by Naima Simone
Hot blasts of air heated her lips as Xavier panted beneath her. He lifted his head from the pillow, the tendons in his neck stretching against his dusky skin as he reached for her, silently demanding more. She tore her mouth from his, planted her palms on either side of his head and stared down at him. His chest rose and fell in labored breaths. His eyes gleamed from under lowered lids, beckoning her to feast on him again. Damn, did she want to concede to the invitation. But first…
She straightened and once again cupped his jaw. His lashes fluttered, but didn’t lower. When she slid her fingers over his temples and under his head to the bound tail of hair, his eyes widened and a flicker of panic flared in their emerald depths. A fist squeezed her heart at the spark of anxiety, but she steeled her resolve and untied the band imprisoning his hair. His powerful body tensed beneath her thighs and his features—lax with contentment a moment ago—slowly stiffened as if bracing for a blow.
She massaged his scalp to reassure him he was safe with her and spread the thick strands over the white pillowcase like a dark cape. So beautiful. She sighed and gripped a handful of the heavy, mahogany mane, lifted it to her nose and luxuriated in the surprisingly soft silk and clean, fresh scent.
“Don’t,” he objected hoarsely.
Her heart twisted at the desperate fear roughening his voice, but she forged on.
“Shhh…” she whispered soothingly and let the long hair sift through her fingers as it drifted back down to the pillow. He studied her as she leaned over him, his gaze intent. The stark planes of his face remained set in rigid lines, reminding her of the contained stranger she’d confronted a week ago…and encountered that morning.
But the man from earlier wouldn’t have allowed her to bind him to the bed, submitting his body and control. Leaving himself vulnerable. She’d walk away from this bed, this house, before betraying the courage it had taken him to stretch out before her naked in body and soul.
She took his mouth in a tender kiss. At first his lips remained unyielding, but she continued her sensual assault, nuzzling, nipping, until with a soft moan he gave in and his lips parted underneath hers.
“I think I could kiss you forever.” The admission escaped her before she could snatch it back. Heat, unrelated to passion, warmed her cheeks.
“And yet you stopped.”
Her heart missed a beat and then raced to catch up.
“I’m not even close to stopping.” She trailed a damp path down his chin and over the line of his jaw. Her lips bumped the ridge of flesh marring his chin and his body stiffened. She brushed a caress over the mark and ignored his low hiss of breath.
It would’ve been so easy to acquiesce to his “hands off” body language and move on to his neck or shoulders.
But not tonight. Not when she could show him how beautiful she found him—scars and all—without him being able to walk away or shut her down.
The length of the scar from chin to hairline received her devotion. Without words, she declared his loveliness. Hot blasts of breath seared her cheek as his hoarse rasps echoed in the silent room. The tendons in his neck stood out in sharp relief as if any moment he might throw his head back against the pillow to evade her touch.
Yet he remained still as a statue except for his heaving chest.
Again her heart wrenched at the sign of his obvious agitation, but she didn’t stop.
When she moved on to his chest and abdomen, she began the homage all over again.
By the time she returned to his mouth, his muscles had loosened, the austere lines of his face had softened and a faint flush painted his high cheekbones. Instead of rough inhalations, low pants rushed in and out of his parted lips. She studied his sensual features and met his stare, glowing with desire and something so raw, so wild she couldn’t name it…was afraid to label it.
“I want your mouth on me,” she murmured and nuzzled the curve of his ear, empowered, emboldened by his restraint and her passion. “Will you make me come, Xavier? Make me cry out your name? Make me beg even though I’m the one in control? Can you do that?”
His gaze widened in surprise before narrowing. How he could resemble a predator while tied and imprisoned baffled her. Even more confounding was how she could shake like the prey caught in his sights.
“Slide up for me, Gwen.” His husky command shivered down her spine and caused more liquid to dampen her thighs. Unable to prevent the motion, she circled her hips over his chest, the movement exerting direct pressure on her clit. The slow grind inflamed and satisfied the pounding ache and she groaned. “Come on, baby. I can’t give you what you need unless you move. As much as I love seeing you explode, I’d rather have your sweet cream in my mouth than decorating my body.”
