I grab a fistful of his hair by the scuff of his neck and drag him up to my mouth.
His tongue finds mine.
I finally regain the use of my limbs and push us off the wall, walking him backward, to my bedroom.
We trip over something on the floor, and break apart laughing for a second before Xander starts tugging at the elastic waistband of my shorts while I try to pull off his T-shirt, abandoning the mission to the bedroom.
A moment later I’m standing in my panties as I run my hands down his chest to the hem of his jeans.
He lets out a low sigh as I start to unbuckle his belt. Flushed and frustrated, I fumble the buckle until Xander’s hands are on top of mine, helping me.
Then, he’s naked.
My hooded eyes watch as he strokes himself. I suck air between my teeth in anticipation, but before I can reach my hands out, he tuts. “Not yet.”
I drag his body back onto mine and attempt to redirect us to the kitchen bench, but he lifts me up and continues carrying me to the bedroom.
“For the last three weeks, I’ve been tortured by a bed. Do you know what it’s like to share a bed with you every single night and not be able to have you?” His voice is rough like gravel, his pupils blown out. He doesn’t stop walking me into my bedroom. “It’s excruciating. We are doing this. In. Your. Bed.”
His mouth meets mine, demanding and impatient, as he mercifully guides me onto the bed, his body following mine onto the soft surface. The heat from his body sends every nerve cell burning for him.
Xander breaks from my mouth and trails kisses down my sternum, his fingers tracing lazy circles until he stops and looks up at me, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He hooks his fingers into my panties and slides them down my legs, and the anticipation of what’s to come sends me feral.
I run my hands through his curls before bringing his face down to my stomach, but he doesn’t need any encouragement as he starts tracing his tongue.
Lower.
Lower.
Lower.
At the last moment he reroutes his lips to where my thigh and hip meet.
I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing, but the fun is quickly replaced with frustration when he jumps to my other thigh. “Don’t stop,” I say, pleading.
“Just savoring every mouthful,” he says, holding his lips an inch from my skin. It sends a shiver all the way up my leg. Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
With one hand splayed on my stomach, holding me down, and the other one gripping my thigh, I feel his teeth and tongue scrape down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
His lips are on me.
There.
There.
There.
He starts gently. A trace of his lips. A hint of his tongue. The faintest hit of his breath.
It drives me insane until he finally opens his mouth and makes full contact.
At first, it’s slow and drawn out. He takes his time, like this is his favorite thing to do in the entire world. Like I’m his last meal. Like he could stay in this moment forever.
