“Hang on.” He pulled out to the tip, then slammed his entire length inside me, so deep I cried out. “Color?” he rasped.
“White,” my voice shook, my body trembled, and my legs wobbled. Now I understood his suggestion to lean into him. I did.
Then he began fucking me. He started slow, dragging his cock out at a torturous pace, before hammering inside me again, forceful and deep. Cries I didn’t recognize fell from my lips until my body began to relax, sucking him in greedily, my stomach tightening with my building orgasm.
“More,” I whispered, finding his eyes in the mirror.
As if that turned him on, his smile was wickedly beautiful before his strokes changed, fucking me harder, faster, and deeper. My eyes rolled, my moans mixing with the sexy growls rumbling out of his chest and vibrating against my back.
Then he readjusted his position, sliding his hand up to my throat, squeezing hard at the same time, hiking my knee further up and anchoring my leg higher. I looked like a ballerina attempting a leg lift. My cry, however, was nowhere near as graceful as the new angle stretched me, allowing him to go deeper and hit a spot that brought an instant tremble to my legs. Pleasure raced down my spine, pooling at the base and nearly blinding me with ecstasy. I closed my eyes, breathing deeper.
“Eyes on me, love,” he demanded, his voice raw with hunger. “Watch me fuck you.”
And I did. I watched this breathtaking man bend my body to his will, take me beyond my limit, push my boundaries, mark me, and command my reactions, yet never with pain, only pleasure. He gave as much as he took, if not more. My orgasm fell quickly, blinding me for a second, my head falling to his shoulder in shaky whimpers.
He squeezed our intertwined hands on the mirror. “Word, love?”
It took a moment to find my voice. “White,” I breathed out.
“Good girl,” he praised, kissing my head.
He fucked me for so long that I couldn’t tell when the first climax began, and the last one ended as they rolled in one after the other. Then he pulled out, dropped my leg, and turned me around.
“Are you okay, Ella?” he cupped my chin, kissing me softly.
God, the man wasn’t even out of breath. “Splendid,” I moaned to his soft laugh.
Just when I thought I could breathe again, he stole the air to my lungs by hooking his arms under my thighs, easily lifted, and stretched me wide open, plunging his cock deep.
“Oh, God,” I mewled before his lips closed over mine in a scorching kiss.
Then he hammered into me, the sound of slick flesh filling the air, and with each thrust, throaty groans rumbled out his chest. I heard the mirror shudder from how hard he was driving into me and wondered if it would crack until another vision distracted me. My eyes on the mirror behind him, I admired his tall frame, taking in his thrusting hips, powerful taut thighs, tight arse clenched from the force of his strokes, and sculptured back. Glazed eyes, cupped by glowing cheeks, stared back at me. God, we were beautiful together.
When he readjusted his position, holding me up with just one arm while his free hand fell to my clit, another orgasm blasted through me. This one, though, I couldn’t take. Shuddering uncontrollably, I dropped my brow to his chest, my limp body sagging against his, his arm taking the brunt of my weight while my hands barely held onto his shoulders.
“Ella,” he growled, low and husky, as if on the cusp of his climax.
“White,” I mumbled, even though green filled my head, bounced off my tongue, and begged me to say it. I had to give him his pleasure. Pushing that last ounce of effort into my limbs, I lifted my head, meeting his hooded eyes, cupped his neck with both hands, and let my lips rule his mouth.
That set him off. Two more powerful thrusts before he roared into my mouth, his warm cum flooding my pussy, his body shuddering as he rode out his orgasm until I felt our combined fluids leak down my thighs. With one arm holding my back against the mirror, he leaned his other next to me. We both breathed hard.
“Did I hurt you,” he murmured against my lips.
“No. I want more when I can walk again.”
He let out a guttural laugh. “My pretty little Ella, who fucks like a goddamn queen.” His kiss was slow and drugging. And with that, I knew Xavier Sinclair was no longer my savior. He’d become my Dom, ruling my heart, my head, my pussy, my orgasms, and everything in between.
