Bird!” Xander barks, gripping my chin between his fingers. He holds me in place with no room to move and I feel tears building—from hormones and the pain in my heart.
“No. I don't want you feeling this way, my love. You are my everything, and when you speak like that, it seems like you are looking for an out. Please tell me you aren't going back to her and this trip is just a final goodbye.” A tear slips and I reveal my ugly truths.
“I’m never leaving you. Now hush and kiss what you hurt.” Releasing my chin finally, he takes my hand from where I have it placed against his abs and brings it to his heart. I nod and drop my head to his chest then pepper it with sorrowful kisses.
We have an audience, and I’m sure they all think the worst. Either I’m his daughter, or I am a woman he’s paid to take away to cheat on his wife with in a lap of luxury. But it doesn't hinder me. I am his, as he is mine.
We spend the rest of the flight touching gently and sometimes eagerly. We speak few words, but powerful ones with passion, fire, and promise.
He has a driver, and our luggage is already collected by the time we step out into the crisp night air, snow hiding inside heavy clouds, just waiting to fall. Those clouds are promising me a weekend of no escape from my love and our dirty, dangerous bubble.
How captivating it has yet to be.
> We pull up to the cabin around 9:00 p.m. and the porch light is welcoming, already setting the stage for a romantic, cozy getaway. The two-story, dark wood cabin is haloed by tall trees with the heavy scent of pine. I take a deep breath as he pulls me into his side and the driver unloads the bags.
“Welcome to your cage, pretty bird.” He caresses my lower back as my eyes jump all around the cabin, looking at all the windows and details. And it becomes even more breathtaking when we step inside. Right in the entryway, there is a brightly lit crystal chandelier with three tiers. It centers the stairs, which you can take up to the left or the right, and down the center is a path that leads to the kitchen and living area. My breath catches, because I truly feel spoiled. Just like he did with our home, he even takes me on vacations that are beyond my wildest dreams.
“Professor Xander Stine, you have truly outdone yourself, and I can’t even begin to think of how to repay you for this gift you have bestowed upon me. Really, you have done so much to bring us back together, and I don’t have enough in my possession to give you what you truly deserve.” I blink up at him, my cheeks flushed.
“Your life in my fucking hands,” he responds quickly, almost brash, as if he is hanging on to something that could easily slip away. It has my skin raising with little bumps from the sudden rushing cold air of uncertainty. What has gotten into my love? I haven't let on that I know he is… off, as I wait in my cage for him to come to me and lay his burdens at my feet. But he still hasn't, and it’s becoming decisively harder to keep my mouth and heart separate. I want to help him, no matter the situation. I have him, and he has me; whatever falls outside of that realm will not part our entwined souls.
“You already have that. I gave it to you the day your eyes met mine and your lips touched my skin. And yet I still don’t think it’s enough.” I moan against him when he pulls me in tighter and leans his head to bite the side of my neck. My keeper is lost and seeking refuge, and I am here to give him shelter from whatever is plaguing him. Tonight, he will not touch gently. No, tonight, he will stroke me with fire and douse me in gasoline to feel his burning touch more harshly, because he needs me to forgive him for something I feel like I already know but somehow don’t.
We are linked on a whole other level, so much so that I know when something is bound to fall apart. And he may not realize it, but I am already prepared to rebuild wherever it falls around us, even without knowing a thing of what haunts him.
“Take me to bed first. We can explore tomorrow,” I whisper into the cabin, my breath heavy and needy. I run my hands up and under his jacket and shirt, finding the warm skin and his trail of hair tempting me past the point of no return. The deep V at his hips meets my spread fingertips and I whimper, moving them slowly up his abs. Still so tight and warm and exotic, even with age. “Xander, please,” I beg, while errant tears of the almost unbearable need for my love, fall. It’s as if we could never get close enough, like I may never be able to imprint him into my heart deep enough—to where I won’t feel like I’m missing a part of me. I am no longer my own person. I no longer belong to myself. I was born and raised with a heart pumping blood through me that all belongs to him.
I am of his rib, of his soul, of his sum. I love Xander Stine, and I would lose all pride, dignity, or human rights to submit to him completely. I’m sick and twisted, and I truly lose no sleep over knowing how psychotic I can be for him.
“Tomorrow won’t come for an eternity when I get you alone. You're going to regret those words, my warped little bird.” He grasps my jaw with his fingers and my eyes flare. His blue eyes turn a smoky gray, as if the storm in him is overtaking, and I shiver, fucking shake to my core, when he does this to me. “Crawl,” he demands, and for a moment, I stand before him, unsure.
“But the bedrooms are upstairs.” I stare at the twenty steps of the staircase to the left, the one closest to where we stand, and he doesn't flinch or reassess his demand.
“Yes they are. Crawl. All the way to the bed.”
I peer up at him and, after a brief pause, I finally nod in understanding.
