Badd Boy by Jasinda Wilder
She paused, then, with one hand around the base. Her eyes flicked to mine, and then down to my cock again, and the corner of her lower lip caught between her teeth in a smirk that was hungry and lustful and wild and eager all at once. With a toss of her head, she shook her hair so it draped down over her shoulder, obscuring her right breast in red-gold spirals. My lungs seized, and I wondered if she was about to do what I thought she was.
She pulled my cock away from my torso, angling it outward. Leaning forward, she bent over me, and her hair trailed down my thigh, tickling, and the crown of her head brushed my stomach, and then I felt wet tight heat around my cock, sliding slick and smooth and so wet and so hot, and my whole universe shrank down to that sensation, to this moment. Her mouth, on my cock.
More, and more. Sliding down, rising up.
As she moved her mouth upward, her lips around the tip, she took me in her hands and caressed me in slow smooth long strokes, and then her mouth plunged down again and her hands moved with it, a collage and clash of sensations, her hands now moving faster than her mouth, stroking and pumping, and her tongue circled and flicked and licked as she rose up. I heard a wet sucking noise and the ache in my balls was an agonizing throb, and my shaft pulsed, and I felt her mouth pulling off of me with a loud suckling popping sound, and I only barely restrained myself from coming right then.
My cock was wet with her saliva, and she straightened and gazed at it, watching her hands spreading her own slick spit all over me, and then, before I could catch my breath or formulate a thought, she bent over me again. This time, she tilted her head to one side and gazed up at me as her mouth stretched around my organ.
I groaned, the sight of her lips wrapped around me and the lust in her eyes did something to me, made me crazy, wild, with need. She smiled at the noise I made, her eyes crinkling and brightening, and then she wrapped both hands around me again and stroked me as her stretched lips slid slowly downward.
I gasped, gagging on a groan, arching my back and flexing my hips, need overtaking me. She moaned in surprise as I flexed my hips, and her eyes widened, the movement of my hips thrust my cock deeper into her mouth.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry--" I gasped. "I didn't mean to--"
She backed away until I fell out of her mouth, but only to lick her tongue up the side of my cock. "Don't apologize. Not for anything." She grinned up at me, then. "Give me everything, Xavier."
She guided me into her mouth again, and this time her hands just held my cock away from her body, and her mouth did all the stroking, plunging down and up, down and up, tongue flicking and licking and circling.
"Oh...oh god," I groaned. "I'm...I have to...oh god, Low...Low..."
She moaned, and the vibration buzzed through me like an earthquake.
I watched every moment of it, groaning, gasping as her mouth plunged down around me.
And then I was gone. Unable to stop myself, the orgasm struck with the swiftness of a lightning strike.
I felt myself unleash with a hot pulsing rush, and I heard Low moan in surprise, and then I heard her gulp, and then her lips popped as I slid out of her, and she was caressing me in smooth fast strokes with both hands over my wet slick cock. I pulsed again, and cum dripped out of me, and she glanced at me as she lapped it up, and then plunged her mouth around me in a fast sucking greedy movement, and I pulsed and came and groaned.
When she finally stopped, cum was dripping down the side of my cock and glistening at the corner of her mouth, and she lifted up, smiling up at me, climbing to her feet and onto the bed.
Her tongue flicked out as she lay on her back, licking away the droplet of my seed, and I followed her onto the bed. I ached, still. I'd just come harder than I'd thought possible, but the sight of her stretched out on the bed, breasts heavy, nipples puckered and hard, her pussy glistening and wet with need...I felt myself filling and throbbing with renewed fervor for all of her.
She wiped her mouth with her wrist, and then I was levered over her, kissing her, tasting myself on her tongue and lips, tasting her on mine.
This time, the kiss didn't end.
We writhed together in the bed, lips tangling and shifting, tongues darting. She was on top, then, somehow, tits smashed soft and thick against my chest; she ground her pussy against my thigh; she was beneath me again, and I had her neck cupped in one hand, clasping her into the kiss, into the embrace, and her hips flexed, and I knew she was as wild with need as I was.
