Chapter 145 - 0145: Let Me See All Of You (r18+)

Chapter 145: Chapter 0145: Let Me See All Of You (r18+)

Elena’s Point Of View

His voice was a promise, a threat, a vow - dark, rough, dripping with a confidence that made my stomach clench and my thighs tremble. The words slithered into my ear, hot and heavy, wrapping around my mind like smoke, clouding every thought until nothing remained but him, this moment, and the ache between my legs that begged for more.

I had never felt so unmoored, so entirely at the mercy of a voice alone. It frightened me a little, how easily he stripped away every defense I’d built, how willingly I let him.

Somewhere beneath the haze of desire, a quieter voice whispered that I should be afraid of how much I wanted this, of how quickly I’d abandoned every rule I’d once lived by.

"Look at you," he rasped, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of my ear and sending a shudder straight down my spine. "Standing here, trembling for me like you’ve been starving for it."

"I have," I breathed, my confession slipping out ragged and weak, my pride crumbling with every syllable. "God, Jaxx, you have no idea."

I bit my lip, my fingers digging into the cool, smooth surface of the table, my knuckles white with the force of my grip. The air was thick, charged, electric, like the moment before a storm breaks, when the world holds its breath and waits for the chaos to unleash. I could hear my own pulse in my ears, could feel the tremor building in my knees, and some distant, rational part of me wondered how he managed to undo me so completely with nothing more than words.

It should have terrified me, this surrender. Instead, it felt like coming home to a place I never knew I’d been searching for. Some part of me mourned the woman I’d been only hours before, composed and guarded, while another part rejoiced at her unraveling.

And then his hands were on me.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties, slowly, deliberately, dragging the lace down my legs with a maddening slowness that made my breath hitch. The fabric whispered against my skin, a soft, taunting sound that echoed in the silence of the room, heightening every sensation, every nerve, every inch of me. I wanted to beg him to hurry and, in the same breath, wanted this torment to stretch on forever.

My mind was a battlefield of contradictions, desire warring with impatience, need colliding with the desperate wish to hold onto this fragile, suspended moment. I had never known want could feel like grief, like something precious slipping away even as it arrived.

I shivered, my body arching slightly, my mind racing with anticipation, with need, with the knowledge of what was coming.

And then he stopped.

Not all the way. Not enough to pull the panties off completely. Just enough to leave them pooling around my ankles, trapping me, exposing me, leaving me vulnerable and bare and aching for more. A helpless little sound escaped me, somewhere between protest and plea.

The restraint in his movements told me everything... he wanted me undone, not just physically but entirely, piece by aching piece.

I understood then that he was not a man who rushed toward what he wanted; he was a man who savored the unraveling, who found pleasure in watching me come apart by degrees.

I felt the cool air hit my skin, goosebumps erupting along my thighs, my stomach, my arms. My breath came in short, sharp gasps, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, in my ears, in the pulse between my legs. Every rustle of fabric, every shift of his weight behind me, seemed impossibly loud in the charged silence. I strained to anticipate his next move, my body coiled tight with a mixture of dread and longing I couldn’t begin to untangle.

Then he sniffed.

A low, rough sound sent a shiver spiking down my spine. My eyes flew open, my mind spinning, my body tensing as I realized what he was doing. His fingers brushed against the fabric of my panties, lifting them to his nose, inhaling deeply, slowly, as though savoring the scent of me. Heat flooded my cheeks, mortification and desire tangling together until I could no longer tell them apart.

Some shameless part of me, one I barely recognized, thrilled at being so thoroughly seen, so unapologetically wanted. I had spent my whole life curating what others saw of me, and here he was, stripping that curation away with nothing but a breath.

"Fuck," he growled, his voice a dark, filthy purr that vibrated through me. "You’re dripping, Princess."

I whimpered, my face flaming, my body aching, my mind torn between embarrassment and desire, between shame and need. "Jaxx, don’t..."

"Don’t what?" he countered, his tone laced with a dangerous amusement. "Don’t admire how ruined you already are for me? Look at this. You didn’t even make it past the door before you were soaking."

Then he pocketed them. The sound of the fabric rustling as he tucked my panties into his pocket was obscene, possessive, claiming - a small, deliberate theft that somehow felt larger than anything else he’d done to me that night. It was such a simple act, and yet it undid something in me, some final thread of resistance I hadn’t realized I was still clinging to. I felt strangely branded by it, as though he’d taken something that could never quite be returned to me, not even if he gave the fabric back.

"Jaxx..." His name became a plea, a protest, a prayer on my lips. "Give those back."

"Not a chance in hell," he chuckled darkly, his hands coming back to rest heavily on the curves of my hips. "These stay with me. A souvenir from the night you finally surrendered."

His hands returned to me in an instant, spreading my folds, his fingers sliding through my wetness, teasing, tormenting, driving me wild. My thighs trembled under the onslaught, my breath catching somewhere between his name and a sob. I felt exposed in a way that went beyond the physical, as though he could see straight through to the parts of me I kept hidden even from myself. There was a strange comfort in that exposure too, a relief in no longer having to hide.

"Fuck," he groaned, his breath hot against my skin, his voice rough with need. "Look at you. So wet. So ready. So fucking perfect."

"I’m ready for you, Jaxx," I choked out, pressing my upper body lower against the mahogany, my fingers clawing at the polished edges. "Stop teasing me. Put it in. Please, just fill me up."

