by Logan Chance
I pull back, pushing my fingers in deeper.
“Xavier…” she pants, her voice trailing off.
“Do you want me?” I ask.
Her big brown eyes search mine. “Yes. More than anything.”
I plunge even deeper inside her, and she crumbles around me. I kiss her. I kiss her hard and rough. There’s nothing I want more right now.
Her orgasm spirals throughout her body as I suck her tongue into my mouth.
“You feel so good.”
The aftershock of her orgasm slams through her. Tiny tremors clench my fingers. When her body calms, I free her hands and she pushes me away. Regret settles in her eyes, and she scoots off the counter.
“That was probably a bad idea.“
I cross my arms, watching her snatch up her clothes and dress. “Why?”
The irony I'm now asking ‘why’ isn't lost on me.
“Because I care about you.” A feeling I’ve fought for so long spreads through my chest. “I’ve known you my whole life,” she continues. “We were friends once.” She stands with her hand on her hip, eyes on fire.
“We still are,” I say, lifting her over my shoulder and once again carrying her caveman style. This time, to my bedroom.
25
Rhiannon
Feelings I locked away, fight their way free.
He’s dangerous. Someone I should run away from and never look back. Not because of his power or his dabbling in my human trafficking, because he has a hold on my heart that will never be released.
He sets me down in his master suite, and I take a mini tour with my eyes. Sleek black furniture, flat screen tv, vibrant splashes of red on the white walls. The one thing I can’t stop focusing on is the massive four poster bed. Fit for a King.
I gulp.
He moves toward me, reaches his hands into my hair and pulls my lips to meet his. And then it’s so good as he kisses me like he owns me. It’s a feeling I don’t want to stop.
“I could kiss you all night,” he says.
And I could kiss him all night too.
And I want to.
He moves me further toward the bed, his tongue tracing down the column of my throat, into the dip of my collarbone, and then back up to do it all over again.
This all feels insane. Crazy insane.
I’ve dreamt about having Xavier’s hands all over me so many times. And now that it’s happening, it feels better than anything. A kind of better I want to keep going all night long.
His breaths get rougher, his grip on me tightens, and I moan along with him.
An unabashed yearning floods through me at full-force. Desires I’d buried so long ago break the surface, screaming and ripping through me. He makes me feel sexy the way he kisses me all over as if he needs to cover every inch. And it turns me on. So bad.
How could I even pretend I don’t want him? How can I ever want to leave him after this? And when I do, is it so bad to want to have this to take away with me?
The magnitude of his touch is soul-crushing as he kisses me again. His tongue does this little dance with mine, and he presses his rock-hard body against me.
I need to see him naked. I need to see that muscle that forms the sexy V that always tempted me and trail my tongue along to see where it leads. This thought excites me, more than I already am, and I blush a bit.
“Rhi, tell me you want me inside you.”
My words fail me. He’s already inside me, imprinted on my soul.
I almost expect him to throw me on the bed, and ravage me, but he keeps paying reverence to the skin just below my ear, electrifying my senses with his passionate lips.
And then, he moves away from me to sit on the bed, eyes blazing.
Having his mouth on me earlier was too many sensations firing off at once, and I won’t lie, the thought of being his does excite me, but I keep quiet.
“Ah, I see. You don’t like the fact that your body is betraying you. You want me, admit it?”
My body isn't the only thing betraying me. Again, I say nothing.
He holds his hands out, and I instinctively move to stand between his legs. “Let me make you feel good tonight.”
My chest tightens knowing tonight may be all we have.
His hand moves up my leg, madly churning the desire pumping through my veins.
My body is betraying me, and I’m so close to giving Xavier everything he wants. Everything I want.
26
Xavier
Her eyes are heavy with lust already, and I’m sure mine match. Maybe I can fuck the desire to run right out of her.
“You know I can make you feel better than I already have,” I say with a rock-hard dick.
I kiss the fuck out of her as she wraps her arms around me, and she makes this wild, sexy sound that has my dick throbbing with the need to get at her.
“I want you,” she moans.
And then it’s on. I can’t even remember how I get my shorts off and my cock in my hand, pumping and squeezing it.
Her clothes fly off as we move in tandem to the bed, and I rise to my knees, gazing down at such a beautiful sight.
Have you ever been so consumed by desire that you can’t fulfill the urges quick enough? That you’ll die if you don’t get it now?
My mind has left the building, and my cock is running the show. And he wants pussy. Rhiannon’s pussy.
Fuck, I can’t take anymore.
I hover over top of her. “You make me so hard.”
Her eyes are heavy with lust, and I crash my lips to hers. She moans, and her body writhes beneath me.
“Xavier, please,” the words tumble from her lips on a breathy moan.
“Do you need my cock slamming inside you? You want me to fuck that sweet pussy?”
Her nails dig into my back. Fuck that feels so good.
She spreads her legs, and her soft hand grips my dick, pumping it, and it feels so fucking good. “Xavier, please fuck me. Please, I need you so bad.”
I grab a condom and roll it down my hard length. Without waiting another second, I push into her in one passionate thrust.
Ecstasy.