Kissing, writhing, breathing, touching, hands all over, lips everywhere, bodies sweaty and moving and sliding.
I ached.
Throbbed.
After an all too brief eternity of kissing ourselves breathless and wild, I broke away, gasping, levered above her.
"I need you," I murmured. "Low, I fucking need you. I need to make love to you."
16
Harlow
* * *
He was everywhere, he was everything. Lean and hard, wolfish and hungry and wild with desire, kissing me as I've never been kissed; passion bled through his pores, and need blazed in his eyes.
Love gnashed in his kisses.
"I need you," he whispered, his voice rough, ragged with desperation. "Low, I fucking need you. I need to make love to you."
I felt him, his cock throbbing hard against my belly. How long had it been since he'd come? Minutes? God, this man. So potent, so hard. The taste of his cum still lingered in my mouth, and I tasted my own essence on his lips.
My core ached. I wept with my own need.
"Then make love to me," I whispered back.
He hesitated. "Do we need a condom? I don't have one. I wasn't expecting this. Hoping, and wanting, but not expecting."
"No," I said, gazing up at him. "But I'm on the shot, and I'm clean."
He knelt between my thighs, his hard muscular body shifting as he stared down at me. "Low, are you--"
"I'm sure." I grasped his cock, nudging the thick, fat crown between the lips of my pussy, notching him just inside me. "I want you--I need you. I need you like this, with nothing between us. And you're--you're the only one I'll have ever been bare like this with. Ever. I swear on my soul."
He wasn't breathing--he was simply staring down at me, his eyes wild with need.
"I love you," Xavier said, and thrust into me.
It was a slow, careful thrust, gentle and exquisite. Filling me, ever so slowly, until he was buried inside me, our hips meeting.
"Oh god..." he whispered, shaking all over. "Oh fuck, Low. Harlow, god, you feel..."
"Tell me," I breathed.
"Like heaven." He planted his face between my breasts; pulling out and then plunging back in, harder. "Like...home."
I wept. I couldn't not. He was exactly right--this was heaven, this was home.
Utter perfection.
He filled me until I ached, stretched me until I burned, but it felt just right. Just enough. When he next thrust fully into me, I was split apart until I couldn't breathe or think or feel anything except him, his cock inside me and his body above me and his breath on mine and his lips on my tits and his thighs against the inside of mine.
I wrapped my legs around his back and clung to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him.
I breathed on his cheek, panting, whimpering shrill gasps against his ear. I writhed against him, aching and tingling and pulsing all over. Desperate and wild, crazed with him, enveloped by him. Weeping unashamedly with the manic crushing onslaught of love coursing between us.
He kissed my tears and didn't have to ask why I was crying--the desperation and the love in my eyes when he pulled away to stare down at me told him all he needed to know.
"I love you," I whispered, taking each of his thrusts and meeting them with my own.
His body was so hard, so strong, and his thrusts sped up, grew in need, grew in potency, and he filled me and left me empty, filled me and left me empty--his voice growled in my ear, primal and wild and unleashed, and my heart swelled at this Xavier,
"Say that again," he grunted, pausing with his cock buried deep, one fist in the pillow by my face, the other caressing my breasts lovingly, possessively. "Tell me again."
I locked my heels tighter around his back, thrusting against him, grinding and rolling my hips against his, fucking him from underneath him. Locks of dark hair clung in damp curls against his forehead and draped over his eyes, and I brushed them away with my fingers, clutched the back of his neck and kissed his cheekbones and his jaw and the corner of his mouth as I undulated against him.
"I love you, Xavier."
"Harlow--" he grated, teeth clenched, pushing into me. "Fuck!"
"Yes!" I breathed, his cock sliding against my clit and sending shivers of climax-inducing ecstasy through me. "All of you, Xavier--show me--show me, god...oh god! You feel so good, Xavier! Give me more, give it to me harder, give it to me faster!"