The words and underlying hint of strained laughter urged her forward. In moments, she had one knee beside his head and the other on the outside of his cuffed arm.
“Grab the headboard.”
She glanced down her torso and bit back a pained cry. Though searing desire coursed through her and weighed her eyelids, she forced her eyes to remain open. She didn’t want to miss the erotic vision of Xavier staring up at her from between her spread thighs, his full lips only a breath away from grazing her aching flesh. Seconds from dipping his talented tongue into her core and driving her to heights only he could carry her.
She whimpered.
Then lifted a knee and whipped around.
“Gwen?”
She ignored his raspy question and planted her palms next to his narrow hips. His long, steely erection lay against his stomach like an intimidating length of thick pipe topped by a flushed, smooth cap. A drop of precum beaded at the slit as if welling just from her captivated gaze. Jesus, he was beautiful. Like Michelangelo’s David. Sculpted, virile and perfect.
“Gwen,” he repeated. “This isn’t for me, baby. You don’t have to do this.”
“I know,” she responded, already reaching for his cock. Just thinking about what his flesh could do inside her pussy made her clit pound and her empty core spasm. “This is for me.”
To have him fill her mouth, to discover if the same wind-and-rain taste of his kiss would transfer to his cock… Yes, this was all for her.
She leaned down and engulfed the bulbous head. Immediately his untamed flavor detonated on her tongue and she moaned with excitement. She squeezed his flesh, stroking her fist up the hard shaft until her fingers bumped her stretched lips. Another spurt of his seed pulsed from the narrow opening and she lapped at his salty essence. God, it was just so good.
“Dammit, Gwen.” Xavier’s hungry growl penetrated her lust. “Give me your pussy. Now.”
She released his cock with a small pop and stared, bemused, at the wet head. She’d been so engrossed in finally having him in her mouth, she’d forgotten about her original request. With a small shake of her head, she lowered her lips to his erection and her pussy to his mouth.
“Oh God, Xavier!” She flung her head back as the scream ripped from her throat. He thrust his tongue past her cream-coated folds to the clenching tunnel beyond. “Please, no…yes,” she sobbed as he stabbed deep. “Yes.”
He licked her, consumed her. His teeth latched on to one swollen lip and he sucked, flicked and laved it before moving to the other. Though he was tied to the bed, he mastered her as if he were unbound, gripping her hips and guiding this seductive meltdown. His mouth held her captive and all she could do was follow his lead.
“Fuck my mouth, baby,” he ordered, his hot breath an added caress to her sensitive flesh. “Ride it like my cock.”
His cock. Damn. She’d forgotten all about pleasuring him while his tongue tormented her pussy. She tightened her grip on his stalk and stroked down to the wide, flared base, then returned up and over the head. On the return trip down, precum lubricated the path until her fist glided back and forth, back and forth in a relentless rhythm.
“That’s it,” Xavier encouraged on the tail of a harsh groan. “Squeeze it tight, baby.”
Gwen i
magined if his hands were free, he would’ve swatted her ass. How she conjured that particular picture—or why her core spasmed in excitement—she couldn’t explain. Except… Until Xavier, maybe she hadn’t known what she desired from a lover. Not until he’d shown her.
She knelt over her lover, his lips and tongue buried in her pussy while she fisted his cock.
“God, you’re sweet, Gwen,” he murmured over her clit before sipping at the engorged, aching button.
“Xavier.” She gasped and couldn’t have prevented the buck of her hips if she’d been threatened to hold still. “Please. Again. Harder. Suck me harder.”
As if to torment her, he flicked her flesh, the touch light and teasing and nowhere close to the pressure she needed.
“Don’t tease me,” she demanded. Two could play at torment. She suckled his gleaming cock head. She bathed the tip with long, slow licks and alternated with strong, hard pulls.
“Fuck,” he growled and then ended her suffering. Giving her no quarter, he clamped down on her clit and drew hard. He sucked, nipped and encircled her flesh. Heat gathered in the nub and eddied in ever-increasing pools of pleasure. As he feasted on her pussy, she rode his face, the wet sounds of his mouth adding to the surreal sensuality. Once more she let go of his cock to immerse herself in the wild, carnal passion.
