Chapter 218 - 0218: Sit On My Face (r18+)

Chapter 218: Chapter 0218: Sit On My Face (r18+)

Elena’s Point Of View

My body was on fire.

No... it was burning alive, every nerve ending screaming, every inch of my skin tingling with the ghost of his touch, the ache of his absence. I was trembling, my thighs slick with need, my breath coming in ragged, broken gasps as I clung to the edge of the couch, my fingers digging into the leather like it could anchor me to sanity.

But there was no sanity here. Not with him. There was only the relentless pull of my own body, a hunger so consuming it frightened me, a hunger that made me feel like a stranger in my own skin. I barely recognized the woman trembling on this couch, desperate and unraveling, so far removed from the composed person I’d been only hours before.

Jaxx had ruined me.

He had fucked me senseless, pounded into me like he wanted to brand me from the inside out, his cock stretching me, owning me, denying me the one thing I begged for... the release that hovered just out of reach, taunting me, mocking me. Every time I got close, every time my body tightened, every time my breath hitched and my vision whited out with the promise of ecstasy, he pulled out.

He stopped. He left me empty, aching, cursing the air between us, my body screaming for the completion he refused to give. It was cruelty disguised as pleasure, and somehow that made it so much worse, and so much better.

I didn’t understand how a man could be so generous and so withholding in the same breath, how he could worship my body one moment and torment it the next.

"You fucking..." My voice broke, a whimper slipping past my lips as I tried to push myself up, my legs shaking beneath me. "Bastard..." I hissed, my body thrumming with frustration, my pussy clenching at nothing, my clit throbbing with unspent need. I could feel him... his smirk, his dark amusement, the way his eyes burned into me like he could see every desperate, filthy thought in my head, as if my mind had been laid bare for his entertainment alone.

I wanted to hate him for it. I wanted to hate myself more for how much I craved his attention, even now, even like this. The shame of that craving burrowed deep, curling alongside the arousal until I couldn’t separate the two anymore.

He didn’t care.

He loved it.

I hated him.

I hated the way my body betrayed me, the way my traitorous cunt dripped for him, the way my nipples ached, hard and sensitive, begging for his teeth, his tongue, his fucking hands. I hated the way my mind short-circuited every time he growled my name, the way my skin prickled when he touched me, the way my heart pounded like it was trying to escape my chest.

Most of all, I hated that some wild, reckless part of me never wanted this feeling to end, no matter how much shame curled in my stomach alongside the desire. It was a shame that tasted sweet, somehow, laced with something far more dangerous than embarrassment. I had never known myself to be this creature... needy, shameless, desperate for a man who clearly delighted in my undoing.

Still clutching the couch, I glared at him across the room. He lounged there, utterly relaxed, as though he hadn’t just reduced me to a trembling mess. "You’re enjoying this," I said, my voice shaking with equal parts fury and want. "You’re lying there enjoying watching me suffer."

"Thoroughly," he admitted, not a shred of shame in his voice, his gaze dragging over me like he owned every inch. "You’re beautiful when you’re frustrated and desperate. Come here and I’ll fix it."

"And if I don’t want it fixed?"

"Then walk to the door." His eyes glinted in the dim light, daring me to try. "We both know you won’t."

And then, he walked away, leaving me to steady myself, to gather the scattered pieces of my composure even as my body screamed in protest. I hated how easily he could do that, how he could unmake me and stroll off as though nothing had happened at all, as though he hadn’t just set every inch of my skin ablaze. I hated, too, how my eyes followed him across the room, how I couldn’t look away even when I desperately wanted to reclaim some shred of control.

I blinked, my vision blurry with frustration and unshed tears, my body still humming with the aftershocks of his touch. Since when was there a fucking bed in this room? My mind raced, confused. Had it been here the whole time? Had I been so distracted, so consumed by him, that I hadn’t even noticed?

The room was dim, the lighting moody, but surely I would’ve seen a bed if it had been here when I walked in. The thought unsettled me almost as much as the ache between my thighs. I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to piece together a timeline that refused to make sense.

Unless...

Unless I’d been too busy watching him, too busy anticipating his touch, too busy drowning in the way he looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole, like nothing else in the world existed beyond the two of us. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through me, equal parts thrilling and humiliating.

Had I truly been so lost in him that an entire piece of furniture had slipped past my notice? It seemed absurd, and yet entirely plausible given how thoroughly he consumed my attention.

