Page 57 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

Then she collapses beneath me, her hands covering her face, overwhelmed. I recognize this feeling. I know it well.

Shame.

We’re not taught to accept our demons. What happens when we stop fighting them? What happens when we welcome them?

Are we ever the same?

I slow, still buried inside her, and slide my arms under her to pull her close to me. I can’t always give my darkness control. Not anymore. More than that: I don’t want to. I roll to the side, cradling her against me, and rock in and out.

Gently, I brush her hands to the side and bring my mouth to hers. I kiss her softly. I call to her. It’s hard to find the way out of the darkness at first. I know that. These shadows can consume you, make you feel lost. Since I’ve met her, she’s been the light guiding me from that depth. I can be her way home now.

“Clara?”

She peeks at me from wet lashes, and when our eyes meet, the final tension melts from her. Her palms flatten on my chest, and I see her count her breaths, see her count mine, see her find peace again.

I roll into her, still hard, my own pleasure locked inside me.

“Your pleasure is mine,” I say softly. “I will push your body until it nearly breaks, but I will never hurt you.”

“And can I break you?” She reaches to brush a hand along my cheek, her touch asking another question entirely.

If only it were that simple. “I’m already broken.”

“Then maybe I can fix you,” she whispers.

Her hands slip down, finding the hem of my undershirt, and I force myself to let her. I look into her eyes and remind myself I trust her. Her hand moves to my abs, my cock pulses inside her, unaccustomed to the touch.

A cry breaks the silence, and I realize it’s my own broken moan. She pauses her movement, pressing her hand completely flat against my stomach. After a second, she slowly begins to move it up.

“Don’t,” I say sharply.

Her eyes close, and she stops.

For a moment.

But when she opens them again, she says the words I never knew I needed to hear, “I claim this body. You are mine, Alexander. All of you.”

And she does. Her hand strays to my scars—the mistakes marring my body, the proof of my selfishness. Her fingertips brush over them, not knowing how to decipher what she feels. Instead, she continues to press forward. Her hips circle, reminding me of all the ways we’re connected.

I lower my face to her breast, allowing my body to trap her hand under my shirt. My hands move to clutch her ass, and she grinds into me, taking and claiming until I empty inside her. I let go, releasing the last parts of me I’ve held back, filling her with me and salting her breasts with tears.