by Ava Claire
My brain had run through every scenario for why he was calling. The first was that he called one last time just to tell me to fuck off. Or he’d laugh when I asked to come up, telling me I was eight hours too late. Silence was the most painful hypothetical, especially since up until the phone call he’d texted and left messages asking me to call back and talk to him. That old, familiar insecurity whispered that he’d reached his breaking point and there was nothing left to say. But he’d told the guard that I was okay. He’d even called me his girlfriend. Not the woman who was more headache than she was worth. Or the runaway bridesmaid. Not his ex-girlfriend. The elevator ride up I reminded myself that he wasn’t the one that kicked me to the curb. I was the one that left in a hurry and was laying low. Hiding.
When I opened the door and looked into his wild green eyes, I saw how foolish I had been. I’d been looking at him and Jenna through jealousy colored glasses because I knew that the look he gave me was for me. It was a tantalizing mix of ‘God, I want to be inside you’ and ‘Are you ok?’ and ‘I want to take you in my arms and never let you go’. I felt every conflict, desire, and something I never thought I’d find in that look.
It wasn’t something I’d expected to find without me properly atoning for my sins or hinting at it for weeks. There were no ‘I love you’s’ in the Robertson household. And ex’s? There was a process, and I love you was just the next logical step. Marshall practically had to be cajoled into saying it. But with Xander, I felt it before he even said the words. I believed it. And when I said it back, it wasn’t some sort of ritual, call-and-response thing. He took the leap and I was right there to catch him.
We were naked together. Well, emotionally. At the moment, I was well on my way to being naked, literally.
In my rush to get to him, panties were the last thing on my mind. I slowly removed my leggings, the air teasing my bare skin. I held my hands awkwardly over my nakedness like I was some virgin sensing her impending deflowering. When I met his gaze, I expected to see a smirk in his emerald green eyes. I was far from a virgin, and he’d already seen, kissed, licked, and possessed the part of me that I was covering for modesty. But the look he gave me was far from amusement. Even several feet away, the air was charged with lust.
It was just a look; just his eyes, and that's all it took for me to drop my hands to my side. The look was an authoritative snap that told me that I had nothing to hide. Nothing to be ashamed of. It said he needed me and knew that I needed him just as badly. Desire hummed through me like a live wire and while I didn't need the throat clearing reminder that there was a second, naughty demand I'd yet to fulfill, I welcomed the stern undercurrent in the sound. It told me he couldn't wait to have me. Couldn't wait to spank me.
I bit my bottom lip as I drew to him, the hypnotic pull of lust drawing me to those eyes. Those perfect lips. The muscular lines of him that I couldn't wait to feel. My fingers shot to my shirt, nearly pulling it off before his voice lashed out and stopped me.
"Leave the shirt on." His lips curved into a smirk that made me throb. Ache. "Patience, Penny. I'm going to have you. All of you-when we're both good and ready."
I wanted to to take his hand and put it on my flesh. Let him see how wet I was, just at the thought of him spanking me. I was good and ready the moment he'd uttered the command. I stole a look at his crotch and saw the thick bulge that tented his jeans. We were both good and ready. I opened my mouth to broadcast the obvious, but my words melted into a gasp when he reached out and pulled me into his lap. I was straddling him, my palms against his chest, every tortured breath he breathed vibrating through him and echoing through me. I knew I still wasn't the way he wanted me, but I teased him anyway, eyes locked on his, watching the moan flicker its way through the green depths as I swirled my hips and felt him pulsing beneath me. I leaned in and brushed my lips against his, desire taking hostage of me and there was nothing I wanted more than to kiss him.
He smiled, stroking my cheek gently as he breathed into me, bringing parts of me to life that I didn't know existed. I'd never felt this gloriously out of control. I'd never felt like I could climax from sheer anticipation alone, but I felt the pleasure building, starting at my toes and racing up my body like some wild, untamable thing. Just when I felt myself spiraling out of control, sparks of pain lit up my scalp as Xander yanked my hair and exposed my neck.
