ARIA’S POV
I take his hand, and he pulls me to my feet, slowly, deliberately—like he’s already undressing me in his mind.
“Bedroom?” I ask, breath already catching.
He shakes his head, tugging me toward the couch instead. “Too far.”
He drops onto the cushions, legs spread wide, pulling me straight into his lap. I straddle him easily, our bodies slotting together like we were built for this. His hands slide up under my shirt, palms hot against my ribs.
“No rushing, remember?” he murmurs, voice low and loaded. “We’re going to savor every second.”
“Then start savoring,” I whisper, grinding down just enough to make us both groan.
He grins—dark, hungry—and then peels my shirt up, slow as sin. When it’s off, he tosses it aside and licks his lips as he stares at me.
“Fuck. You’re gorgeous.”
His hands cover my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they harden under his touch. He leans in and wraps his mouth around one, sucking slow and deep, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp.
“Xander…”
“Say it louder,” he murmurs against my skin.
“Xander,” I moan, hips rocking against the hard length beneath me.
He kisses down my stomach, sucking a mark just above the waistband of my shorts before his fingers tug them down over my hips. I lift up so he can strip them off, panties and all, until I’m naked on his lap, flushed and dripping.
“Fuck, Aria,” he groans, eyes locked on the wet heat between my thighs. “You’re soaked.”
“For you,” I breathe. “Only you.”
He cups my ass with both hands and pulls me forward, sliding me up the length of his cock through his boxers. I moan, the friction perfect and not enough all at once.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, voice like a threat and a promise. “I’m not doing anything until I hear you say it.”
“I want your mouth,” I whisper, trembling.
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
He grins wickedly, then lifts me off him and lays me back on the couch, spreading my legs wide.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he says.
And then he goes down.
His tongue drags up my slit slow and thick, then circles my clit with devastating precision. I cry out, hips bucking into his face, but he pins me with one strong arm across my stomach.
“Stay still,” he growls. “Let me make you fall apart.”
He sucks my clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue fast—rhythmic, relentless, perfect. My hands tangle in his hair, thighs shaking as heat builds sharp and fast inside me.
“Xander—I’m gonna—”
He plunges two fingers inside me and curls them just right. I scream, hips jerking, coming hard against his mouth as he keeps licking, sucking, drawing every ounce of pleasure out of me until I’m writhing, breathless.
I’m still trembling when he climbs back up, mouth slick, eyes dark and wrecked with hunger.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, kissing me deep so I can taste myself on his tongue.
“I need you inside me,” I whisper against his lips.
“Not yet.”
“Xander—”
“No rushing,” he reminds me. “I want you desperate.”
He flips me onto my stomach, pulling my hips up so I’m kneeling on the couch, ass in the air. I hear the rip of foil, the sound of him sliding the condom on, and then—finally—I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
“Ready?” he asks, voice ragged.
“Please.”
He slides in slow, filling me inch by inch until I’m gasping, clenching, moaning into the cushion beneath me.
“Jesus,” he groans. “You’re so tight.”
He pulls out almost completely, then slams back in, making me cry out. Again. Again. His hips slap against my ass, his grip brutal on my waist, dragging me back into every punishing thrust.
“You take me so well,” he pants. “So fucking perfect.”
“Harder,” I beg. “Don’t stop.”
He growls low in his throat and starts fucking me harder, faster, deeper. My body starts to break apart again, the coil winding tight inside me, sharper than before.
“Cum for me,” he says, voice hoarse. “I want to feel you fall apart while I’m inside you.”
I scream his name as the orgasm rips through me, white-hot and blinding. He slams in one final time, shuddering, moaning my name as he spills into the condom.
We collapse together, tangled, breathless, skin on skin.
We’re still tangled on the couch, the room heavy with sex and breath and heat. Xander’s hand is stroking slow circles on my back, and I’m still catching my breath, boneless and blissed out.
But I’m not done.
Not even close.
I shift just enough to glance at him. His lashes are low, mouth slightly parted, but his eyes—God, they’re still dark. Still hungry.
“Hey,” I whisper.
He hums. “Yeah?”
“I want to do something else on the list.”
That gets his attention. His gaze sharpens, his fingers still.
“Now?”
“Yeah. If you’re up for it.”
He smirks. “After what you just did to me? I’m up for anything.”
I sit up slowly, hair falling over my face as I straddle him again, my thighs still trembling.
“I want you to tie me up.”
The smirk vanishes. His jaw tenses.
“Aria…”
“I trust you,” I say quickly. “And I want it. It’s on the list.”
He studies me, his thumb brushing my hip. “You know that’s not just about kink, right? It’s about power. Control. Letting someone take everything.”
“I know.” My voice is low, sure. “That’s why I want you to do it.”
There’s a long pause.
Then he stands, scooping me up in one motion. “Bed,” he says, already walking. “Now.”
He lays me down like I’m breakable. But the look in his eyes says he’s about to wreck me all over again.
He goes to the closet. I hear the faint sound of a drawer opening, then closing. When he turns around, there’s soft black rope coiled in his hand.
My heart stutters.
He kneels beside me, crawling over until he’s straddling my thighs. “Color system, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Green, yellow, red.”
“Good girl.” His voice dips lower. “Now hands above your head.”
I obey, wrists stretched up toward the headboard. He binds them with slow, practiced precision. The rope is soft but snug—secure without cutting off circulation. It’s the tension in the gesture that has my thighs clenching, not the rope itself.
When he finishes, he sits back and drinks in the sight of me—naked, flushed, wrists tied, legs spread.
“Holy fuck,” he mutters. “You tied up is my new religion.”
My breath hitches.
He leans down and kisses me softly, almost sweetly. “Tell me your color.”
“Green,” I whisper, already dripping.
He trails kisses down my neck, over my collarbone, then sucks hard at the curve of my breast. I moan, arching into him, but my hands are stuck above me and the frustration makes it hotter.
“You don’t move unless I tell you,” he growls. “Understood?”
“Yes.”
His mouth moves lower, teeth grazing my stomach, tongue teasing the dip of my navel. When he settles between my thighs again, I nearly cry.
“Keep those legs open.”
I obey.
He licks me slow, savoring, teasing. I whimper, hips twitching, but I can’t touch him. Can’t pull his hair. Can’t grind down on his face.
“Please—Xander—more—”
He moans against my clit. “You sound so good when you beg.”
He slips two fingers inside me again, curling them, tongue never stopping. I’m shaking in minutes.
“Cum for me like this,” he demands. “Tied up. Helpless. Mine.”
I explode—loud, writhing, completely undone. My arms pull against the ropes, but I’m held in place as my orgasm crashes through me like a wave.
He doesn’t stop. He drags it out, licking me through it until I’m sobbing, shaking, begging for a break.
Only then does he crawl back up, kiss me deep, and untie my wrists with careful hands.
As soon as I’m free, I pull him into me, clinging tight.
“You okay?” he whispers.
I nod. “That was… insane.”
30
