by Naima Simone
She stroked his clenched jaw and stubble the sharpest razor couldn’t remove grazed her knuckles.
“Your turn?” he questioned, his voice a low rumble in the still glen.
“To ask about you,” she explained.
With a sigh of delight, she thrust her fingers under the bound tail of hair at his neck and cupped his scalp. The black fan of his lashes flickered, but his eyes didn’t close. His faint hiss smacked of approval, not distress.
“You have beautiful hair, Xavier. I remember being so jealous of it. It didn’t seem fair God gave you—a man—such thick, gorgeous manageable hair while cursing me with the wild mop I had—have.”
A corner of his full lips quirked at her disgruntled complaint.
“I’ve always loved your hair,” he murmured.
Lord. She gasped, her eyes almost rolling to the back of her head as he twisted a handful in a gentle but firm grip. He’d tugged on the curls in the same manner when kissing her. Who would’ve guessed nerves in the scalp were connected to the clit? A little-known medical mystery.
“I used to have fantasies about it. About fisting a handful of your curls around my cock and fucking your hair.” A self-deprecating smile curved his mouth. “Depraved, isn’t it?”
Hot. Erotic. Orgasmic. But no, not depraved. “You never let on…” She swallowed in an attempt to wet her mouth which had gone dry as the Sahara. “When?”
Xavier dropped his hand and the suddenness of the action left her alone, bereft. As if she’d been abruptly shoved into the freezing cold after warming herself in front of a comforting, lovely fire. His gaze—which had burned with desire—cooled. A door had slammed in his head, locking her out of his thoughts. “Long past the time I should’ve.”
“What does that—”
“What did you want to ask me?”
She snapped her mouth shut, the questions trapped. For a long second, they examined each other, the past sandwiched between them like a fucked-up ménage.
Finally, she flexed her fingertips against his head. “Why do you wear your hair tied back? I haven’t seen it loose except for last night…”
She sucked in a hard breath.
Held it.
All sound in the glade fell away until an unnatural, thick silence reigned. Nothing moved. Not the soaring birds. Not the gurgling brook. Not Xavier.
Her throat burned from the lack of oxygen. But it couldn’t compare to the utter agony in his eyes. Jesus. Air exploded from her lungs and she snatched her hand from his hair and cradled it in her other palm. No one should hurt like that.
“Never mind.” She shook her head. “You don’t have—”
“I’m a monster,” he said. And she could have wept at the conviction in the stark statement. “This way no one forgets.” If possible, his features tautened even more. “Do you know why Evelyn and I broke up?” He released a humorless bark of laughter. “I walked in on her having sex with another man. And still I didn’t have the balls to end our relationship. She did. Because she couldn’t stand to look at me. Apparently pulling my hair forward to hide my face while we fucked wasn’t cutting it any longer.”
* * * * *
Xavier bit back a curse and told himself to shut the fuck up. Especially when a bright sheen dampened her brown gaze. He jerked his head away from the sight of her pity and squeezed his eyes shut. Joy, laughter, passion—those were the emotions he loved to see light her lovely face. He even preferred anger to pity.
For a short precious while the acidic bitterness he’d existed with for a year had loosened its hold. After last night, he’d been stupid as shit to surrender to the tentative fantasy that the hurt, shame and anger were in the past, burned away by the welcoming heat of Gwendolyn’s arms and body.
When she’d kissed each of his scars with gentle tenderness, he’d gritted his teeth and tightened his jaw. At first he’d wanted to rip free of his binds and shove her away. He hadn’t wanted to be reminded of the network of puckered flesh marring his chest and abdomen. But with each pass of her lips, his body had hardened and his heart—his soul—had softened.
She’d accomplished the impossible.
She’d made him forget.
But now, as the old emotions of pain, rejection and loneliness returned like a millstone around his neck, truth slapped him in the face with the clarity of an ice-cold bucket of water.
