The atmosphere sizzles with tension. I’m getting what I wanted, but I never expected anything so intense.
“Get on with it, Seraphina.”
My fingers go to the buttons of my blouse. Because I’m nervous, I end up taking longer than I want. And because he’s touched me, I have to press my thighs together tightly.
One by one, the buttons slip free.
His eyes never leave mine.
When I slide the blouse off my shoulders, he watches it fall.
The skirt follows.
I’m standing in heels and nothing else. No bra. No panties.
He circles me like a wolf deciding where to strike first.
“I think you’ve forgotten who you belong to.”
Slowly exhaling, I meet his gaze. Not in challenge but with a plea. “Remind me.” When did I become this emboldened?
He drags a hand down my spine and cups my ass again. “Bend over.”
I obey, this time bracing on the arm of the couch.
He spanks me, methodically, beautifully, until my cheeks burn and my breaths come faster and faster.
“Your ass should always be this color.” Then he hauls me upright and backs me against the wall.
Xavier kisses me hard. Unforgiving. Possessive.
Then again, with more force, he sweeps his tongue into my mouth, and I moan, clinging to his shoulders.
With one hand, he cups my breast, pinches the nipple until I cry out. Then he soothes it with his mouth, licking, sucking, making me arch.
How desperate I am for him terrifies me. “I missed this, Xavier.” My words are a whispered confession. And I need it.
For a fraction of a second, his gaze softens, and pure desire passes between us. Nothing matters, not work, not the merger, just us. And it’s exactly what I need. Then his mouth is back on my skin.
Against the wall, he fingers me, and when I’m about to climax, he stops, making me cry out.
“When I finally let you come, if I let you come, you’ll no longer question anything about me. About us.”
Again and again, he edges me, bringing me to the brink everywhere he can, moving me through my space, ensuring I’ll have memories of him no matter where I am. Over the armchair, flat on my back on the dining room table.
Each time, he leaves me cruelly close to orgasm. And each time that I sob with need, he praises me for taking it.
“Please, let me come.” I’m so lost in the experience, in him, that I’m shaking, shamelessly begging.
“No, baby.” He brushes his lips over my ear. “Not yet. You have another reminder coming, one you’ll never forget.”
He draws me to the bathroom.
I have no idea what’s next, and I look at him quizzically.
He turns on the shower. Steam begins to rise. And I’m so confused I don’t know what to do.
“Get in.” As he issues the order, he opens the linen closet and finds my long-handled bath brush.