His lips traced my fevered skin. "On your stomach."
My limbs felt like jelly, my breaths no longer steady but needy, erotic pants. It was the sound of someone that knew that pain was coming. I wasn't afraid—I welcomed it because I knew that whatever he had planned would hurt so good.
I laid on my stomach, splayed across his lap. I savored his touch as he swept my hair over my shoulder, my brown strands dripping to the hardwood floor. His fingertips skimmed my spine and I was glad he hadn't thrown in something impossible like 'and be still'. How could I? Every part of me was heightened, raw, and needy.
His fingers, strong and sure and achingly skilled at making me twitch and writhe drew to my bottom. He smoothed over the globes like he was touching a piece of heaven. A fantasy come to life and finally within reach.
“How many strikes should I give you?”
My heart leaped and pleasure raced up my spine at the word ‘strikes’. And then I realized he meant plural. This would be no solid spank as he took me from behind; he was going to literally spank me—and he was asking me to dole out my own punishment.
I twisted my head to the left and looked up at him the best I could. I only saw the angular line of his jaw. A flash of a smile. “Um...five.”
“Five?” he repeated with a chuckle. “You can do better than that.”
My face warmed and I had a feeling that my ass was next. “T-ten?”
He caressed my left cheek, then my right. “That’s better. Here’s the thing. I think you can take more.”
I hitched a breath. “More? I haven’t...no one has ever really...” I suddenly forgot how to speak.
“Spanked you?” he finished. “Good. I’m glad that I get to be the first...and the last.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as he began, one fading into two that melted into fire. Each strike edged up in bite until I felt tears pricking my eyes and balled my fists. I lost count, my ass stinging as I unleashed a moan from deep inside. The number we were on didn’t matter to me. I was consumed by the way he commanded my body, knowing just how to collide and stroke my flesh to give me pain and pleasure. To make me gyrate and beg for more.
He lifted me like I was weightless, my body still rocking with aftershocks. He laid me on my stomach on the couch, the leather warm against my skin. His voice was low and sensual as he stroked my back. He made gentle circles, delicate swirls. “How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know if there are words for it,” I murmured. I realized that wasn’t true. I didn’t have the perfect words to describe how elated I felt, but I had words. I just laid my check on the cushion and spoke from the heart. “I feel bone dead tired, like talking alone is draining what energy I have left, but at the same time, I still crave more of you.”
“God, I love how insatiable you are,” he breathed hotly, his fingertips pressing into my flesh. When he skated toward my butt I tensed, but he just gently stroked me. “Don’t worry, I’m done spanking you. I have other plans. Other ways to tease you. Make you moan until you can take no more.”
“If I’m remembering correctly, you were the one that tapped out,” I teased demurely. “So maybe I’ll make you moan until you...X-Xander...”
His fingers dipped inside my core, the warmth of my body, the wetness, welcoming him, beckoning him to go deeper. Exhausted? Please—I vaulted myself up like a feline stretching her muscles after a night of chasing dreams, ready for adventure.
He hooked two fingers inside me, pulsing thrusts that I rocked back into. Just when I brushed the sensation that would send me over the edge, he’d slow down. Teasing me. Making me moan, just like he said he would.
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“Xander,” I begged, hanging my head. Arms shaking like a fresh recruit at bootcamp that couldn’t do one more push up. “I need you.”
“Nice try,” he said playfully, doing the exact opposite of what I wanted and pulling from me altogether. “You need me, yes, but there’s something else you need...and if you say it, I’ll give it to you.”
He knew me so well. I’d been twisting, grinding, gasping. So close to oblivion when he pulled me back. I knew it was a part of our game, the give and take, letting him take the lead, but I wanted to come so badly that I was about to tear off his clothes and mount him. “You know what I need. Why do I have to say it? Is that some sort of BDSM thing?”
