Page 96 of Crossing the Line
She was bared to him, her knees open wide, her bikini yanked open and cast to the side. Nothing separated them now. He changed the angle of his strokes so the head of his penis brushed over her primed lips, parting them.
The moan that broke free from her throat had him growling, a guttural rumble. With one deft thrust, he surged into her. “Waverly!”
She was stretched beyond capacity and didn’t care because it was her name he shouted. Xavier flexed his hips, holding himself against her until she relaxed millimeter by millimeter and he slid all the way home in a glorious surge. Every inch of him was surrounded by her wet walls, clenching him tight. He held there, at the very bottom of her, and another orgasm rushed up inside her.
Waverly quaked around him, enjoying the slivers of pain laced through the thick cloud of pleasure as she clamped down on him with each tremor. This, this was what she had craved. To be claimed by Xavier. She was dizzy with it. Impossibly, she wanted more even as the release began to fade.
He withdrew slowly, inch by inch, leaving her empty and needy. His jaw ticked when he slammed back into her. The pleasure, a special kind of torture to him, too. This time, she didn’t need a minute to adjust to him. She welcomed his full shaft. Again and again he drove into her. There was no finesse, no teasing, just a hard sprint for the finish. When he hit the end of her, Waverly saw the greed in his eyes. Oh, he liked what he was doing to her, liked that it hurt her just a little. He never broke away from her gaze as his pace quickened frantically.
She could read the message in his eyes loud and clear.Mine. Mine. Mine.
Sweat beaded between their bodies, her breasts rebounded, and her hips pumped with every thrust. Her arms sang from their restraint, but still he pounded into her, and she took it, she demanded it. She craved his surrender to his need. And when his eyes closed, when each thrust drew a soft grunt, she knew that he was finally giving her that surrender.
She gave herself over to him, to his need, and felt the first trickle of panic when the wave began to build. She wouldn’t survive this one, she was sure of it. Xavier Saint would drown her in pleasure so deep, she would never resurface.
“Xavier!” The panic made her voice sound foreign to her own ears. The wave began to crest inside her. Higher and higher it carried her, threatening her with its promises.
“With me, Angel. With me,” Xavier ground out the order. And then he was shouting her name as he pumped into her. She felt it. Hot spurts of semen exploded inside her, and the rawness of it shoved her over the edge. She was coming, a brutal detonation that echoed in every cell of her body. She tremored around him and forced more from him. Xavier jerked against her, in her. Grunting in surrender, awash in desire. He emptied himself inside her as she exploded around him. And as the wave of pleasure broke over them, there were no more barriers between them.
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The quiet surf lapped at Waverly’s toes, bringing attention to a sensation other than that of Xavier’s body pinning her to the sand. Her world got marginally wider as she began to register the cooling sand beneath her back, the blanketing heat of Xavier covering her front. She could see stars now in the dusky navy sky as evening fell. The moon was nearly full and fat as it hovered above the horizon.
A catharsis. That’s what had happened, she reasoned. All the anger and hurt and frustration they both felt had imploded in a nuclear reaction. Her body still hummed with aftershocks. She felt as though he’d hollowed her out, taking her turmoil and doubt and releasing it.
“Mmm.” His lips moved against her neck and shoulder where his face was buried.
It took so much effort to form the words, but they needed to be said before anything was ruined. “If your next words are ‘this can never happen again,’ I will literally kill you right now,” Waverly warned him.
“Mmm,” he said again, but this time he stirred. He pressed his forearms into the sand on either side of her and shifted some of his weight off of her.
They stared into each other’s eyes in the fresh twilight. The anger had dissipated, making way for a tenderness she’d never seen before. Xavier stroked a hand over her cheek.
“Come on,” he said, his voice a quiet rasp.
“Where are we going?”
“To take a bath.” He gently pulled her to her feet and began righting her bikini.
“I’m not going back.”
“No, Angel, we’re not.”
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Money talked, or so it appeared to Waverly, when the front desk clerk at the tiny inn barely batted an eye at her in Xavier’s wet shirt while a shirtless Xavier handed over a credit card and spoke in broken Greek. The exchange lasted nearly a minute with both parties switching from Greek to English and back again. But the language barrier didn’t seem to be a problem when the card was a black AmEx.
They’d walked half a mile down the beach in the opposite direction and into a bustling island town. Xavier had marched up a steep, cobblestone street and down several blocks as if he knew exactly where he was going. It turned out that he did when he led her up the stone steps of a white-washed building. It was a small, three-story hotel with each level boasting a slightly different design. An open-air hallway pierced the center of one level, dark, weather-worn wood accents adorned another, and a natural stone staircase led to a patio of columns and palms on the third.
There was a plunge pool in the courtyard, and the pocket-sized lobby was furnished with white couches and woven hassocks. Either the residents of Mykonos were incredibly discreet, or they had already seen it all. No one bothered to give the shivering half-naked blonde, nor her shirtless companion, a second look.
The clerk handed over a brass key and pointed toward the stairs before ducking back into the tiny office where his dinner cooled on the desk.
Xavier turned and held out his hand to her. She took it, and they began to climb the skinny staircase with its wrought iron scrollwork.
“How did you just happen to have a credit card on you?” she whispered.
Xavier smirked. “Boy Scout, remember? I’m always prepared.”