Gwendolyn might—might—be able to look past his disfigurement, but no one else would. Evelyn hadn’t managed it. And while he may be capable of coming to grips with and accepting that realization, a very ugly, cowardly fear still remained burrowed deep within his psyche. Would the day arrive when Gwendolyn regretted having him by her side? When she would be ashamed to walk next to him in public where people pointed and whispered? The thought of her regret—her shame—he couldn’t abide.
Nor could he allow the intimacy of the past two nights to blind him to the reason she stood in this place with him. He’d blackmailed her. Yes, she cared about him but affection and love weren’t the same things. And in this idyllic setting, away from the outside world, he could so easily delude himself into pretending they were identical.
Evelyn had taught him the harsh lesson of believing in fairy tales.
“That bitch.”
The furious growl startled him. He swung his head back to stare down at Gwendolyn’s infuriated features. Her eyebrows formed a deep vee and the sensual curve of her mouth had flattened into an angry slash.
“That disloyal, traitorous bitch.”
He shrugged. “Could you really blame—”
“Stop it.”
He snapped his jaw shut, shocked into speechlessness by her vehemence.
“What, Xavier? Because of one heartless woman—and I use the term ‘woman’ lightly—you use your face as some kind of ‘I’ll fuck you before you fuck me’?” She thumped a balled fist into his chest. “How dare you.”
Stunned, he couldn’t respond to the accusation or the language. What the hell was she talking about?
“I don’t give a damn about your ex or your friends.” She sneered the word, her disgust telegraphing her opinion of those he once called by the same name. “How they react out of their petty shallowness is their shame, not yours. What pisses me off is how you wield your appearance like some kind of weapon to prove to them their cruelty doesn’t hurt. When it clearly does. Don’t deny it,” she snapped, glaring at him when he parted his lips.
“Xavier.” The ferocity suffusing her face bled away. Gwendolyn shifted forward, cupped his cheek and swept a thumb over his damaged skin. The caress rocked him, cauterized the bleeding wound in his soul. He shuddered.
“Xavier,” she repeated and he opened eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed. “No, you’re not perfect anymore. And I thank God for it.” Her voice cracked then steadied. “I love this scar. It means you survived. You’re alive and here with me. You could be—”
“Baby,” he murmured and dragged her into his arms. The fresh, vanilla scent of her shampoo surrounded him as he buried his face in her light curls. Her arms encircled his torso and squeezed so hard his ribs bleated a faint objection.
Shame again assailed him. But this time he attributed the guilt to his selfishness and ingratitude. Since the accident, he’d railed at God for leaving him in such a broken, lonely state. His resentment had colored every aspect of a life he used to enjoy. Even after the grief of his father’s death passed, his anger had never extinguished.
Gwendolyn’s compassion and honesty revealed who he’d become. Someone so consumed with all he’d lost he’d never appreciated everything he still had. Someone so embittered he’d measured his value by others’ opinions and on something as shallow and fleeting as appearance. Someone so cold he’d extorted the body of a woman who would have freely given him her friendship.
Someone his father would have been ashamed of.
“I’m so sorry,” he rasped, unsure if he apologized to her or the man who had taught him the meaning of manhood and int
egrity.
She tightened her embrace. The wild curls he adored brushed his chin and cheek as she tipped her head back to search his face. “Prove it,” she whispered.
Xavier released her. Inhaled. And lifted his arms behind his head. In seconds, he freed his hair from the rubber band. He didn’t miss the slight widening of her eyes or the wonder that entered their chocolate-brown depths as the heavy strands fell forward to frame his face.
Her delight scoured away the last of his doubt and trepidation. Damn if he didn’t want to preen under her blatant admiration.
She rose on tiptoe and pressed soft, full lips to his. He captured her mouth and slanted his head to bury his tongue deeper. Her sweetness sucked him under and like a drug addict after his first hit, he would always chase this woman for more of her special, addictive taste.
He tore his mouth away and slicked his tongue across his bottom lip, savoring her flavor. A groan rumbled from his throat. How could he want this much?