Fuck.

Jaxx laid back on the mattress, his body sprawled like a king on a throne, his cock thick, veiny, glistening with me, standing proud, aching, begging for attention. His muscles rippled as he shifted, his abs clenching, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths, every inch of him radiating a lazy, predatory confidence that made my knees weaken further.

He looked like sin given flesh, utterly unbothered by the chaos he’d created in me. I found myself staring, cataloging every detail of him as though committing him to memory, as though some part of me feared I’d never see this exact moment again.

His eyes... dark, hungry, possessive - locked onto me, daring me to move, to obey, to fight.

"Come here, princess."

His voice was a dark command, a velvet whip that snapped through the air and wrapped around my throat. My body reacted before my mind could protest, my shaky legs carrying me toward him like I was wired to his will. I paused at the foot of the bed, my chest heaving, my mind racing, caught between the urge to flee and the desperate need to close the distance between us.

Every instinct I had screamed two contradictory things at once, and I didn’t know which one to trust. Some small, frightened part of me wondered when I had lost the ability to resist him at all.

What did he want me to do?

How did he want me?

My gaze flicked over him... his cock, his hands, his mouth, and my stomach flipped. God, I wanted him. I hated him. I needed him. The contradictions tangled together until I could no longer tell where one ended and the other began, until I wasn’t sure I cared anymore.

Maybe that was the most frightening part... the not caring, the willingness to let him lead me wherever he wanted.

"Bam... bi... na..."

The way he drawled it, the way his tongue rolled over the syllables like he was tasting me, sent a shiver down my spine, my nipples hardening further, my pussy clenching around emptiness. I swallowed, my throat dry, my mind spinning, every rational thought dissolving under the weight of his gaze. He hadn’t even touched me yet, and already I felt undone. The nickname alone did things to me that should have been illegal, unraveling whatever resistance I had left.

I moved.

I crawled onto the bed, my knees sinking into the mattress, my hands pressing into the sheets as I hovered over him, my body humming with anticipation. I was about to straddle him, about to sink onto his cock and ride him until I forgot my own name, until nothing existed but the two of us and the fire between us.

For one fleeting second, I thought I knew exactly how this would go. I thought, foolishly, that I had some measure of control over what happened next.

"Sit on my face, princess."

My entire world stopped.

My breath caught.

My mind blanked.

What.

I stared at him, my mouth parted, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. His lips curved into a smirk, dark, knowing, his eyes burning into mine like he could see the chaos he’d just unleashed inside me, like he was savoring every second of my stunned silence. He looked entirely too pleased with himself for a man who hadn’t moved an inch. I had never, in my entire life, heard those words directed at me, and the shock of them left me momentarily speechless.

Sit on his face?

Oh, God.

A rush of heat flooded my body, my cheeks flaming, my pussy throbbing at the filthy, obscene image his words conjured. My mind raced... no, yes, fuck, please, my body aching with need, my pride screaming at me to run, to refuse, to fight. But beneath the panic, something darker and hungrier stirred, something that wanted exactly what he was offering, something that had maybe always wanted it, even before I had the words for it. I had never imagined myself craving something so taboo, and yet here I was, trembling with the force of that craving.

But God, I wanted it.

I wanted his tongue on me.

I wanted his mouth worshiping me.

I wanted to grind against his face until I screamed.

And he knew it.

Of course he knew it.

The bastard always knew. He knew how to unravel me, how to break me, how to make my body betray my own mind. And right now, my mind screamed, confused, embarrassed, mortified, while my body ached, throbbed, dripped with need, the two halves of me warring for control, neither willing to surrender first. I felt split in two, one half clinging to modesty, the other half begging to be ruined completely.

"Jaxx, I..." I started, my voice small, my face burning. "I’ve never... nobody’s ever..."

"I know," he said, something dark and pleased threading through his tone, as though the thought of being first, of being the only one, satisfied some primal part of him. "Nobody’s ever touched you here with their mouth, have they, Bambina?"

"No," I whispered, the confession scraping raw against my throat.

"And you want it. I can see it on your face. You’re blushing down to your chest and you’re dripping down your thighs." His voice dropped lower, rougher, and I felt it everywhere. "So why is that pretty mouth saying no?"

"Because it’s... I’d be... on your face, Jaxx, that’s..." I couldn’t even finish the sentence without my ears burning, the words dissolving into incoherence, my composure crumbling with each syllable.

