Chapter 32: Riding Him R18+
Xavier could feel the pressure building, his own release close. But he wasn’t finished. With a grunt, he pulled out, dropping to his knees behind her. Before she could react, he gripped her hips and flipped her onto her back, yanking her panties off and throwing them aside.
But instead of entering her again, he positioned himself above her and pressed his aroused cock against her. He teased her sliding through her slick folds, letting the tip catch on her entrance. Amira’s fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails leaving crescent marks.
She reached down between them, guiding him to the exact spot he was teasing. Their gazes locked. Her eyes dark with desire.
"Put it in," she whispered breathlessly. "Make me feel it. Don’t hold back."
He did. With one smooth motion, he sheathed himself inside her, bottoming out. They both froze, savoring the full feeling. Catching their breath.
Then he began to move. Their rhythm was different this time. Slower, deeper, more intimate. Amira wound her legs around him, pulling him closer. Xavier pressed his forehead to hers, panting into her open mouth.
Her breath threaded through his hair, pulling his face to hers, kissing him deeply. Their bare chests pressed together, her naked skin against his, and for a moment, everything else fell away.
Then she flipped him over, straddling him. Her thighs gripped his hips as she rode him. Rising and falling with deliberate rhythm, her hands pressed flat against his chest for leverage. Her hips rolled in circles, alternating speed.
"You always, always," she breathed, planting her hands on his chest and leaning down to bite his lower lip, "you always do this to me."
Slowing her rhythm, whispering, "This is new. I like that. But now..." she said, sliding off him, "let me see you. All of you."
He rose up to his knees, undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt. Amira worked her gown off her shoulders, the fabric sliding down her body in a whisper, pooling at her feet. She stood there in nothing but her skin.
"So beautiful," his voice came out hoarse.
She stepped toward him, and they sank onto the mattress together in a tangle of limbs. Her legs wrapped around him as he positioned himself at her entrance again, their eyes meeting.
"I want to look at you while you come," she said.
He pushed inside her slowly. Her eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping.
"Yeah," she breathed. "Just like that."
He moved, his rhythm steady at first, then increasing. Her breathing quickened, her nails digging into his back.
"I’m close," she whispered.
He drove deeper, harder, and she cried out.
Her climax seized her, and the feeling of her tightening around him pushed him over the edge. He came inside her with a raw, strangled groan, his body shuddering as release spilled into her.
For a moment, they lay tangled, chests heaving. He lowered his mouth to her throat, kissing the sweat-slicked skin.
Then, an unexpectedly sharp rapping on the door. An hotel employee’s voice filtered through the door, laced with complaints. "Sir? Ma’am? The volume..Mrs. Henderson in room 1212 is.... concerned. She would like you to know that she’s wearing earplugs, but her husband, Mr. Henderson, is not. And Mr. Henderson is on the HOA board."
Amira’s eyes went wide. She stifled a laugh against Xavier’s shoulder.
He stared at the door, then at her, and murmured, "Guess we’ll have to be quieter."
Her grin was slow and wicked. "Oh, we’re not done?"
Xavier’s body stirred against hers again. "Not even close."
The staff’s footsteps faded down the hall. Amira lay beneath him, her laugh still trembling against his shoulder, her body warm and slicked with sweat. The city lights through the window painted her skin in soft golds and deep blues.
Xavier propped himself up on one elbow. His gaze drifted from her face down the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist. She watched him watching her, that slow grin curling her lips again.
"You’re thinking about something," she said. "I can tell."
"What am I thinking?"
"That you want to move this to the window."
He raised an eyebrow. "Close enough."
She rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her forearms. The light from outside traced the line of her spine. "Go on, then. Show me what you were thinking."
He stood, the mattress releasing him with a soft sigh. The carpet was cool under his feet. Amira watched him cross the room, and when he turned back to face her, she rose too. She followed him without hesitation, her bare feet silent on the floor.
The window stretched floor to ceiling, the city sprawling below them like scattered jewels. Amira stepped close enough to press her palm against the glass. The pane was cool. She felt the faint vibration of the building beneath her fingers.
Xavier came up behind her. His hands found her hips, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above her tailbone. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.
"Look at that view," he murmured.
She tilted her head back against his shoulder. "I’ve seen better from here."
His laugh was low and warm against her skin. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The city lights reflected in her eyes, and he watched her watch them for a moment before his mouth found her neck.
She let out a soft sigh, leaning into him. His hand moved up her stomach, palm grazing the underside of her breast. She arched into the touch, and he took the weight of her in his palm, thumb tracing her nipple.
"You like this?" he asked against her skin.
"I like the glass," she said. "The way it feels when my skin presses against it."
He turned her to face the window, her palms flat against the cool surface. Her reflection stared back at her dark hair, parted lips, the gleam of her skin in the low light. Behind her, Xavier’s reflection moved closer.
He ran his hands down her sides, over the curve of her hips, settling on her thighs. He spread her legs gently with his knees. She could feel him behind her, the heat of him, the press of his length against her backside.
"Amira," he said, and her name sounded different in his mouth this time. Quieter, like a secret.
She pushed back against him, feeling him slide against her slick folds. Her breath caught. He held her hips still with one hand while the other guided himself to her entrance.
"Look at us," she whispered.
Their reflections merged in the glass. She watched his face as he pushed into her. Slow, inch by inch. Her mouth parted, a low exhale escaping her. He filled her completely, and for a moment neither of them moved.
The city hummed below them. The glass was cold against her palms, her breasts pressed against the pane, nipples brushing the smooth surface with every small movement.
Then he began to move.