I moaned, my hips rolling back against his touch, chasing the pleasure he was denying me, needing more, needing everything, my body already anticipating the fullness of him.

"Patience, Bambina," he growled, his large hands clamping down hard on my waist and pinning my hips in place so I couldn’t move. "You don’t get to dictate the speed. I do. Stay still and let me feast, princess."

Then his mouth was on me.

I gasped, my body jerking as his tongue swept over my clit, hot and wet and relentless. The sensation was electric, overwhelming, ripping a broken cry from my throat as pleasure spiked through me, sharp and bright and endless.

My vision blurred at the edges, the room dissolving into nothing but sensation. Every coherent thought I’d ever had abandoned me completely, leaving only pure, animal need in its wake.

"Jaxx!"

His name tore from my lips as a scream, a prayer, a plea, while his tongue circled, flicked, and sucked, driving me higher, further, deeper into the abyss of need and desire and madness. He groaned against me, the vibrations ripping through me, curling my toes, clenching my fingers, spinning my mind into chaos.

"All you have to do is relax," he murmured against my slick flesh, his voice a dark, seductive purr, "and let me pleasure you, Princess."

His lips closed over my clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking over the sensitive flesh, teasing, tormenting, driving me wild.

"Arch your back, princess," he commanded, his hands sliding up my sides, his thumbs digging into my ribs to force the posture. "I need to see you... all of you."

I did as he said, bending my spine, raising my hips higher into the air, presenting myself completely to his dark, ravenous gaze. A wave of vulnerability washed over me, quickly drowned by the desperate hunger clawing at my belly. There was something profoundly freeing in surrendering control so completely, in letting him orchestrate every part of this moment.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, I wasn’t calculating my next move, wasn’t performing for anyone; I simply existed, raw and unguarded, in his hands.

"Good girl," he growled, admiring the view before his mouth came down on me even harder.

I whimpered, my body trembling, my mind shattering, my world narrowing to nothing but him, this act, the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue, the promise of his touch. And then he plunged his tongue inside me... deep, hard, unrelenting. I screamed, my back arching, my fingers clawing at the table, my body clenching around his tongue, desperate, needy, aching for more.

"Stay still," he commanded, his voice a growl, a threat, a promise, "and let me taste all of you, Princess."

His tongue swept up, licking from my pussy to my ass, slow, deliberate, maddening, before dragging back down, circling my clit, sucking it hard, and making me cry out.

"Jaxx... please, I can’t breathe!" My voice broke, desperate and pleading.

"You don’t need to breathe," he rasped against my wet skin, his hands gripping my thighs and spreading me even wider. "You just need to take it."

He chuckled, dark and knowing, before doing it again, and again, and again. His tongue traced the same path over and over, licking, sucking, teasing, tormenting, driving me wild. My thighs began to shake violently, my breath labored, my eyes rolling back in my head as pleasure coiled inside me, tight, hot, unrelenting.

I lost track of time, of place, of everything except the relentless rhythm building toward something I could barely comprehend. Somewhere in that haze, I stopped being afraid of what I might become when it finally broke.

"Jaxx..." I gasped, my voice broken, my body trembling, my mind spinning. "Please... stop... it’s too much... I... I want more."

He chuckled, low and dark, before pulling back just enough to look at me, his lips glistening with my wetness, his eyes burning with lust, with possession, with something so feral it sent a thrill through me.

"Which one do you want, Elena?" His voice carried a taunt, a challenge, a dare. "Choose one. Stop or more? Don’t be greedy, Bambina."

"More," I wept, completely stripped of my pride. "More, Jaxx, please, give me more!"

Before I could stop myself, my hand shot back, gripping his dark hair and holding his head in place as I ground my hips down on his face, chasing the fast, relentless rhythm of his tongue. He groaned, the sound vibrating against my clit and sending another wave of pleasure crashing through me. In that instant, I forgot every reservation, every shred of restraint, driven only by the primal need pulsing through my veins.

"Just like that, Elena," he growled, his voice a dark, filthy purr against my skin. "Take what you want."

Then he bit me. His teeth closed over my clit, sharp, sudden, sending a jolt of pain and pleasure ripping through me, shattering the last of my control, the last of my resistance, the last of my sanity.

I came with a loud, broken cry, my body convulsing, my mind shattering, my world narrowing to nothing but him, this moment, the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue, the promise of his touch.

But he didn’t stop.

His mouth stayed on me, licking, sucking, lapping at my juices like a starved man, drinking me dry, claiming every last drop of me. My body trembled, my breath ragged, my mind spinning as aftershocks ripped through me, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me, drowning me, ruining me in the most exquisite way.

I felt hollowed out and yet somehow more whole than I’d ever been, as though he’d reached into the deepest part of me and rearranged everything he found there. I wondered, distantly, if I would ever fit back into the shape I’d once occupied, or if that woman was gone for good.

Then he pulled back, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with satisfaction, with possession, with something so consuming it sent a fresh thrill through me. "So fucking sweet," he murmured, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip, tasting me, savoring me, claiming me all over again.

And then he licked me dry. His tongue dragged over my pussy, slow, deliberate, thorough, cleaning every last drop of me, leaving me exposed, ruined, utterly his. I whimpered, my body trembling, my mind spinning, my soul screaming for more, already knowing this was only the beginning of whatever he intended for me tonight.

Whatever remained of the woman I’d been before this moment felt impossibly distant now, replaced by someone new, someone shaped entirely by his hands and his hunger. And strangely, achingly, I found I did not mourn her loss at all.