“Yes, Master.” Just like that, I get on my hands and knees, jutting my ass out as I do. That way, he gets a view of what is his. When my hand hits the first step and I lift up, I peer back at him over my shoulder, my wavy locks covering half my face, and I drop my eyes just the way he likes—submissively. His cock tents his faded jeans that he wears better than men half his age.
“The longer you take to get up those stairs, the longer I will go without fucking you till your pussy screams for me to stop. Now fucking crawl, my lovely tease.”
I giggle adolescently, like a kid on Christmas. Xander leans and slaps my ass hard, and I jolt into motion, crawling with ease and stability to make it safe for me and our little one inside me. That’s Xander’s and my hearts beating as one inside me, and I must protect it at all costs.
Finally getting to the top of the stairs, I feel and hear him behind me, his feet heavy and his breathing deep and dominating.
“Which way, my keeper?”
“To the left, little bird. First door.” I follow his directions, and when I breach the door, the hardwood floor is darker than the rest of the house, a deep cherry. The bed is a large, black sleigh bed with all black silk blankets and one white, fluffy throw blanket draped on the left corner. All the walls are painted white, with the exception of the one behind the headboard of the bed; that one is black. There is a beautiful abstract artwork of silver, gray, and black streaks on a glossy canvas, and my heart pitter-patters.
“You found something made just for you, it seems,” I whisper, now in position at the end of the bed, the backs of my thighs pressed against my calves and my hands face up on top of my legs.
“I like all my things to be how I demand them to be.” He lifts a masculine brow, indicating I am one of those things.
My stomach flips. I love when he talks so crass, like I'm his possession. There are days I love feeling like his person, but mostly, I like to feel as if I’m his property. It fuels the darkness inside of me.
“Oh.” It’s all I can say, because I feel him in my blood and I can’t get him out; it’s too much. I love him so much, and suddenly I’m overcome with trying to find out what is going on with him. My docile, meek, submissive side is starting to close up. I want to fix him. I want to release him of his worries.
“Face down,” he barks, and I almost do it on instinct, but something else inside me builds and I break the rules, fall out of line, knowing it will cost me.
“Xander.” I slowly stand, pushing up from the ground with my fingertips and tiptoes until I stand in front of him. I watch his eyes widen and his nostrils flare. I see the rage that accompanies my disobedience in his entire stature. He’s wound tight, and his stiff shoulders and balled fists at his sides scream louder than his harsh words could.
I was ready to make love, but no matter how much I try to ignore that telltale sign flashing red warning lights, I can’t.
“Xander,” I say again, reaching out for him, but before my hand can touch his arm, he takes a steady step back and hisses.
“On your knees, little bird. Did I tell you that you could move?” he yells, and I see the loss of control he submits to and my heart aches—truly aches. I feel whatever my keeper does. Down to my very bones, I feel it.
“My love, please.” I bring my hand to my slightly rounded belly and caress it while I drop my eyes to the floor. Xander makes no noise or movement, and as I look up to see his reaction, his demeanor has changed. With a hand ruffling through his salt and peppered hair, he has the other on his hip and his eyes are wild, moving back and forth between mine with a sheen of tears threatening to spill over. I break my stance, needing to feel him, touch him, break him open in my hands.
“Keeper, what is haunting you? Tell me, please.” My arms wrap around his waist and under his shirt to touch his warm skin. My bare chest is against his, my warm wall of safety almost crumbling under me as he lets a tear
fall and his body trembles.
Xander Stine never cries. Not even on the day we first said goodbye and he walked away from me. To see him so damaged and broken over something I have yet to discover devastates and alarms me.
“I can’t do it. I am about to strip your fucking soul, baby. My sweet little baby.” He cups my face and kisses me wherever he can. My nose, my cheek, my forehead, just under my eyes.
I start to panic, and the natural response that comes with that is my tears. I grip his biceps and whimper. “What did you do? Xander, what did you do? Please.” I pause, and he drops his forehead to mine, and the night he left me broken with clipped wings on his floor comes rushing back.
I push back from him abruptly, causing his hands to rip from my face as I twitch. “You’re leaving again, aren't you? Just say it!” I scream, the tears now falling faster. I don't care that they make me ugly and vulnerable. I am breaking all over again, and my keeper is the wrecking ball.
“No, Lizith, I am not leaving you. But you may fucking run from me when I tell you this.”
“I told you I would never run. You can’t get rid of me, Xander! You can’t.” The psychotic side of me starts to rear her twisted head. The side that never existed until I fell in love with him. “What did you do then? Just please, tell me,” I beg, stepping only one foot closer, leaving a gap between us.
“I won’t do it in here. Go downstairs. I’m going to pour myself a drink and meet you in the living room downstairs.” And faster than the speed of light, he’s gone, leaving a trail of fear in his absence. I feel terrified, unsure and so scared that I can’t trigger myself into motion. I feel glued to this damn floor.
Finally, after a few breaths and a moment of surreal realization that something bad is happening, I move. Covering myself in the fluffy white throw blanket, I make my way downstairs. I hear him in the kitchen, making his scotch on the rocks, and I hurry my steps, wanting to get this over with.