ARIA’S POV
The door clicks shut behind us. The only sound in the room is our breathing—fast, shallow, heavy with want.
Xander doesn’t speak. Neither do I.
He turns, grabs the hem of his shirt, and pulls it over his head in one smooth motion. My eyes drop to his chest—broad, cut, golden under the warm light. I’ve seen him shirtless before. This time feels different.
Because this time, he’s mine.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low, dark.
“I want this,” I whisper. “I want you.”
That’s all it takes.
He’s on me in a second—mouth crashing into mine, hands everywhere. He walks me backward, his palms cupping my ass, squeezing as he devours my mouth. I gasp when the backs of my knees hit the bed.
“Take it off,” he mutters, tugging at my top. “I want to see you.”
I peel my shirt off, my bra right after. He steps back for just a second, his gaze dragging over every inch of me.
“Fuck, Aria… you’re unreal.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s holding back something feral.
His fingers graze up my stomach and over my breasts. He cups them, thumbs brushing my nipples until they’re hard and aching.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he growls. “You’re shaking.”
“Because I need you.”
He pushes me down onto the bed, climbs over me, his mouth finding my throat, my collarbone, my breasts. He licks a slow circle around my nipple, then sucks it into his mouth, hard. I cry out, my back arching off the bed.
“Say it again,” he demands between kisses.
“I need you.”
“Good. Because I’m not going to stop until I’ve ruined you for anyone else.”
My core pulses at the way he says it—like it’s a promise.
He moves lower, dragging my leggings down my legs. My panties follow. He tosses them aside and spreads me open with his hands, groaning when he sees how wet I already am.
“You’re soaked,” he mutters. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” My voice is shaky. “So much.”
“Show me where you want me.”
I grab his hand and slide it between my legs.
“Here,” I whisper. “Touch me right here.”
He doesn’t hesitate. His fingers glide through my slick folds, circling my clit just right. My hips buck. He slips one finger inside me, slow and deep.
“You’re so tight,” he groans. “So warm. Fucking perfect.”
Another finger joins the first, and I can’t stop the sounds coming out of me—needy, breathless, desperate.
“You’re gonna cum on my fingers before I even fuck you,” he says, voice hot against my neck. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes—don’t stop—please, Xander—”
He fucks me with his fingers faster, thumb pressing on my clit, and I snap. My orgasm hits hard—my thighs trembling, hips grinding against his hand as I moan his name like it’s the only word I know.
Before I can catch my breath, he’s tearing open a condom packet. I watch as he rolls it on, his cock thick and heavy and perfect.
“Come here,” he says, guiding me up. “I want to watch your face when I slide inside.”
I straddle his lap, his hands gripping my hips as I line him up. The second I start to sink down, we both moan.
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “You’re… big.”
“You’re taking me so well,” he says through gritted teeth. “Fucking look at you.”
I move slow at first, letting myself adjust to the stretch. He kisses me, groans against my lips, then grabs my ass, guiding me into a rhythm that has my head falling back.
“Ride me, baby. Just like that.”
I do. I grind down hard, rolling my hips, moaning every time he hits the spot that makes my toes curl. His hands slide up my body, squeezing my breasts, then tangling in my hair as I bounce on his cock.
“You feel so good,” I breathe.
“Keep going. Don’t stop. I wanna feel you fall apart on my dick.”
I ride him harder, chasing that high. He leans up, sucks on my nipple, and that’s all it takes. I come again, crying out, falling into his chest.
He flips us, thrusting into me from above, deep and rough and perfect.
“Say my name,” he growls into my ear.
“Xander—fuck—Xander!”
His rhythm grows frantic. My legs wrap around him tight, my nails digging into his back as I feel him tense.
“Cum inside me,” I beg.
“I can’t—condom, remember?”
“Oh, right.” I giggle mid-moan, totally wrecked.
“Jesus,” he groans. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
He thrusts a few more times before he growls deep in his throat, body jerking as he finally lets go.
When he collapses beside me, we’re both sweaty, breathless, and absolutely destroyed.
“I can’t feel my legs,” I mumble.
“Can’t feel my soul,” he replies.
We look at each other, laugh, and pull the blanket over us.