It crashed on her. The orgasm didn’t swell or creep, but broke over her like a sonic blast, its waves echoing against her skin in one powerful surge after another. She screamed with the ecstasy of release. Trembled over him. Quaked over him. Seizures gripped her in their seismic hold and racked her body.
She plummeted back to the realm of the living and pitched forward to rest her cheek on his jutting hip bone. Her eyes opened and the broad base of his cock surrounded by dark, springy hair greeted her. Her quick blasts of air stirred the curls and his musky, tantalizing scent of sweat, skin and sex caused her to shudder.
“Gwen.” She shifted, his breath an almost unbearable caress on her vulnerable flesh. “Gwen,” he repeated. She roused at the urgent knot in his strained voice and slid off his chest. She curled up next to him, her knees pressed into the sides of his torso. “Baby, I need you.” From her vantage point, his strong throat worked as he swallowed. “I’m going to go crazy if I’m not inside you. Fuck me, sweetheart,” he whispered.
The plea moved her like nothing else could have. She scrambled to her knees and, in spite of her sated lethargy, slid off the bed and jerked open the drawer in the bedside table. Quickly, she ripped the top of the foil packet and removed the condom before straddling his hips and sheathing his erection in the latex.
With one hand, she positioned his cock so the head prodded her slit, the palm of her other hand pressed against his abdomen. Muscles flexed and tightened beneath her touch as if in preparation for thrusting between her folds and being gloved in her sex.
She glanced past his chest to his tightly drawn features. The bright, jeweled gaze stared back at her, burning like the heart of the hottest fire. Every muscle in his body was drawn as tight as a bow. If she freed his hands in this moment, he would no doubt spring up and take her down like felled prey.
Slowly she rubbed the cock head through her crease, wetting the wide cap in her silky folds. The broad tip bumped against her clit, skimming the sensitive bundle of nerves, and she inhaled sharply. Oh yes. She hummed. Just once…more. She whimpered. And did it again.
“Don’t tease me,” he said, flinging her earlier demand at her, his arms straining against the restraints. “I’m at the breaking point, baby. Put me inside.”
She shivered. Yes, she delighted in the brush of his cock on her clit, but she craved to be filled by him as much as he needed it. She nudged the cock head between her folds and sank down.
She gasped at the tight fit. Last night he’d been so large at first she’d been afraid they wouldn’t fit. He’d reached for her once more as night tipped over into morning, taking her again, so she should be used to his size, but the pressure now was heavy and delicious. God, it hurt so—she sank down another inch—good. She glanced down at the thick, veined stalk yet left to take and wanted to groan in anticipation…and a tad bit of trepidation. There was so much of him.
“Look at me, Gwen.” His husky voice drew her attention from the intimidating length of his cock to his face. The hard, taut features belied his gentle tone. “It’s the position that makes taking me a little more difficult. But you can do it, baby. You can take my cock inside you. I want to be balls-deep, sweetheart. I don’t want an inch of my cock left untouched by the sweetest pussy I’ve ever fucked. Come on, Gwen. Take it.” His timbre deepened as he studied her from under his gleaming, sensual gaze. “Take me.”
Surely the serpent’s tempting of Eve couldn’t have been more seductive than his invitation. And the result was the same. She gripped his erection and pressed down. The wide length burrowed into her spasming pussy. She moaned, flexed her hips. And another couple inches disappeared into her flesh.
So full. She held still and allowed her body to accustom itself to the penetration. With both palms planted on his ribs, she raised her hips off his cock and slowly—so slowly—descended, taking more of him. Delight rippled through her core and she gasped. Eagerly, she duplicated the motion and hissed out a breath as her existence narrowed to include only desire and Xavier. She slid up his shaft until just the rounded peak of the head remained inside her clutching entrance. And then she sank back down, engulfing more of his length than she’d claimed on the previous trip. Each slow stroke drew a cry from her so the quiet room was punctuated by her whimpers and the wet suction of her pussy fucking his cock. It was the sweetest music she’d ever heard.