He rounded to the front, his crotch and raging hard erection eye level. He undid his belt, taunting me as he slowly unzipped his fly. “I don’t need labels. I just like to take charge.”
“Damn it, Xander,” I groaned, steadying myself with one arm and reaching for him with my other hand. I felt the thickness of him and the memory of him inside, stretching me, was driving me insane with want.
He let me stroke him, his handsome face giving away just how badly he needed this too, but he caught my wrist, stopping me. “What do you need?”
“You.”
“That’s sweet, but you’re still not getting off that easy.” He stepped back and pulled off his pants. God, he was freaking sexy. I wanted to lick every part of him. I wanted more than to simply jump his bones. I wanted him to jump mine. I wanted him so close, so deep that we were in that place were words didn’t matter. Where nothing mattered except that bliss.
He pulled out a aluminum square from his pants, tearing open the packet with his teeth. “I want you to tell me you need to come because your words are powerful. I’m pushing this because the Penny I love has desires, fantasies, and urges that are valid. Don’t leave them in the dark. Tell me what you need.”
I looked at my man. My rock. The only man that saw me, challenged me, moved me...and there was nothing I could say that would make him run. I was finally safe.
“I need to come,” I whispered.
Far from a battle cry, but it was good enough for us both. He moved behind me and I arched my back, face down, butt in the air. He guided himself inside me, every inch more filling than the last. He gave me everything, stroking deeper, pushing me further into the clutches of abandon. When I cried out that I was coming, he smoothed his hand over my back like he was telling me it was okay. I let go, just as the fireworks exploded, bliss screeching like my favorite song on repeat. He leaned forward, and let out a shout of his own as his strokes became wild and we both got what we needed. Together.
When I crawled into his arms, it wasn’t for seconds, even though my body was game for more. I just wanted him to hold me.
“I love you,” he murmured, stroking my hair. His love stroked my soul.
I turned my head up to tell him that I was happier than I ever thought was possible, but his eyes were clouded over. I almost asked what was wrong, but I remembered Jenna. His father’s will.
“You free in a couple of hours?” When I nodded solemnly, he leaned in and pressed his lips against my temple. “I need to have a talk with my father.”
Chapter Six: Xander
This time, when I took my girlfriend to the house on the hill, I gave the driver the day off. I needed the time alone with Penny. I needed to do more than preach about facing demons and standing up to assholes. But the drive from the city was filled with surprising silence. I’d expected her to grill me about Jenna. To learn all the mechanisms that put us all on a collision course. The answer would have taken the commute and then some.
My little sister, Marie, came into the world spoiling for a fight. My mother used to tell everyone that we could have been mistaken for twins growing up, whipping out pictures to support her theory when people warily looked back and forth between the scowling six year old and the tiny, red faced tyrant. Marie had inherited my mother’s once honey gold locks and the soft, gentle roundness that my mother had spent the last ten years nipping and tucking away.
I remembered the blonde, Shirley Temple curls and blue-green eyes Marie would bat to get her way, hair ribbons taunting me as she flitted around like a butterfly. She cycled through hobbies and interests like trying on dresses and my father chalked it up to Marie just being Marie. When I wanted to sit out a summer session of Little League and try summer theatre instead, I earned myself a lengthy lecture on responsibility and honoring my commitments.
“Just in case we have the misfortune to run into her, I want to let you know that my sister had something to do with Jenna being at the wedding.”
Penny frowned. “Your sister? I don’t-” Her eyes widened. “Because she wants the company.”
I nodded glumly. “Nothing like family, huh?”
I eased the car to the gate, leaning out the driver’s side to punch in the security code. It was a date that was practically a holiday at the Wade estate: my sister’s birthday.
Before you write me off as some whiny brat who didn’t get enough hugs as a child, or claim that it’s not my sister’s fault that she was my parent’s favorite, you should know that she is literally the antichrist. Whether I wanted to or not, thoughts of my sister always dragged me to the first time I realized something was genuinely wrong with her.