She lets out a thundering cry of passion, and I groan along with her.
And then we’re fucking, and a new type of energy charges through me. It brings me alive, to a higher level, and I bask in the feel of it. In the feel of her.
“Your pussy is so hot.”
She grips my hips, her back arches, and she cries out again, begging louder.
“Is this what you want?” I pound into her.
“Yes.” She moans out long and low, her sculpted legs wrap firmly around me.
“You want to be mine tonight? No one else’s?” I keep pushing.
Her pussy tightens all around me, and she leans her head back. “Yes, only yours.”
My chest constricts at the words I’ve wanted to hear my whole life. Words heavy like an anchor, keeping me in place. “Take this cock deep in your tight, little pussy.” I wrap my other hand around her neck, guiding her face forward just a bit to reach her mouth. I kiss her. And then, I can’t stop kissing her. I want to be fused in every way possible to this girl.
She’s mine. And she wants to be mine.
With her, it’s like I’m able to breathe again for the first time since I left. All those years apart there’s been a black hole inside me, expanding with each passing day.
And with our lips locked, our tongues tangling furiously together, she makes me feel something I can’t comprehend.
I sink further into her heat. She consumes me. Her soft skin encases me in a cocoon.
Her fingernails dig into the base of my scalp as she moans my name and the sound ignites something deep within me. We fit so perfectly together, and her pussy clenching down on my cock is the best feeling. I’m fired up and everything about this is just so intense. It’s never been like this, so on fire, so crazy. The kissing, the touching, the sexy sounds she makes when I fuck her so deep. Like a drug I can’t quit.
“Rhiannon, don’t run from me.”
I pump into her; my sanity can’t take much more.
I touch every part of her skin—her face, her tits, and every place in between—before settling my fingers to circle her clit. She yells out she’s coming, and God, I’m so fucking close to joining her.
My whole-body thrums and pulses feeling her orgasm. All I see when I open my eyes is the gorgeous look of pure ecstasy on her face.
“Xavier,” she says, ever so quietly, meeting my thrusts, “I want to feel you come inside me.”
Fuuuuck. I come and come and can’t stop coming. I really can’t, and she takes it all.
I land on my back, breathing intense, and stare at the ceiling.
“That was amazing,” she wisps out.
“Yeah, you're amazing,” I answer, dazed from the intensity of just how fucking amazing it was.
I head to the en suite bathroom to clean up, and when I return, she’s already asleep. And then I do something I’ve never done before in my life: I pull back the covers and climb in behind her, wrapping her into my chest.
All the years of being unable to sleep, I pass right out.
The next morning the air feels a little different on my skin. The light of the sun streaming into the room looks brighter. Every little thing about today feels different somehow.
I’m back to my teenage years, my hormones in overdrive as I snuggle closer to Rhiannon, not wanting to ruin this moment yet.
She moans a little in her sleep and scoots her ass back, lining it up perfectly with my morning wood.
My arm wraps tighter around her, and she runs her fingers over my skin.
Then reality beats its way between us. What the fuck am I doing lying in a bed with Rhiannon wrapped in my arms? “Get dressed,” I say, flipping the covers off and crossing to the bathroom. I slam the door to escape the feelings swirling like an F5 tornado in my bedroom, obliterating everything.
I can’t lose focus here. As spectacular as it fucking was, I need to make sure that shit doesn’t happen again.
I’m in a very bad mood. You know the kind: a dull headache pressing at your temples, your body feels like glue is traveling through your veins instead of blood, and your head is high from the fumes of that glue. Yes, that’s how I feel. It's like I was hit by a speeding train and left to die a lonely death on the tracks.
But not Rhiannon. No, she flits through the house like a hummingbird—small and energetic—right into the kitchen, with her ass swinging from side to side, to prepare breakfast.
“You know I have someone I can call to make that,” I say, pointing to the eggs she cracks in the skillet.
“I don’t mind.” Her voice is so chipper, it lightens my mood for about half a second.
“Hmm, ok.”
She scrambles the eggs and throws bread in the toaster. And I focus in on her ass the whole time. Hey, I like to appreciate the view like any other red-blooded male, but hers is better, because I know I’ve had it in my hands. I’ve spanked it, bit it, squeezed it, and claimed it. It’s mine. Watching her float through the kitchen, my kitchen, makes me believe it's true.
“Hope you’re hungry,” she calls out to my filthy mind. “Where is everyone?”
I shrug. “I sent them all home last night.”
She smiles, and I narrow my eyes.
“Don’t even think about running.” She stops fluttering about and rests the spatula on her shoulder. “Although, I kinda liked the punishment.”
One track, stay focused. Don’t let her ass deter you from your mission.
Anything I say to myself falls on deaf ears when she leans in to grab two Evian bottles of water from the fridge. Her heart-shaped ass calls to me, and I move from the stool and smack it.
“Ow, what was that for?” She’s smiling, so I know I didn’t smack her too hard. Although I wanted to. Not really. I don’t know. I’m in a bad mood.
“It was there and,” I shrug, “in need of manhandling.”
She swats a kitchen towel at me, and I side-step it.
“I have some meetings today.”
