The answering sigh was indulgent. “I was searching for a more romantic term. But yes, that was the totality of the question.”
“I had thought you, inside me, I mean.” His eyes widened in surprise. “But if you had other ideas I would not be opposed to?—”
“No, I— No, it’s perfect. I just thought you would prefer the other way around.”
“Is it wrong? To?—”
“No,” he insisted. “Nothing we do in here is wrong. Not ever.”
I nodded, distracting myself by pulling his shirt over his head and dragging his lips back to mine. I’d grown to love the feel of his chest pressed against my own and tonight was no different. The sensation of coarse hair catching mine had shudders traveling down my spine.
When he pushed me back to collapse onto the bed, the shudders became a groan. Xander found my boot with both hands, tugging off first one, then the other. His soft chuckle when the second came off had my brow furrowing in confusion.
“What?”
“Your stockings.”
“What about them?”
“They don’t match.” My laughter joined his.
“I cannot tell the difference. You know that.”
“Trust me, I know. I have to look at your waistcoats all day long.”
“What?”
“Oh, yes, they’re wretched,” he explained, working the buttons on my breeches. “I’ll be selecting them from now on. Consider it one of the ramifications.”
He nodded at me to lift up at the waist and pulled my breeches and stockings free. Eagerly, I set to work on his.
“Such a hardship,” I muttered, as though the real hardship was not that it had been days since I’d had the hard cock in front of me in my mouth—a hardship I immediately rectified.
Xander encouraged my attentions with a groan, carding a hand through my hair in that way he knew I liked. “Look at you…” he breathed. “You look so pretty like this.”
My moan had his fingers tightening before he pulled me off with an obscene pop. “Get in the center of the bed,” he grumbled, low and graveled.
I scrambled back to follow his instructions, stacking pillows behind my head. It was a luxury, stretching out along a bed. Soft mattresses and new linens welcomed me. And when Xander, now freed from the trappings of his breeches, fell atop me with an eager kiss, it felt like heaven.
We rutted against each other in an inelegant but overwhelming heap of flesh and moans.
“Are you certain?” he whispered against my neck.
“I’ve always been certain about you.”
I felt his eyes squeeze shut against the corner of my neck and shoulder and cradled the back of his head there for a moment. Tenderness washed over me, swirling with the lust.
“All right, that was the last beautiful, sentimental thing you’re allowed to say tonight. Otherwise, I might die.”
“Of course,” I laughed. “Absolute filth from now on. Now fuck me, please.”
Xander’s answer was half groan, half chuckle. “So polite.” He leaned over me, reaching for a chest that was functioning as a side table. “Questions before we begin? Concerns?” He snatched a small glass bottle and a handkerchief off the top. My stomach clenched in understanding at the sight.
“Yes, how long before you cease with the stalling and we begin the fucking?”
“Ugh, you are far too coherent. And impertinent.” Amid his complaints, he pulled the decorative glass stopper from the bottle. It was a pretty thing, molded and etched into an elaborate pattern I couldn’t make out. It was so absurdly Xander, selecting a beautiful bottle for this. He loved beautiful things. He loved me.
With slick, light fingers, he traced the lines of my cock. “That is not where that goes,” I pointed out helpfully.