We had a black lab puppy for a few weeks when we were kids. My mother was going through one of her charity phases and fell in love with one of the rescue puppies, and agreed to foster it until a permanent home could be found. One day, I caught Marie in my father’s study. She’d found the old man’s box of cigars and matches, and had arranged the furniture in a semi circle. She wore a cotton candy pink dress, her blonde hair in pigtails. I smelled the sulfur, and my heart nearly burst from my chest when I heard the puppy whimpering. When I heard the hiss as Marie struck the match, I stormed forward, shoved her aside, and scooped the puppy in my arms. I protected it until my dad came home early from his trip and the dog had to go. When I told my parents what she’d done, they barely scolded her. From that day forward, it was war between us.
I gripped the steering wheel as I pulled into the driveway, my mind already weaving conspiracy theories. Was she behind this whole thing? I could see her perched on my father’s bed, spewing all kinds of venom. Offering ‘helpful’ advice.
“Xander?”
Penny’s voice lured me from my angry thoughts, but I snapped at her anyway. “What?” When she pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow that said, ‘Not today, mister’, I apologized. “I’m sorry.” I killed the engine, dread swirling in the pit of my stomach. “Just in case its not obvious, home is definitely not where the heart is.”
“That’s right.” She reached over and placed her hand over mine. “Your heart is right here.” She squeezed my fingers. “I’m beside you and no matter what happens when we walk inside that house, you’re going to be okay.”
This woman, my woman, who taught me how to love and accepted all the broken pieces of me...I didn’t know how I’d gotten so lucky. But I had my own fears, my own insecurities. The fact that I was sitting in the car, wishing that I could just say to hell with them all and put my family in the rearview felt like weakness. Even now, with Penny clutching my hand like she was trying to lend me some of her strength, the little boy that was told over and over that vulnerability was unacceptable almost pulled away. "What kind of a man is so afraid of facing his family that he'd rather chew his arm off than walk through the front door?"
Penny strummed my hand with her thumb, giving me the most gentle smile I’d ever seen. "A man with a family that spent years trying to make him small and insignificant. You're here now, in spite of all they've done to crush you, Xander. You're not weak, you're beautifully strong."
I pulled away, but only so I could take her face in my hands and kiss her properly. I tasted love and forever on her lips. If I could think stuff like that, then being a little squirrelly about a family reunion didn't seem so bad.
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Branson was waiting at the door, the bubbly, infectious routine he'd done for Penny before a distant memory. He looked like he'd been on his deathbed and my mother had snatched back his covers and demanded that the show go on.
Penny tightened her grip on my hand, silently asking me what was going on and I wondered the same thing. I'd never seen a wrinkle in his uniform in all the years he'd worked for the family. His bald head always shined like it was freshly polished. Today there were patches of thin gray hair. His face was languid, his eyes red along with his cheeks and the tip of his beak-like nose.
"You sick, Branson?" I asked gingerly, keeping my distance.
"No, Mr. Wade," he sniffed indignantly, stepping to the side and letting us pass. "Your father is ill."
Penny's hand ran up and down my arm, like she could sense that I had zero patience for his whole endless devotion to my parents spiel.
"This may come as a shock to you," I said tersely. "But I'm aware my father is sick."
"And yet this is only your second visit in months." He turned to Penny before I could growl another word, flashing her a pained smile. "You must excuse me, Miss Robertson." He dropped an eye to his disheveled clothing. "Let me assure you that my misshapen appearance is far from the norm."
"Usually he's in a top hat and cravat."
My sister's playful lilt drifted from the stairwell. I must have been more shocked by Branson's appearance than I realized because I missed the walking, talking mannequin who was perched against the bannister. Marie was in some peach colored evening gown with pearls looped around her neck. She'd cropped her golden locks into a bob that managed to make her look even younger than I remembered. She brought a cigarette to her lips and lit it, taking a long drag that she released with a sigh.