“Dammit, Gwen,” Xavier growled, his back bowing. “Get down on my dick.” His hips jerked hard and in spite of the leverage her hands provided, more of his rigid column penetrated her tight sheath. “Now, Gwen.”
“So,” she groaned, squeezing her muscles as she lifted off him, “impatient.”
She glanced down. She’d taken a little over half of him, yet the thickest, fattest part of his shaft still remained to be conquered. Sweat poured in rivulets down the vee between her breasts and she shuddered at the pressure between her thighs. God, she was stretched, filled, but she wanted all of him. The slow ride she’d been enjoying wasn’t enough anymore. She hungered to have every inch of him embedded deep so next week, when he was gone from her life again, she would still feel him.
Inhaling, she flattened her palms on his chest, tightened her thighs and glanced up at him. “Help me,” she whispered.
His eyes glittered and, as one, he thrust upward as she surged down.
A hoarse cry erupted from her joined by his raw groan. Oh God. Oh. God. Possessed…she was possessed. As her muscles quivered madly around his cock, as he occupied her pussy, leaving nothing untouched, she became a new creature, one forever imprinted with Xavier’s mark. She’d never be free of him.
“Shhh…” he soothed as his big body shuddered beneath her. Only then did she realize soft whimpers were coming from her throat. “It’s okay, baby. I can feel you surrounding me. You’re so sweet, so—” His voice broke and a strong tremor shuddered over him. The vibration thrummed through her stretched pussy. “Fuck me, baby. Take me away from here, Gwen. Take me to heaven.”
She swallowed. His words—the plea beneath—penetrated her heart as surely as his erection pierced her flesh. Trembling, she rolled and pitched her hips, allowing the intoxicating excitement to consume her. On every downward stroke, his cock head rubbed a place high inside her she hadn’t known existed. Her clit hummed as if electricity had a direct route to the nerve-packed bundle.
“Yes, baby,” he moaned, meeting each thrust with one of his own. “Harder. Damn, you’re so good.”
His words spurred her on until she rode him with abandon. Her walls grasped at his dick with each withdrawal as if reluctant to release him, eagerly sucking him back in her depths on the plunge downward.
She wanted
the wild ride to continue forever, but as the orgasm neared, tingling at the base of her spine, pressing against her clit, holding on didn’t remain an option. So she welcomed the explosion. Hurled herself into the fiery cataclysm, unknowing if she would be reborn or incinerate in the flames.
Through the roar in her head and the frantic hammering of her heart, Xavier joined her. And even as sweet oblivion opened its arms to her, she wasn’t alone in the darkness. Never alone.
Chapter Eight
“I will send you to your father, you shall remain with him, and poor Beast will die with grief.”
—Beauty and the Beast
“Dying is easy. It’s living that’s a kick in the ass.”—Xavier St. James
The September sun painted the world with a gilded brush. The green pastures were vibrant, jeweled acres, the brick red of the stables glowed crimson and the sable coats of the frolicking horses gleamed with health and vitality. Though fall had barely arrived, the morning air contained a small nip even though winter’s grasp still remained several weeks away.
A perfect morning.
Gwendolyn sighed and tilted her head back, and the sun’s rays teased her face with their warmth. Yes, a perfect morning…if she wasn’t out here at the corral, avoiding. Well maybe hiding would be a better word. They both amounted to the same thing, but avoidance didn’t seem as cowardly.
She flicked a glance over her shoulder toward the house. It stood like an elegant, imposing sentinel against the clear crystal-blue sky. An apt description for its master. Urbane. Commanding. Guardian of this haven he’d created for himself in the beautiful Berkshires mountains. A refuge far from the shallow glitz and glamour of Boston society. A refuge where he probably allowed no one entrance.
Except her.
“Oh damn,” she mumbled, turned and rested her forehead on top of her folded arms. The wooden railing of the corral bit the underside of her arm through the thin jacket she’d donned in deference to the cool morning air. She ignored the slight discomfort, too preoccupied by the much sharper pain brutal honesty often caused.