He snarled wordlessly, crushing his lips against mine in a brief slashing kiss.
And then I knew he'd gone beyond all control, and I cried out as he slammed into me. He was all over me, inside me, around me, above me--he was everywhere, he was everything. His body was hard against mine, his face against the side of my throat, his arms wrapped around my body, lifting me up and crushing me against him, clutching me in a furious death grip I wanted to live in and die in and never leave, and then he let go.
He fucked me with perfect love.
Each thrust was slow and hard, grinding with shuddering power into me. I gasped his name as he reached orgasm:
"Xavier! Yes, god yes, yes, more--Xavier! Oh god, Xavier..."
And I was there, so close, riding the edge, and I felt him explode inside me, filling me with his hot wet seed and thrusting against me desperately and whispering my name in my ear as he moved, and I needed to come, needed to--
I clung to him with arms and legs and rolled, and he went with me onto his back, and I rose above him, hair wild and breasts heaving, feeling like a goddess in that moment, a creature of raw wild primal sex, and his eyes blazed love and worship. He was throbbing and thick inside me, his cum wet and hot and slick and intoxicating, and he was so deep...
I planted one hand on his stomach and leaned back and rolled my pussy against him, riding his cock, grinding him where I needed him...but it still wasn't enough.
He knew, though. He knew what I needed.
He wrapped his hands around my flexing thighs and pressed a thumb to my clit, pressing in circles, and I cried out as the orgasm rose up inside me at his touch, and I abandoned myself to taking this moment in all its glory, taking what I wanted and what I needed.
I clutched my breasts in both hands, leaning way back, spine arched, hair flying, hips rolling, and his touch sent me there, took me there, and his cock thrust into me and--
I came.
I didn't just come, though.
Or explode, or shatter.
No, this was something else.
Our eyes met and the climax smashed through me and shook me and wrenched me and tore screams of his name out of me--and this was love. Sex as it had never been, fucking as it never been--love in its rawest and most primal and perfect form.
Love shared.
Love created.
I fell forward onto him, sobbing through an orgasm that never ended or else became two and three in succession, so fast it was all one, each more powerful than the last.
Xavier knew the precise moment I started coming.
His eyes locked onto mine, and there cannot be any moment so raw and intimate and vulnerable as when you lock eyes in the midst of an orgasm and know you love him and he loves you, and you can't look away even though he's seeing into you, and you feel exposed, beyond naked, soul bared, heart open and tender and there for the taking.
He took it, then--he took my heart.
And I took his.
That intimacy was in his eyes, and I knew he was mine for all time, and I his.
"Low..." he whispered, sounding as broken as I felt.
I finally stopped coming and clung to him, shuddering, sobbing. "I know, Xavier. I know. Me too."
"Everything, Low. That was..."
"It was everything," I finished. "I know. Me too."
* * *
Xavier lay beside me, asleep.
What time was it? I decided I didn't care.
I texted Emily: make sure absolutely NO ONE bothers me at home until I text you again. No one. For any reason, including death or the end of the world.
You got it, boss, she texted back; a brief pause, and then another text popped up from her: He's there?
I snapped a photo of his face, sleeping, peaceful, heart-stoppingly beautiful, and sent it to her: Between rounds.
He's even more gorgeous than I thought. Jesus, Low. You're SURE he doesn't have any single cousins? ;-)
LOL I'll ask.
A pause, the dots jumping, and then she hit back. You love him?
And then some, Emily. I smiled to myself as I tapped at the keyboard. Thank you.
What else are assistants for? Another brief pause. Bring him as your date to the premiere.
I hesitated over the idea, but deep down I knew if he wouldn't go, neither would I, consequences be damned. I'll ask. I'll need a tux fitted last minute, if he'll go.
Easy enough. I'll get someone on call right now. The message popped up, and the dots appeared again right away. Make sure you eat something...Besides him, I mean.
I'll try, but no promises.
"Who are you texting?" I heard Xavier ask from beside me, his voice sleepy.
