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This kiss comes from a desperate man who’s searching for redemption, seeking atonement. What’s happening between us now goes beyond his need for me to forgive him. This is so much more than that, and I know, without a doubt, that I’m theonlywoman strong enough to weather his dangerous expression of love.
“Tiny, Tiny, Tiny,” he laments, and the sound of my nickname on his lips has my heart swelling as his cock thrusts against my core through the joggers I’m wearing, dragging out an illicit moan from my bruised lips. Every part of my body lights up beneath his touch. I’m on fire.
My clit pulses, my nipples tighten, my pussy floods with more heat.
I come alive beneath his touch. Every part of me is sensitive to him.
Iache. Iburn. Iyearn.
His touch is painful, yet pleasurable.
His kiss is suffocating, yet freeing.
Xeno’s fingers slide into my hair as he grasps me to him, as though he’s afraid that I’m not real, that I’m just a phantom and I’ll slip through his fingers if he doesn't hold on tightly enough.
“I’m here. I’m here,” I reassure him, clutching him tighter.
My legs tighten around his waist. My fingers dig into his flesh as I grasp at him. His heart is pounding out of control beneath my palms. It feels like a ticking bomb. Turbulent. Dangerous. Fragile. So very, very fragile.
“Xeno,” I mutter against his mouth, my nails digging into his too hot skin as he takes and takes and takes.
But he can’t hear me.
He’s lost in his emotions, and I have a feeling if I break him out of this, it will hurt him in a way I don’t yet understand. So when he pushes on my thighs, urging my legs to drop to the floor, I follow his lead. I return every kiss, every bruising grip, every desperate, hungry moan.
Because I’m not afraid.
I want this. I want him.
Every dark part. All of it.
“Tiny… I need, I need…”
He can barely get the words out. It’s as though touching me, kissing me, is the only thing keeping him sane. As though fucking me, sinking inside of me, getting release, is the difference between him losing his mind and keeping it intact.
That thought makes me reckless.
So when he twists me around and shoves me against the wall, his hot, hungry mouth sucking on my neck, his hand cupping my throat as his thumb presses against the thumping pulse in my neck, I moan with lust and arch my spine.
When his free hand skates over my stomach and slides beneath the waistband of my jogging pants, I beg him to touch me.
When his fingers find my drenched core, and slide between my swollen pussy lips, I widen my stance, and rock my hips, encouraging him.
When he twists and pinches my nipples, sending lightning bolts to my clit, I scream at the agony and growing ecstasy.
When he enters me with two thick fingers and a deep, hungry growl escapes his throat, I push my joggers and knickers down, kicking them away, and bare my arse to him.
“I want you,” I say, my voice thready,needy.
“Fuck!” he exclaims, before biting down on my shoulder.
He removes his fingers, yanks me by my hips whilst simultaneously pushing between my shoulder blades so that I’m bent over at an angle, then drops down behind me and buries his face in my pussy.
He fucks me with his tongue, his saliva mixing with the heat of my dripping cunt.
I’m so fucking wet.
So turned on.
