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You want me to stop?`
Xavier’s shadow loomed in the dim corridor, his father’s words still echoing in his mind, a cacophony of disappointment and old money. His footsteps, heavy with the weight of legacy, carried him away, past the portraits of stern ancestors, to the sanctuary of his childhood room-his escape from the man he was expected to be.
Silence greeted him but for the soft breaths of his little moonbeam, Bella’s chest rising and falling in the tranquil rhythm of sleep. A sliver of moonlight caressed her face, painting her in ethereal strokes of silver and shadow. Xavier stood there, a moment suspended, watching the little girl, who had become both his torment and obsession, just like her mother.
The distant sound of water shattered the stillness, pulling him from his reverie. He shed his clothes, the fabric slipping from his skin like discarded restraints, leaving him in nothing but his underwear-a man unmasked. The tiles were cold against his feet as he approached the bathroom, the mist from the shower kissing his skin with warm promises.
He reached out, his fingers wrapping around the shower handle, slick with condensation. With a deliberate motion, he pulled it open and stepped inside the steam-filled chamber.
Cathleen’s silhouette was a vision through the fog, her curves an invitation, her skin an allure. She turned, startled by the intrusion, her eyes wide with surprise that quickly narrowed into recognition.
“Xav-” Her words were cut short as he closed the distance between them.
His lips met hers with an urgency that brooked no debate, claiming her mouth with a fervor that spoke of raw need. Cathleen’s initial gasp morphed into a moan, her body betraying her intention to resist.
“Xavier…” she breathed against him, her hands pressing against his chest in a futile attempt to push him away. But he was relentless; his hunger for her had been denied for far too long.
“Stop,” she managed, but her voice lacked conviction, drowned out by the drumming of water against tile and against the skin.
“Never,” he growled back, his hands firm on her, owning her. He pressed her against him, sealing their bodies together as if they could merge into one entity. His hand encircled her throat, not squeezing, just holding-a dark promise, a silent command.
“Mine,” Xavier declared, his tone a mix of possession and something else-something desperate.
Cathleen tried to speak, to argue, but his tongue invaded her mouth, silencing her protests with a dance that was all dominance and heat. He demanded, and she yielded, their tongues warring in a battle where both sought victory but neither would truly win.
“Let me…” she started, her voice half-lost beneath the cascade of water.
“Let you what?” Xavier challenged, his hand tightening ever so slightly, a reminder of who dictated this dance.
“Nothing,” she capitulated, her body melting into his, her will succumbing to the onslaught of his passion.
The bathroom faded, and the world outside ceased to exist. There were only Xavier and Cathleen, locked in a heated embrace, the water enveloping them as they surrendered to the tempest of their union.
Xavier’s grip was ironic and unyielding. Twisting her with ease, he slammed Cathleen against the shower glass, steamed and foggy. Her breath hitched, a fogged ghost on the pane.
“Xavier,” she gasped, her voice weak but laced with an edge that begged defiance.
His response was nonverbal-a sharp crack against her wet skin. Cathleen’s body jerked, her ass stinging from the spank, a flare of pain igniting her senses. Cheeks aflame, the sound echoed off tiles, mingling with the hiss of water.
“Again,” he said, voice low and husky-a command wrapped in velvet darkness.
She bit back a cry as another hit landed, her core tightening, empty, and aching. Xavier groaned, deep and guttural, as if her reaction fed some primal part of him. His hand groped possessively, fingers digging into flesh, marking her as his toy, his object of desire.
Eyes squeezed shut, Cathleen surrendered to sensation-the blend of pleasure and pain that only he could draw from her depths. When the final spank came, sharper and more punishing, her gasp served as an invitation-he drove his cock into her without hesitation.
“Ah!” The exhalation was half-moan, half-shock, her body yielding to the intrusion, welcoming the fullness.
“Good girl,” Xavier murmured, each word punctuated by a thrust-deep, forceful, claiming.
Cathleen’s world narrowed to the collision of bodies and the slide of skin on skin. She wanted ropes, restraints-the sweet captivity of being truly his. But now, there was no negotiation, no safe words-only Xavier, raw and dominant.
Her hands scrambled for purchase on the slick shower door, desperate for something to ground her as he fucked her senselessly. Each stroke robbed her of thought and air, leaving only need in its wake.
Lip caught between teeth, she tasted copper, the bite grounding her to the moment. With every inch he pressed inside, her grip on reality slipped, fingers splaying wide against the glass, holding on for dear life.
“More,” she managed, the plea torn from her throat, a whisper amidst the storm of water and desire.
Xavier responded not with words but with his body, relentless, driving into her again and again, until all that existed was them-the heat, the power, the inexorable pull towards oblivion.
His movements became primal and unyielding. His hands clutched at her waist, fingers digging into flesh as he drove into her with a ferocity that bordered on violence. Each thrust jarred Cathleen forward, her palms leaving steamy prints on the glass.
“Xavier,” she gasped out, the intention to scold lost in the deluge of sensation. Her body betrayed her, pleasure spiraling up from where they were joined, obliterating her resolve.
His rhythm never faltered, the sound of skin slapping against skin mingling with the relentless patter of the shower. “You want me to stop?” Xavier’s voice was a growl, thick with desire and edged with something darker.Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.
“No, fuck me.” The words spilled from her lips, raw and honest. She surrendered to the onslaught, her body accepting him fully, each stroke stoking the fire within.
“Fuck!” Xavier’s curse was a guttural sound, filled with the tension of impending release.
The pace quickened, frenzied, desperate. He fucked her like it was their last time-as if the world outside this steam-filled sanctuary didn’t exist. Cathleen’s senses blurred, and every nerve ending was screaming for release.
Then it came-a white-hot rush seized her, wringing screams from her throat as her body convulsed under the weight of her orgasm.
“Xavier,” she screamed his name, a mantra amidst the chaos of her climax.
He grunted, his own climax cresting, and with a final, shuddering thrust, he emptied himself inside her. Panting, he spun her around, urgency etched in every line of his body. Their lips crashed together in a messy, fervent collision.
“I fucking love you, Cat. Please live for me.” His words, ragged and unexpected, hung between them.
Cathleen, still trembling from the aftershocks, locked eyes with him. Surprise flickered across her features, a spark of vulnerability in her usually steely gaze. The declaration, so at odds with their tumultuous existence, left her breathless once more.
What does he mean, live for me? She thought