“Turn around, baby,” he ordered, gripping her waist. Without the slightest hesitation, she complied and allowed him to guide her to one of the towering trees filling the grove. After flattening her hands on the thick trunk, he covered her hands with his and lowered his head to nuzzle the curve of her ear.
“So beautiful,” he said and nipped the earlobe. “So strong.” A kiss to the skin behind her ear. “So generous.”
“Xavier.” She shivered.
“Shhh… I have you.” Her jacket didn’t prove a barrier as he slid his hands up her arms, down the sides of her body and under her shirt. His cock jerked in his pants as he cradled her full breasts. She shuddered in his arms, a sharp cry breaking free as he pinched the stiff nipples.
Her hips bucked and he ground his dick into the sweet curves of her jeans-covered ass. Shit, he needed inside her. Bad.
He swept a hand down her stomach. The firm muscles contracted under his touch and her gasp echoed in the quiet glade. In seconds, he’d loosened the button, lowered the zipper and found heaven.
“Oh fuck,” he growled. “You’re so wet, baby.” He dragged two fingers through the smooth folds until he encountered the engorged bundle of nerves crowning the top of her sex. “I’ll never get tired of feeling you cream for me.”
Placing an open-mouthed kiss to the underside of her jaw, he razed her skin with his teeth as he circled her clit with damp fingers. Over and over, he teased and stroked the swollen button, drawing more erotic cries from her throat. He released his hold on her breast, shoved her jeans and panties down her hips and thrust two fingers in her rippling pussy.
“Oh God, please,” she pleaded, her back arching. She curled her fingers against the bark of the tree.
“Dammit, Gwendolyn,” he whispered, “you’re so tight, so hot.” The strong walls of her sex clamped down on his fingers and milked them as if they were his cock. His breath labored in his chest and, as he withdrew and drove back inside the snug channel, his cock throbbed, his balls drew tight and the base of his spine tingled with impending release.
A broken sob escaped her lips and she quaked in his embrace. Every grind of her hips as she rode his fingers and each “please” she whispered were like gifts. No woman had ever responded to his touch like Gwendolyn did. Even before the accident had ripped his face open. Not even Evelyn had unraveled with such uninhibited pleasure as this woman pleading for him to make her come. Her abandon was every bit as sexy as her mouth on his cock. Maybe more.
“I have you, baby.” He pressed another kiss to her jaw and neck. “Come for me. Hard. Don’t hold anything back,” he demanded and plied her clit with firm passes of his thumb. Her pussy received short, steady thrusts and her hips quickened, following the rhythm he set. Her constant litany of cries incited his pace and lust. “That’s it, baby. Fuck my fingers.” He murmured his approval as Gwendolyn spread her slim thighs and rode his hand with abrupt, rough rolls.
Her sex coated his fingers in her essence. That’s what he wanted. What he needed. Muttering a harsh curse, he executed a rapid succession of firm strokes to her clit with the pad of his thumb and plunged his fingers deep into her spasming vise of a pussy.
Gwendolyn quaked in his embrace, climaxing with a scream that echoed in the air. And he loved it.
“Take it, baby,” he urged, strumming her clit and thrusting faster into the milking channel. “Don’t stop, Gwendolyn. Take every bit of it.” For several long moments, she convulsed in his arms, riding out the storm until only small shudders and whimpers remained.
With a raw moan, he removed his touch from her quivering flesh and lifted his fingers to his lips. The last thing he wanted was to abandon her pussy, but the need to taste what he’d fingered rode him just as hard. Sliding the damp digits deep into his mouth, he sucked her juice clean.
As she sagged in his arms, Xavier encircled her hips with an arm to hold her up. His cock demanded release. He was almost crazed with it.
He shifted her body and guided her hips farther back. With a hard tug, he pulled her jeans lower and then pushed her legs wider apart. Her beautiful, round ass kept a stranglehold on his attention. In several hasty movements he attacked the zipper of his pants and freed his aching cock. The rigid length pulsed in his fist. Shifting forward, he gripped her hip and pressed the swollen cock head to her shadowed cleft and slowly—savoring the initial sensation of flesh against flesh—surged upward into her pussy.
