POV Norah
Xander didn’t touch me at first. He just hovered there, heat radiating off his body, his breath teasing my lips, like he wanted to see how long it would take before I snapped.
His eyes pinned me, sharp and dangerous, and my pulse jumped under his stare.
“Are you ready to lose?”
His whisper was rough, a challenge laced with promise.
My voice came out thinner than I wanted. “Try me.”
Something dark unfurled behind his gaze, the split second before a storm tears the sky open. Then his mouth was on mine. Not gentle. Not slow.
It was violent in its hunger, salt and heat and the taste of whiskey on his tongue.
I gasped, and he swallowed the sound whole, claiming it like it belonged to him. His hand clamped hard on my waist, pulling me against him until there was no space left, until my body bent into his without choice.
“Xander,” I breathed against his mouth, broken.
“Norah,” he growled, like a vow and a curse.
The chair screeched back, wood on tile. He grabbed my hips and lifted me like I was nothing, setting me on the edge of the kitchen table.
A glass toppled, and his hand shot out to catch it without even looking, because of course he could—because he was still in control while I was unraveling.
My palms dug into his shoulders, hard muscle under crisp cotton, and I yanked him closer, desperate, reckless.
“Say it again,” he ordered, his lips dragging down my jaw.
“What?”
“My name.”
“Xander…”
His breath stuttered, rough. “Oh, God…”
The words slammed into me, hotter than his mouth. My thighs trembled even as I sat wide open for him. He kissed down my throat, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. Slow enough to tease and rough enough to brand.
I tugged his hair, forcing him closer. His answering growl rattled against my skin.
“This is a reckless idea,” I gasped when his teeth grazed my pulse.
“Perhaps,” he muttered, his lips curving against my neck. “Say you want it anyway.”
“I want it,” I confessed, shaking. “I want your baby.”
That was it. The leash snapped.
He kissed me again, savage, his thumbs digging into my ribs, memorizing me. Buttons tore, fabric slipped, and my blouse was gaping open. Cool air hit my skin, but his hands burned hotter, staking claim inch by inch.
He dragged me to the edge until the table bit into the backs of my thighs. Right now I didn’t want his care—I wanted the sting.
I wanted his everything.
He pulled back, forehead against mine, chest heaving. “Tell me if I go too far,” he rasped.
“Don’t hold back,” I begged.
Xander’s control broke clean. His mouth crashed into mine again, his hand sliding under my skirt, fingers biting into my thigh as he shoved it open. My body burned where he touched, where he didn’t.
I arched, shameless.
“Look at you,” he muttered, dark eyes devouring me. “Shaking already, and I haven’t even—”
He cut himself off with a groan when I rolled my hips against him, reckless.
“Please,” I gasped. “I need—”
“You’ll get it,” he snapped, voice wrecked. “But only from me. Say it.”
“You,” I moaned. “Only you.”
“Good girl,” he said again, and then his mouth was back on mine, hungry and desperate.
His hand slipped higher, pushing past lace, pushing me apart until I was trembling.
“Xander,” I cried, head tipping back.
“Say it louder.”
“Xander!”
His teeth caught my skin and he smirked, the wicked curve of his mouth making a promise I wasn’t sure I’d survive.
He pulled back suddenly, lifting me off the table again. I gasped, clinging to his shoulders as he carried me down the hallway. My head clipped the doorframe with a soft thunk.
“Shit,” he hissed, freezing mid-step. His arms tightened around me. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I laughed, breathless and wild.
That feral glint flashed in his eyes again.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he growled, and shoved the bedroom door open with his shoulder.
He threw me on the bed, not careless, not gentle—just raw. The mattress bounced beneath me, and then he was there, looming.
Shirt hanging open and eyes dark with hunger.
“Clothes off,” he ordered, voice low, strained.
My hands shook as I tried, but he caught my wrists, pinned them above my head, and ripped my blouse open. Buttons flew, fabric tearing. Heat shot through me at the violence of it.
“You make me lose control…” he muttered, voice rough, eyes blazing. “And I never lose control.”
His mouth crashed into mine, all teeth and tongue and desperation. Xander shoved my skirt up, tore my panties down my legs, and froze—just for a moment—to look.
His gaze burned so hot I wanted to squirm away and arch into it at once.
“Look at you,” he rasped, thumb dragging over my hip. “Spread out, dripping, begging for me. You don’t even know how sweet you look right now.”
“Then show me,” I begged.
His groan was guttural, his mouth carving a path down my throat, over my chest, down my stomach. He gripped my thighs, spread them wide, and held me down when I tried to buck.
“Xander,” I moaned, helpless.
“Say it again.”
“Xander!”
“Good girl.” His lips brushed me, hot and devastating.
The world shattered. My hands clawed the sheets, my back arched, my voice breaking.
He pinned me open, devouring me like he was starving, like I was the only thing that could feed him. Every stroke of his tongue pulled another sound from me, wild and unrecognizable.
I was close, already shaking apart, when he pulled back, lips wet, eyes gone feral.
“Not yet,” he growled. “Not like this. Your first time—” his hand slid up, his body pinning me down, his mouth at my ear—“I want you coming around my cock. Remember that. Every. Fucking. Second.”
And then he centered it at my entrance and I moaned.