"Emily, my assistant."
"About what? Or is that personal?"
I laughed and showed him the phone. "Nothing's personal between us anymore, Xavier."
He read, and then handed it back. "I think I remember my dad mentioning an estranged brother when I was a kid, but I know nothing about any cousins."
I laughed, turning the phone off and putting it in the drawer. "She's just jealous because I get you."
He smiled vaguely, and then glanced at me. "She wants you to take me to a premiere?"
I lifted his arm up, settled into the warm strong cradle of his arm. "Of my latest film, December's Last Light."
"Do you want me to go with you?" he asked, his hand traveling up my back and down to my butt in slow, roaming caresses.
"Yes." I looked up at him. "But it's going to be a big event, Xavier. Press will be there in force. Lots of cameras, and lots of questions. If we go, we'll be out there. You and me, as a couple. People will write about you, and us, and make things up about me cheating on you or fake breakups and shit like that."
He was silent for a long, long time. "This is a big part of your life, and they're important to your career, these premieres."
"Yes, but you don't have to--"
"I'll go," he cut in. "I want to go with you."
"You will? You do?"
He smiled down at me. "Yes. I want to share your life."
I gazed up at him, my heart melting. "I'll be proud and honored to walk that red carpet on your arm, Xavier."
He blinked hard. "You will? Proud and honored?"
"One hundred percent truth, Xavier. Yes. Proud and honored. There's no one I'd walk the red carpet with but you."
He rolled over on top of me; his arm still cradled under my neck, and kissed me. "Come on," he said, abruptly rolling off me and hopping out of bed.
"Where are we going?" I asked, laughing as he hauled me out of the bed after him to the stairs, both of us still naked.
"I'm going to feed you," he said, starting down the stairs with my hand in his, "and then I'm going to fuck you."
"Why, Xavier! How crude of you!" I said, giggling.
He paused halfway down the stairs, turning to glance up at me in consternation. "I'm sorry. I thought it would be funny, and perhaps sexy."
I laughed even harder, leaning down over him from two steps up and palming hi
"Ah...I was thinking the couch. Or the kitchen counter. Or the floor." He found my slit with his fingers. "Or right here on the stairs."
I gasped as he circled my clit with a light, delicate touch that sent me into a paroxysm of pleasure. "Why pick one?" I breathed. "There are a lot of surfaces in this house to christen."
"Christen? As one christens a child in a church?"
"Yeah." I frowned down at him. "You've never heard that expression?"
"No."
"It means the first time a particular place is used for sex. We just christened my bed, because I've never had sex in that bed until today. We're about to christen my stairs, because I've never been fucked on these stairs. After you feed me, we'll christen my kitchen island, because I've never been fucked there, either. And then my couch, and everywhere else you can think of to fuck me, because you're the only man I've had in my home."
"Harlow, you do know when I say I'm going to fuck you, that I really mean--"
I lifted up and bit his lip. "Make sweet, passionate, beautiful, affectionate, attentive, gentle love to me. Yes, Xavier. I know." I sat down on the stairs and lay back, pulling him down with me, and slid him inside. "Can I tell you a secret?
"Anything," he whispered, and moaned as he filled me.
"I know you love me. And I love making love with you. But I'll also love it if you just...fuck me."
"Then fuck you I shall. And make love to you." He paused. "At the same time," he clarified.
"Perfect," I said, giggling breathlessly.
And so he did.
On the stairs.
And the kitchen counter, after we'd eaten. And the couch. And outside, in the pool, half in the water, splashing as we came together.
I lost count of the number of times he told me loved me, and repaid him with a countless number of utterances of my own.
"I love you" became a chorus. A song. A poem.
It became an invocation, evoking our future.
17
Xavier
* * *
The tux was fitted to my body, cut to my precise measurements and made of some sleek, stretchy, breathable material. It moved with me, stretching, not constricting. The tie was tight, but I could breathe, after insisting the top button be left undone behind the tie.