Chapter 33: Fucking On The Window R18+
His rhythm was slow and deep, each thrust pressing her body against the window. She watched the lights blur in her vision, her forehead dropping to rest against the glass. His hands found her breasts, palms cupping them as he rocked into her.
"So good," she breathed, the words fogging the window.
He squeezed gently, thumbs circling her nipples, and she felt her knees weaken. She braced herself against the glass, meeting his rhythm with small pushes of her own.
"You’re taking me so well," he murmured. His voice came from somewhere above her, low and steady.
She moaned, the sound swallowed by the enormous room. He shifted his angle slightly, and her hips bucked against the glass. A sharper sound escaped her throat.
"There," she gasped.
He found it again, and she pressed harder against him, wanting more. One of his hands left her breast and slid down her stomach, fingers finding her clit with practiced ease. She gasped, her hips grinding back against his thumb.
The pressure built between them. Her fingers curled against the glass, the cold surface warming beneath her palms. She was aware of everything. The cool pane against her breasts, his chest against her back, his breath warm on her neck. The city lights, endless and indifferent, flickering below them.
"Look at yourself," he said.
She opened her eyes. Their reflections stared back at her through the dark glass. She saw herself. Hair tousled, lips parted, breasts pressed flat against the window. She saw him behind her, dark and focused, one hand on her hip, the other working between her legs.
"You’re beautiful like this," he whispered, and the words landed somewhere low in her belly.
She pushed back against him harder. He took the cue, driving deeper, faster. The glass trembled slightly with each impact. She bit her lip to keep quiet, but a whimper escaped anyway.
His thumb circled her in time with his thrusts, and she felt the familiar rise building. Her body tightened, every muscle coiling.
"I’m close," she whispered, her voice catching.
He pressed his chest against her back, lips at her ear. "Not yet."
His hand left her hip and moved to her throat not gripping, just resting there, a gentle reminder. She felt a thrill run through her at the pressure of his palm against her pulse.
He slowed his rhythm to a teasing crawl. She whimpered, pressing back against him, but he wouldn’t give her more.
"Look at the lights," he said softly. "Count them."
She frowned, confused, but her gaze drifted to the glittering city. "What?"
"Count them. Slowly."
She blinked, trying to focus on the scattered lights below. He moved inside her with infinite slowness, each shallow thrust making her breath stutter.
"One," she managed.
Another slow push. She gripped the glass.
"Two."
His lips brushed her ear. "Keep going."
"Three."
He slid deeper, then paused. She could feel every inch of him, the way he filled her, the gentle pressure against her walls.
"Four." Her voice cracked.
His thumb resumed its motion, slow and deliberate, matching his unhurried pace. She struggled to keep counting.
"Five... six..."
Her concentration fractured. The lights blurred together, a smear of gold and white. She lost her place, lost the rhythm of the count, lost everything but the feel of him inside her and the teasing pressure of his thumb.
"I can’t," she breathed.
"You can."
His voice was calm, almost gentle. His hand on her throat stayed still. The contrast made her shiver.
He increased his pace by a fraction. The change was barely perceptible, but she felt it everywhere. A shift in angle, a deeper press. Her knuckles went white on the glass.
"Seven," she whispered, though she wasn’t counting anymore. The number meant nothing. She was just making sounds now.
He gave her more speed, and she moaned, loud enough that she had to bite her hand to stifle it.
"That’s it," he said. "Feel it."
She did. The pressure coiled tighter with each thrust, each circle of his thumb. Her reflection flickered before her, a ghost of herself, and she watched as her mouth opened on a silent cry.
"Xavier..." she started.
"Let go."
His fingers pressed her clit, his hips driving into her with sharp, even strokes, and she came undone. Her body seized, tightening around him, waves of sensation crashing through her. She cried out against her own fist, muffled and desperate. The city lights swam in her vision, bright and golden and dissolving.
He held her through it, thrusting slowly to stretch out her pleasure, drawing it from her until she trembled against the glass.
Only when her breathing began to steady did he pick up the pace again, chasing his own release. She felt him swell inside her, heard his breath quicken, and she pushed back against him with the last of her strength.
He came with a low groan, his hips pressing flush against her. She felt him pulse inside her, felt the warmth of his release. His hands gripped her hips, steadying them both.
For a long moment, they stayed like that. Her palms flat on the glass, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades. The city hummed below them, indifferent and glittering.
Finally, he pulled out slowly. She turned, her back pressing against the cool window, and looked at him. His hair was disheveled. His chest gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat. He looked ruined in the best way.
"Well," she said, her voice still rough. "That’s one way to enjoy the view."
He stepped closer, planting his hands on either side of her hips against the window. His mouth hovered near hers.
"Wait until you see the sunrise from here."
The rest of her words disappeared into breathless laughter as the night blurred into a rush of kisses, whispered promises, and exhausted laughter.
By the time they finally made it back toward the bed, neither of them had much strength left.
She stumbled first, catching his arm.
"Okay," she breathed, laughing softly. "I officially surrender."
Xavier barely managed a grin before his legs gave out too.
They collapsed onto the bed together, landing in a tangled heap of sheets and limbs.
For a few seconds, neither moved.
Their breathing slowly settled as they lay side by side, completely drained.
Amira turned her head toward him.
"Still planning to keep me up all night?"
Xavier closed his eyes, a tired smile crossing his face.
"Maybe tomorrow."
She laughed quietly and rested her head against his shoulder.
Within minutes, the room fell silent.
The city continued glowing beyond the window, but neither of them noticed.
They were already asleep.