"That’s exactly where you belong," he said, calm as anything, and my stomach dropped through the floor. "Now stop thinking and come up here."

Sit on his face?

The words echoed in my head, filthy, obscene, impossible. My cheeks burned, my heart pounded, my stomach twisted with a cocktail of lust and shame. I bit my lip, my gaze flickering between his dark, hungry eyes and the wicked curve of his smirk. I should refuse.

I should tell him to go to hell. Instead, I hesitated, caught in the current of my own desire, drowning a little more with every second I failed to move. The seconds stretched unbearably, each one eroding whatever resistance I’d managed to muster.

His hands shot out fast, strong, and unrelenting.

One second, I was hovering over him, my knees pressed into the mattress, my body trembling with indecision. The next - I gasped as his fingers dug into my hips, his grip bruising, possessive, unyielding. The world tilted, my balance shattering as he yanked me forward, lifting me like I weighed nothing, like I was his to manhandle, his to position, his to fucking own.

"Wha...?"

The word died in my throat as I realized - somehow, someway - I was no longer standing. I was on the bed. Over him. My thighs cradling either side of his head, my pussy hovering dangerously close to his mouth, his breath hot against my skin, his scent masculine, intoxicating, filling my senses until I could think of nothing else.

How?

When?

What the?

I hadn’t even seen him move.

God, he was fast.

God, he was strong.

God, he was impossible.

My hands slammed down onto the mattress, my fingers clawing at the sheets as I tried to lift myself, to escape, to breathe. "Jaxx!" My voice came out high, panicked, my body tense with embarrassment, with lust, with the terrifying realization that he had complete control, and that some shameless part of me reveled in it.

"Bambina..." His voice was a dark purr, muffled against my thigh, his lips brushing my skin, sending a shiver racing up my spine. "Don’t make me chase you."

"Maybe I want you to chase me," I said, the words coming out shakier than the defiance I’d intended.

He laughed against my skin, the vibration traveling straight up my thighs. "Careful, princess. You won’t win that game either."

I shook my head, my hair falling around my face, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps. "No... Jaxx, this is..." Awkward. Embarrassing. Too much. "I can’t..."

His chuckle vibrated against my thigh, low, knowing, infuriating. "Comply," he growled, his fingers tightening on my hips, his thumbs spreading me open, exposing me to the cool air, to his hungry gaze. "And be a good girl."

"No..." The protest came out weak, broken, my body betraying me as a whimper slipped past my lips. "This is..." Wrong. Too intimate. Too fucking vulnerable. "I can’t just..."

"Can’t just what?" He looked up at me from between my thighs, and the sight of it - his dark eyes, my skin framing his face - nearly finished me on the spot. "Let me eat this pretty pussy? Let me taste what I’ve been starving for? Say it properly, Elena, or I’ll hold you right here until you do."

"Jaxx..."

"Say it."

"I... I want..." My face was on fire. My pride died a slow death somewhere on the floor with my torn panties. "I want you to... to taste me. Please."

"Good girl," he growled. "Was that so hard?"

"Yes," I whimpered, the admission costing me what little dignity I had left.

His fingers moved.

One sharp, sudden pinch, right on my clit.

"Oh! Fuck!"

The sensation ripped through me, electric, searing, unexpected. My hips jerked, my back arching, a moan tearing from my throat before I could stop it. Pleasure exploded behind my eyelids, white-hot, blinding, my toes curling, my fingers digging into the sheets.

Bastard.

Fucking bastard.

I glared down at him, my chest heaving, my body aching, my mind spinning. Who was I kidding? This was Jaxx. Of course he wouldn’t play fair. Of course he would push. Of course he would take, because that was who he was, and some reckless part of me had wanted exactly this from the moment I’d walked into the room.

And God help me, I let him.

Because deep down, I wanted this. I wanted his mouth on me. I wanted his tongue inside me. I wanted to drown in the filthy, obscene pleasure only he could give me, consequences and shame be damned.

But still, I tried one last time. "Jaxx, I..."

"No." His voice was a dark command, his grip unrelenting as he pulled... no, slammed me down.

Down.

Down.

Right onto his fucking face.

My cry came out raw, broken, my hands fisting the sheets as his tongue, hot, wet, relentless, sliced through my folds, finding my clit with unnerving precision.

"Jaxx! Oh, God!"

His groan vibrated against me, deep, primitive, hungry. "Heavennnn..."