Her ass cheeks parted with the thrust of his dick and surrounded his hard flesh. Oh fuck. Lust grabbed his balls and squeezed, shoving him closer to the edge of orgasm. Gwendolyn whimpered and circled her hips, stroking his cock. He tightened his grip on her hip and she complied with the unspoken command, bowing deeper at the waist.
“God yes, baby,” he whispered. He bent his knees, drew back then thrust forward into the sweetest, hottest fist of flesh. He groaned, bent over Gwendolyn and pressed his forehead into her shoulder blade. Her tight sheath created a perfect, heated glove for his cock. One day he wanted her breasts like this. He withdrew and thrust forward again. Except on the upstroke, she would fit her plump lips around his head and suck the spill of his cum. The thought caused his hips to jerk harder, piston faster, his cock to sink deeper.
Sounds of sex filled the air. The slap of flesh against flesh. The soft cries and harsh groans. The wet suction and release as his cock fucked her pussy.
“Oh God,” she sobbed. “Xavier, please.”
His breath burned his chest and throat. Sweat prickled under his arms and at the back of his neck. The base of his spine tingled and his balls tightened as release threatened to steal his mind. Together. He thrust his dick into her pussy. We’ll do this together. Dipped a hand between her legs and pressed his thumb to her clit. Hard.
For the second time, Gwendolyn came apart in his arms.
“Fuck,” he rasped and her accompanying moan contained all the need and lust raging inside him.
He jerked back, reached inside his jacket pocket, snatched a tissue free and covered his cock head while stroking the hard length. An animalistic growl rumbled from his chest, catching him by surprise as the first jet of semen erupted from his dick. Raw and primal, the power of the orgasm reduced him to single-syllable swear words and grunts of ecstasy.
As the last shudder eased over his body, he closed his eyes and turned his head. His cheek rested against her shoulder. He breathed her in.
God, it didn’t get any better than this.
“Take me home.”
He stood corrected.
Take me home. The words echoed in his head as he and Gwendolyn cleaned up and readjusted their clothing. They vibrated through him the short ride back to the house. Even if the words had been a slip of the tongue or a turn of phrase, she’d thought of his house as “home”.
Hope he hadn’t allowed to take root sprouted in his heart. And for the first time, he didn’t strike it back down.
They hurried through cooling Marian down, brushing her free of any dirt and tangles, and stored the
riding gear against the rear wall of the stable. Gwendolyn appeared as eager as he to finish the task and continue what they’d shared in the quiet glade. To reinforce the small bridge of trust and healing they had erected.
Hell, he just wanted her like a fat kid wanted cake.
His lips quirked. Not exactly romantic, but damn, he couldn’t wait to lick every inch of her coffee-and-cream skin. He wanted to gorge himself on her again and then go back for another round.
Again with the gluttony analogies.
Xavier glanced down at her as they climbed the shallow steps to the porch and approached the front door. As she reached for the handle, he covered her hand with his. She paused and, glancing up, arched an eyebrow. He didn’t immediately respond to the silent question, but instead brushed her temple with a light kiss.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. The words had swelled in his chest and spilled out before he realized the intent to utter them.
Her forehead crinkled with a frown. “Okay,” she agreed, then paused. “What am I forgiving you for?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Most people would ask the question first.” His smile fell away and he grazed the backs of his fingers over the delicate line of her jaw. “For hurting you. Never have I thought of you as less than the beautiful, proud, giving woman you are. But I know my actions didn’t express that. I disrespected you out of my own insecurity and bitterness because I didn’t believe you could possibly want me. I regret my fucking bargain now. More than you know.”
“I don’t.”
He stiffened, certain he’d heard wrong. She faced him and tilted her head back to meet his eyes. The tenderness in her brown gaze set his heart beating in a pounding, deafening rhythm.
“Every feverish hour spent driving here, every hurt feeling, every urge to drop-kick you,” she smiled at his snort, “was worth your ‘fucking bargain’. If it brought me to this moment with you, I’d do it over again in a heartbeat.”
