He hooks both hands under my knees and lifts my legs, then presses them over my body and down to the bed as if he’s sandwiching me in half. It’s flexibility I didn’t know I had, but Xander’s careful in his movements and I’m too distracted by his cock to care.
From this position, he’s pounding directly down into me and hitting my G-spot on every single stroke.
The constant bursts of pleasure are so intense, I can barely breathe, and looking into his eyes this time is an entirely different experience.
I’m losing myself.
To pleasure.
To him.
It’s bringing me peace I never knew I could reach.
Every grunt, gasp, and moan is music to my ears.
I clutch at his neck, caress his cheek, and tug on his hair as pleasure builds and swells inside me, and Xander doesn’t stop.
He fucks like a man possessed, unwilling to stop even for a second, and I drink it all up with every passing second.
His mouth twists, his cheeks flush and his eyes become so dark that it’s like falling while gazing up into the dark sky.
Then we’re coming together, trembling and shaking like every joint is about to pop free, and the only thing keeping us together is my pussy clinging to his cock.
It’s so intense and the pleasure is so hot that I can’t tell if I squirted again, but judging by Xander’s pleased smile when he glances between our bodies, I think I did.
He gently lowers my legs and collapses down onto me, panting.
Forehead to forehead, we exist in the same space, sharing air while my worries melt away and my body twitches with aftershocks.
I’m falling for him.
In fact… I think I’m past the point of no return, but even that revelation and impending heartbreak don’t dampen the mood.
For now, I’m truly happy.
I’m about to tell him but as our lips meet, an indignant meow rises up from the doorway where Willow has shoved the door open, and we collapse into soft laughter instead.
30
XANDER
“I’ll never know how you do it,” says Fred, up to his elbows in soap.
“Do what?” I ask, running my hands under the water and removing the soap from my forearms.
“Stay single.”
A pulse of heat shoots down my spine. “It’s easy.”
“No, it ain’t,” Fred groans. “Have you seen June?” He kisses the air and sucks on his teeth. “She invited me out for a drink.”
Turning off the tap with my elbow, I reach for the towel rack. “Did you go?”
“Nah.”
“Why not? There’s no conflict of interest there. She’s not in your department. You rarely even cross paths at work.” June’s one of my nurses and Fred is often working up in plastics, something that most claim fits his arrogant personality.
I think the same most days, but other days, I see the true Fred, the days he spends talking to burn patients through their reconstructive surgery and cancer patients through breast augmentation to help get their life back.
