And me? I will hopefully be able to remember this as an exciting affair. One that helped me get out of the shell I grew around myself post-Ethan.
“Fuuuuuck,” Xander roars, his cock twitching inside me.
It’s a heady feeling to see him undone like that. And apparently, there is no justice when it comes to him; even his orgasm face is pretty.
He bows his head to my neck, panting before helowers me with care. Cupping my face, he seizes my lips, his tongue exploring gently.
It’s no surprise he knows what he’s doing, his reputation preceding him. And yet his attention is overwhelming and unexpected.
Xander Stone is a generous lover.
He puts me first. And he fucking clearly draws satisfaction from it. It’s addictive. And an addiction is the last thing I need with this man.
That first orgasm rammed through me on a wave of emotions that brought tears. I expected him to run away. Who wants a crying woman in his—technically my—bed? Instead, he kissed my feelings away, without ridiculing me.
If he keeps it up…Just stop thinking, Cora.
“You’re gorgeous when you’ve just been fucked.” He pivots me away from the shower stream.
I laugh. “As romantic as ever.”
Xander lathers his hands and starts washing me. “I might not be a poet, but the fact remains…” He soaps up my back, his touch gentle and attentive. “This back is a piece of art. These tits…” He steps closer and washes my chest, his fingers flicking over my nipples. I arch into him.
“They are masterpieces.” He moves his hands down to my hips and ass, lathering my skin. “Works of beauty.”
It’s the reverence in his voice that breaks me. I swallow around the lump in my throat, hoping the tears will stay hidden this time. I really don’t want to cry from sheer joy twice in front of him.
“And this pussy…” He sinks to his knees and kisses me between my legs before he looks up at me.
The sight is striking. Xander Stone worships with his entire being, and I’m the lucky object of his affection. Pure bliss.
I swallow again.
“This pussy is the holy fucking grail.” He slaps my ass gently, winking as he stands up and starts washing himself.
And just like that, he’s played every one of my strings—pulling until I am taut—only to ease the tension with a well-timed tease, lifting the heaviness like he knew exactly when I needed some air.
I squirt some body wash into my hands and lather his chest. “Let me.”
My hands roam over his skin, and if I’m honest, it’s for my benefit as much as his. The bulges and valleys of his body are a study in contrast—hard muscle beneath smooth, heated skin.
Every inch of him feels sculpted, carved from determination and ego, and just enough recklessness to make it thrilling.
He’s solid in a way that makes me feel unsteady.My fingers trace the deep line between his pecs, slide down over his abs, and I swear his skin pulses beneath my touch.
He’s all tension and heat and restrained power. Like something barely leashed. And yet he’s letting me touch him like this—slowly, reverently—as if he’s mine to explore.
And maybe that’s the most dangerous part.
“Careful there, Coraline, that was our last condom,” he rasps, raking his fingers through my hair and pulling me in for a kiss.
I hum into his mouth. “I guess we will have to go buy more.”
He squeezes my ass. “Go?”
“Yes, I need to get some nasal spray, or we won’t be able to use those condoms. I can barely breathe.” I turn the water off.
Xander reaches for a towel and hits his elbow. “This shower is the worst offense to humanity. This whole closet of a bathroom is.”