She grabs two plates from the cabinet. “Oh, ok. I have some new ideas for some cards.”
This is all very domesticated—very personal—and it makes me uneasy. We eat together as my mind replays last night over and over in my head. What was I thinking?
She heads off to her room the moment my security detail has arrived for the day.
I step in my office, lock the door, and grab my phone.
“Ian Bingham,” he answers on the second ring.
“You did what?” Dean arches a brow at me.
“You heard me. I called Ian.” I lean back against the leather sofa.
“Do I need to remind you how you’re the stickler for plans, and now you’re going off script?” He crosses the length of my study and spins the Diplomat floor globe in its mahogany cradle. “You hear about those Flat-Earthers going around saying the Earth isn’t round?”
I laugh. “Yeah, some big government conspiracy. Maybe Ian’s in on it.”
He spins the globe again. “What did he say?”
“He was pissed,” I smirk, remembering how he whispered the curse words as he simultaneously ordered a mocha skinny latte, “but he agreed to hear me out.”
He moves to the armchair across from me and takes a seat. “So, why the sudden need to talk to Ian?”
“I wanted to see how deep his loyalties lie. Would he take more money for his campaign to drop marrying Rhiannon, or is that a deal breaker for him?”
He lifts a brow. “What’d he say?” His gray eyes focus on me as he waits for my answer.
“Of course, he entertained the idea of more money, but he’s loyal to that fucking prick. Says his dad and Al DeLaurio go way back.”
Dean runs a hand over his jaw, deep in thought. “What did he say about DeLaurio? Any clue as to where or why we have her?”
I laugh. “Ah, it’s we now, is it?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s we. I’m not letting you go down for this if shit goes wrong.”
“It won’t go wrong. Have a little faith.”
“Ian say anything else?”
I nod. “Our flushing out is working well. DeLaurio is in LA, but I already told Ian not to bother and told him our next destination.”
“Did he think you were lying?”
I shrug. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“How’s Rhiannon?”
I shift in my seat. “She’s fine,” I clip out. I’ve avoided Rhiannon all day, not checking on her at all. For all I know, she could have escaped again.
“You sure?” The look on his face says he knows something, but I won’t lead on that anything has happened. It was a one-time ordeal. It won’t happen again.
I could sit here all night long and beat myself up for having sex with her, but I won’t. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”
He stands. “Just be careful with her.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Sure. I’m going back to work.”
When he leaves, a fucked up thought hits me. She’ll be gone soon, so maybe I should enjoy the sweet feel of her while I can. Does that make me an asshole? If it does, then brand it on my chest, because, honestly, I don’t think I can quit her now that I’ve been deep inside her.
27
Rhiannon
I should be ashamed. But, I'm not. Any silly fantasy I’ve ever had as a kid about Xavier was outdone by the real deal. Hell, any sexual experience I’ve ever had in my life has been outdone.
It deserves a shrine. He deserves a shrine. Or a church for people to come and worship him daily. I would attend, every damn day.
Clearly, I need an exorcism. My feelings for Xavier swirl in confusion. If everyone is going to use me, then why can't I get something from it? But that's a lie I tell myself to make me feel better, because today when he treated me like I had the plague, it hurt. I almost made him a card that said, ‘Thanks
for the screw,’ but instead I’ve moped.
Feeling defeated, I drop down in the oversized armchair that's become my very own chestnut tree to sit and think instead of clawing my way through these walls. I mean, what do I think the outcome is going to be here? My magical hooha is going to erase years of hatred, and he's suddenly going to realize he's the real prisoner here, shutting himself off from anything but revenge.
No, the chances of that happening are as slim as snow in Florida. This situation is so bizarre; one minute he’s doing nice things, and the next I’m trying to escape.
Which, I still plan on. Even though Xavier thinks he’s devised some brilliant plan, I’m not sure he really knows who he’s dealing with. And not just my father—Ian. Saint Ian, that’s what I like to call him. He sure has the wool pulled over everyone’s eyes. He gives to charity, acts like the nicest man around, praising and sharing himself, but behind closed doors he’s sabotaging those very people he acts like he helps.
It’s disgusting.
Although, if Ian’s a saint, then my father’s the pope. Everyone bowing down to kiss his gaudy pinky ring.
A knock sounds at the door, and I sink back further in my chair, wanting to disappear into the soft fabric.
“I’m here to help make you even more beautiful,” Krista’s sweet voice sounds through the room. “Xavier says to wear the blue gown tonight.”
“I guess he forgot to mention he had another event he needed to use me at.” I prop my head in my hand, not wanting to leave this chair, and tuck my legs under me, sighing heavily.
She stops in front of me and takes a seat on the ottoman.
“Listen,” her voice drops to a whisper, “I’m not going to make excuses for him or pretend I know what's going on, but you can't give up.” She leans in a little closer. “I see the way he looks at you. You are more to him than you realize. Do what you need to do.”
I want to believe her. I don’t want to be this droopy-owled naive girl who lusts after her captor.
The escape attempts aren’t working, so maybe it’s time for a new tactic. A new challenge. Maybe, and it's a big maybe, I can seduce the truth out of him.
