[FEATURED IN WATTPAD INDIA PROFILE]
❝Pioneering the art of constructing love, my Kanmani.❞
Xavier teased her skin, slowly caressing her cheeks and her lips trembled.
❝You don't dare!❞
And he kissed her.
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When he had compromised his dreams and...
Warning, well you can skip this chapter if you don't want to read my subtle attempt at spicing things up between Xavier and Krithika.
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Shrugging off his shirt, Xavier pressed her beneath his weight, their bodies fusing as skin met skin. Her gasp echoed softly as his knuckles skimmed the curve of her breast, igniting an unspoken ache between them.
Sliding down the right strap of her bra, his lips explored her neck. Her fingers curled in his hair, tugging whenever he faltered and rewarding him with moans when he nipped her skin. He kissed her shoulder, trailing slowly to where her desire awaited.
He pushed the right cup of her bra down, freeing her breast, which strained upward as though aching for touch. She buckled beneath him as he groaned, "Oh, my Krithika."
Her feverish body tightened, every touch and kiss unraveling her restraint. This was no dream—his hands were artisans of desire, far surpassing her own.
His fingers, deft and teasing, brushed over her supple skin, the feather-light caresses driving her mad. She arched toward him, desperate for more than fleeting touches.
And then, blessed relief came after exquisite torment. His hand enveloped her breast, massaging it as his thumb and forefinger caressed her nipple—teasing, circling, and pinching until she screamed, "No!" Her eyes shut tight, overwhelmed by the sensations.
But it wasn't enough for him. His tongue began its slow, torturous dance, circling her nipple before his mouth closed over it, sucking hard. The pleasure was beyond anything she'd ever imagined.
Sliding the other strap down, he gave her other breast the same meticulous attention, savoring her moans and screams, half-protests that begged him to continue.
He could see her body responding to his every touch, her skin alive under his hands. Her mewling cries only fueled his desire, hardening him further. He made sure she knew what her love did to him, how deeply it consumed him.
He was crafting poetry on her body, each touch a verse, each kiss a stanza—his unspoken ode that only she could decipher.
Pulling down the whole frame of the bra to her waist, he sat down. His hands reached out for hers and their fingers entwined with each other as his eyes took in her naked torso. It was nothing like what every night he had fantasized about her. She was way more beautiful than any of those dreams, where he had made love to her countless times.
Her left leg loosened its grip from his waist and her foot touched the cold sand beneath them. Opening her eyes, she stared at him.
The sky was red, the sun already hidden under the horizon as his caramel skin glittered like sculpted gold. His eyes looked at her with so much love that she cried. It was unbelievable for her, unbelievable what she had attained in her life, unbelievable to finally be able to live the dream of being admired for being herself.
