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He must have sensed it in me—or maybe he was ready to beg, too.
With a single finger, he entered me. I gasped when he slid it inside, first in surprise—it didn’t hurt—then again in ecstasy. It didn’t hurt even a little. It was the opposite of hurt. An itch that only he could scratch. A deep sensation of release.
He moved within me, making come hither movements, and though my eyes were closed, I saw the flash of fireworks again. With just a finger, he stole the darkness from behind my eyelids and replaced it with a bright, blinding light.
I moaned into his lips, the sound soft and pitiful as I rode out the waves of pleasure. My hips rolled upward, my back arching to meet his touch. His hips rocked against me in return, pinning his hand between us. Beneath the pressure of his pelvis, the heel of his palm rubbed against my clit. Immediately, everything complicated and intensified, twisting and tumbling entirely out of control.
“Xander,” I rasped, clinging to him. “God, Xander, please—”
What was I even asking for now? I had no idea. More pleasure, maybe. His tongue, or his cock, or just for this moment to last.
More of him.
“Fuck,” he swore, pulling back.
I cried out as he withdrew his fingers from me. Suddenly, I was too empty, abandoned in my moment of greatest need.
He was quick to make it up to me. He slid off the bed onto his knees. His belt buckle clanked against his thigh as he tore it open. He drew his cock out, forcefully and rapidly, then hooked an arm under my thigh as he took his shaft into his fist.
He tugged me roughly to the edge of the bed. My leg ended up over his shoulder, slung like the strap of a rifle. In my desperation, I pressed my calf to his spine, pulling him closer.
His mouth met my cunt like a heat-seeking missile. He kissed me there fiercely, lips and tongue moving with a ravenous hunger. Beneath my thigh, I could feel the jostle of his arm as he stroked himself to the taste of me. His other arm settled over my pelvis, pinning my hips in place, while his tongue glided up and down my slit in ways that made it all too necessary to hold me down.
I felt the universe split around us. The fabric of reality stretched and strained and tore. My breath hitched hard in my chest. I was gasping for air in huge, deep gulps, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch my breath. The sensation was like crying in a way—the brutal, heart-wrenching kind of sobbing that left me thumping my fists against the mattress, and my sinuses burning with tears. But it was like laughing, too—the kind that swelled so great in my chest that my ribs ached, and my face felt sore deep in the muscles of my cheeks.
As I lost myself in yet another storm of pleasure, Xander gave my clit a final suck, then rose, snarling. He stood over me, fearsome and formidable as a dark god. His cock twitched in his fist as he pumped it. Seeing it—its thickness, its length, the veins that ran up and down its shaft like tributaries of a live-giving river—stole every breath in my lungs.
He collapsed on top me, shuddering as he came. His seed shot across my nightgown, all the way up to my breasts and neck. My arms locked around his shoulders, pulling him against me, legs winding about his waist, drawing him in, refusing to let him go.
Our bodies tangled together on the mattress, rocking together. I felt like a rowboat in the middle of a vast, treacherous ocean, one that had somehow managed to weather the storm.
There were no words—not for a long while. There weren’t even kisses. For a few minutes, I wasn’t sure that my brain would ever function properly again. It was flooded with endorphins, leaving me caught in a stupefying high that seemed to have no end.
Xander nuzzled against me, running his hands down my body, and breathing me in.
Finally, his lips hovered over mine like a question.
I leaned in to accept the kiss. There was something grounding about it, a firmness and a comfort that brought me down just enough that I was able to form coherent thoughts again.
“God, Felicity,” he whispered when he broke the kiss.
He cupped my face and breathed in sharply through his nose, stroking my cheek with his thumb.
“I love you,” he said. “I love you so much, it could fucking kill me. I’d welcome it, even, because it would be because of you.”
“You’re not allowed to die,” I informed him, my eyelids fluttering half-closed. Even grounded, I was still flying.
“Any moment I have to spend apart from you is like dying,” he admitted. “But if you’re commanding me to live…”
“I am,” I assured him, my voice uncannily throaty and deep. I still hadn’t caught my breath. “I need you too much.”
The hand that held my cheek trembled, then moved more firmly against my jaw.
“Then, I’ll live for you.”
He kissed me again, harder this time. His tongue pressed between my lips and slid greedily against mine. He tasted like a summer memory, as indescribable as the way the air smelled before a rainstorm.
We stayed entangled like that, kissing and touching and breathing in each other’s breaths, as the hours rushed away from us, until it was time for him to go.
