I let out a moan, and I have nothing else to do but sink into it. No more thinking. Just feeling.
I relish in the build-up. Not wanting to rush. Not wanting it to be over. Not wanting it to end.
The hand Xander was using to keep my thighs wide lets go and his fingers swipe over me, getting drenched in the process before they’re inside me, curling against my inner walls. The perfect spot.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
And right when I’m on the edge, he whispers, without losing contact, “Come for me.”
The effect of pulling the pressure back sends an orgasm rippling through me—an ember turning into a wildfire. When I scream his name, Xander takes me fully into his mouth, coaxing out another wave of orgasms, one after the other.
Multiple. You don’t get that from Bone It.
As I come back down, I can’t help but let out a squeal. “Xander Miller,” I say, laughing deliriously. “How?” It’s all I can manage.
He hasn’t come up yet so I dare to look down at him, and he’s gazing up at me, grinning. “It’s all you,” he says, licking his lips like he just discovered his favorite flavor. Or that he’s tasted it again after being deprived of it for eleven years. Either way, he looks euphoric, andI’mthe one who just came over and over again.
“It’s all you,” I whisper back. And before I can freak out at that admission, he starts kissing me again. The taste of me on him is so fucking hot.
And then he’s kneeling over me, stroking himself. “Condom?”
“Bedside table,” I say, turning around to crawl up to the head of the bed, hearing a private moan from behind. I can’t resist; I arch my back to turn around and look. Xander’s eyes are on fire as he drinks me in from this angle.
His fingertips trace my naked spine before bracketing my hips. He leans down and kisses the dimples on either side of my lower back.
Then he looks back up at me, destroyed by the view.
“God, I want you ineveryway,” he says, before lifting his body off the bed. I track his every movement as he walks to the bedside drawer. He rips a condom off the strip and in two seconds it’s on. He’s so close to being inside me and the anticipation turns me desperate.
He flips me onto my back and crawls slowly on top of me. There’s a whisper in my ear that asks, “You still want this?”
There it is. An exit strategy. The disclaimer. Wecanstop. Just say the word.
The truth is, though, we can’t stop. So I nod in desperate agreement.
“Tell me what you want,” Xander says, not moving. Waiting for permission.
“I want you inside me,” I say, almost whining.
And then he sinks into me and I feel him ineveryway.
My hands immediately find his shoulders, pulling his closer. The weight of his body on top of mine. The smell of his skin. The look in his eyes.
The curls blanketing out the world.
“Ashleigh.” He says my name like a prayer as he slides a hand underneath my ass and pulls a leg up, angling deeper.
The position hits so good.
I look up and see the memory of him on top of me, his arms caging me, colliding with right now and—with the steady rhythm—I’m being nudged closer and closer to the edge.
I find his swallow tattoo and scrape my teeth over it before my lips travel up his arm where I lick at the sensitive spot on his skin between his shoulder and ear lobe.
“Fuck me,” I murmur. It elicits a groan, sending Xander reeling.
