Page 50 of Shattered Obsession

Xander’s grip on my throat tightens just enough to make my breath catch, his gaze locked on mine. “You want this?” he asks, voice low but clear, steadying me even as the air thins.

“Yes.” The word trembles out of me, desperate, certain. “I want you.”

That’s all he needs.

He releases his hold to flip me onto my stomach, pushing my knees beneath me until I’m on all fours. His hand presses between my shoulder blades, firm but grounding. The position makes me feel vulnerable and open but safe because it’s him. His fingers trace down my spine, pausing at the jeweled base of the plug. A wicked chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“This… this is mine to take out, sweetheart.” The sound of the condom wrapper tearing echoes through the room. My pulse spikes, anticipation thrumming in my veins.

He pulls the toy free with deliberate slowness, the sensation making me gasp.

Then, without missing a beat, he lines himself up and pushes into my ass, inch by inch. The stretch burns at first, a sharp sting that makes me bite into the pillow, but his hand strokes down my side, steady and reassuring.

“Breathe, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” I exhale shakily, letting the pain melt into something heady, electric. Once I relax around him, he thrusts deeper, harder, every movement wringing out moans I can’t hold back. He grips my hips tight enough to bruise, each slam of his body against mine reminding me how utterly owned I feel in this moment and how much I want it.

His hand slides up, tangling in my hair, yanking my head back so his lips can brush my ear. “You tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s perfect,” I gasp, tears pricking at my eyes from the intensity. “Don’t stop.”

He picks up pace, one hand wrapping around my throat again as the other smacks my ass, the sting blooming into heat that only pushes me closer to unraveling. The lack of air, the roughness, the pressure—it blurs into euphoria. Just when I’m about to tip over, he pulls out completely, leaving me whimpering.

My body aches with denial, trembling. “Xander, please.”

“Beg for it.” His voice is sharp, commanding, but his hand rubs soothing circles on my hip, reminding me he’s still here, still watching me.

I lift my face just enough to whisper, broken and raw, “Please… I need you. Please don’t leave me like this.”

That does it. He thrusts back inside me, harder than before, setting a brutal rhythm that rips a cry from my throat. My body clenches around him, release tearing through me so fiercely I collapse forward, shaking against the sheets. Xander doesn’t stop until he’s buried deep inside, moaning as he spills into the condom.

He collapses over me, his weight heavy but comforting, his lips pressing soft kisses against the damp skin of my shoulder. When he pulls out, he doesn’t leave me adrift. He turns me gently onto my back, wiping my tears away with his thumb.

“You’re incredible, Thal. You know that, right?”

I nod weakly, still trembling, still floating. “Only because of you.”

He chuckles softly, tugging the blanket over us both as he pulls me against his chest.

“No, baby. Because of you.” And for once, I almost believe it.

He presses kisses along my shoulder. I count them—one, two, three—until the world stops spinning. I listen to his breathing until mine syncs with his. There’s no rush. No urgency. Just warmth. Just presence. Just us.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

-Thalia-

The room is thick with a heady mix of sweat and lingering traces of intimacy, but it’s Xander’s arms wrapped around me that create the most lasting sensation—solid, warm, and unwavering in their embrace. As I lean against him, I feel the damp strands of my hair clinging to my temple, and he tenderly wipes them away, his thumb gliding softly over my cheek. It’s as if he’s not just caressing my skin but also smoothing out every jagged edge left behind by my tumultuous past.

My body hums with a blend of exhaustion and relief, shaky and loose, yet my mind is unexpectedly clear, sharper than I thought it would be post-experience. Sometimes after intimacy, my brain tries to panic. It searches for danger automatically. A reflex.

Xander notices before I say anything.

He traces circles on my back, slow and steady. His breathing is calm, almost hypnotic. “You’re here,” he whispers. “Not there. Here.”

And just like that…

I am.

Typically, after something so raw and intense, the shadows of shame would begin to creep in, whispering cruelly in my ear. Dirty. Broken. Ruined. But tonight is different.