Page 61 of Passed Ball

"Is that so? Tell me more about this joy."

"Right now, I'm focused on enjoying you, and that's something I won't give up. Even if it means you thought I was a jerk for a while, then it was absolutely worth it."

His lips drop to my neck, sucking on my pulse point, causing my breath to hitch.

I've memorized every single thing on my wish list and nerves flutter wildly in my stomach, the beat of their rhythm growing more insistent with every kiss he trails down my neck.

"You taste so fucking good, every goddamn inch of you." His palm covers my breast over my tank and he groans. The appreciative sound does something to me. "And these, I love these, it's a shame I haven't seen them yet."

"No better time than the present." Being an early bloomer made me self-conscious and it took years of positive self-talk for me to change that narrative. I push those old thoughts away, reaching for the hem of my tank, pulling it over my head.

"Jesus, I knew you'd be perfect." He nips at the rounded swell of one, scraping his stubble over it and dragging a whimper out of me. "So sensitive."

Bite.

Lick.

Kiss.

Each swipe of his mouth on my now marked skin drives me higher.

"I have an addendum to our list." His voice is pure gravel. The rough pad of his thumb brushes over the red blossoming across my chest. His hips rock against me before he lowers his mouth to kiss my tender flesh.

I hum, too distracted by the way he consumes me to really respond.

His fingers pull the cups down, pushing my breasts higher. "These deserve to be worshiped--fucked and played with until you're begging me to paint your neck."

Everything spins around me, and I open my mouth to speak--though I don't know why, there are no words, my brain is a blank space filled only with the image he's crafted.

It only short circuits further when he runs his long finger along my collar bone. "You wear pleasure like you were made for it. These marks are merely the beginning." His hand collars my neck, holding it gently, intently watching the spot where he's anchored to me. "Will you let me give you more?"

"Yes, everything," I agree, entranced by the idea of a limitless list. I've spent years not demanding the pleasure I want. The list feels a little like a step toward shedding the old Vivi--the woman more concerned about not hurting her partner's ego than being fulfilled. Xavier's quickly become someone I trust as a friend and he's offering me everything I want--and some things I didn't know I wanted--on a silver platter.

He kisses down my stomach and those nerves disappear. He's got me more worked up than I've ever been.

"These curves haunt me in my sleep, taunting me because I haven't spent enough time exploring them. No one's ever been my type the way you are, Vivi."

Each layer of praise he lays down is another click higher on the rollercoaster he's got me riding. My fingers tangle in his damn strands, holding him to me as much as they urge him forward. "Xavier, I need you."

"What do you need, gorgeous? And be specific." Sharp scrapes of his five o'clock shadow tease my hip where it meets the waistband of my leggings. "Tell me how you want to come tonight."

"On your mouth," I practically shout, making him chuckle, the deep vibrations hotter than any sound I've heard before.

"That's it, sweetheart, don't ever settle for less than you deserve." I lift my hips, helping him as he pulls the material down my legs. "Are you going to sit on my face and soak me?"

I shake my head. "Not this time, please." It's hard enough for me to come like this and I'm not sure I could do it like that.

"We don't do anything you don't wantever.Do you understand, Vivienne?" There's something intimate about the way he uses my full name as he ducks his head to make sure I get those vivid blue eyes.

All I can do is nod. I'm putty in his hands. "Another time. I'm not sure I'll be able to enjoy it. I'll be too worried about whether I'll be able to come like that, and don't want anything getting in the way tonight."

"No matter what we do, I'll always make sure it's good for you. But I'm so proud of you for telling me what you need," he praises.

And I preen.

Xavier frees my pants from my ankles, letting them fly some place behind us. On instinct alone, my lids drift shut as his nose drags over the lace of my panties. And then I forget to breathe altogether when he uses the flat of his tongue to press them against my core, tormenting me without actually giving me what I need.

"Is this what you want?"

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