Mild steamy 😉
A pair of green, ruby-like eyes are staring at me intently.
I've always seen a composed expression on his picturesque face, but at this moment, he looks like a disheveled man who has found his treasure again. Pure relief and joy intertwine in his expression. I, too, have found my solace in his lap.
Memories flood my mind like a river breaking free from a dam. I can see his face clearly—Xavier, my light, my guardian angel.
He has been there from the very beginning, a constant presence in my life, protecting me through the chaos of my family and the tumult of high-class society.
When I was kidnapped, feeling powerless despite all my abilities, it felt like a nightmare. The fear, the helplessness, the way my world turned upside down in an instant.
But then, like a beacon of hope, there was Xavier. He came for me, his determination burning bright. His touch, his scent cutting through the darkness that surrounded me.
Now, I feel safe again, like a child wrapped in the warmth of a blanket on a cold winter night. The memories of our time together rush back, each one a reminder of the bond we share.
I remember the way he would lift me onto his shoulders, my laughter ringing out as we explored the world together.
The park, the trees, the endless sky—everything felt so vast and full of possibility when I was with him.
He taught me how to ride a bike, his steady hands guiding me until I found my balance.
I can still feel the thrill of that first ride, the wind in my hair, and the way he cheered for me as I pedaled away, a sense of freedom I had never known before.
I can't help but reflect on everything he has done for me. He was more than just a guardian; he was my anchor, my compass.
Every lesson he taught me, every moment we shared, has shaped who I am today. I remember the late-night talks, the laughter, the tears, and the way he always seemed to know what I needed, even when I didn't.
I close my eyes and let the memories wash over me, a bittersweet tide of love and loss.
As I piece together the fragments of my past, I realize that no matter what happens next, I carry him with me—his love, his lessons, and the unbreakable bond we forged through every challenge we faced together.
His melodious voice breaks through the haze that envelops my mind, pulling me from the depths of my daze.
"Are you okay?" he asks, concern lacing his tone.
"As you can see," I reply, attempting to muster a smile, but the effort feels futile. My throat is parched, my mouth dry as sandpaper, and my lips cracked and sore.
Xavier moves swiftly, unbinding the restraints that hold me captive, his fingers deft and gentle.
Then he speaks into his phone for what feels like an eternity, his voice a distant echo as I struggle to piece together the fragments of my memory.
When he returns, he offers me a cup of warm water, the liquid soothing against my parched throat.
But then, his voice turns sharp, cutting through the remnants of my confusion, "You dare to be a drunkard at a party like this! Are you always this stupid, or did your mind suddenly malfunction?"
His words strike a chord deep within me, a familiar echo that resonates in the corners of my mind.
But the effects of the aphrodisiac course through my veins, igniting a fire that leaves me restless and uncomfortable. I groan, the sound escaping my lips like a plea for help.
Xavier's hand, cold and soothing, caresses my cheek, grounding me in the moment. "What happened?" he asks, his voice softer now, filled with a tenderness that makes my heart race.
I crave his touch, the coolness of his skin against the heat radiating from mine. I reach out, desperate to feel more of him, to find solace in his presence.
But as I pull him closer, I sense his body tense, a shudder running through him as he instinctively tries to distance himself.
My mind, clouded and chaotic, refuses to let him go. I tug him onto my body, rolling us both onto the bed, my fingers tearing at the fabric of his T-shirt, ripping it to shreds in a frenzy of desire.
Xavier's eyes widen in shock, a mixture of disbelief and concern etched across his features.
I wrap my arms around him, pressing my body against his, seeking the comfort I so desperately need.
But then, a hard thingy against my thighs catches my attention, and I instinctively reach for it. Xavier groans, a sound that sends a jolt of awareness through me.
What is happening?!
Whoaaaaa!!! What am I seeing?!!! So hot!!!!!
As I already tore apart his shirt, his upper body is now bare. My breath catches in my throat; Xavier's bare upper body is a masterpiece, sculpted to perfection.
His skin is flawless, fair and smooth, glistening slightly under the soft light. Each muscle is defined, from the broadness of his shoulders to the chiseled contours of his chest and abdomen.
His abs are like a work of art, each ridge and valley telling a story of strength and dedication.
The way his body moves, even in stillness, exudes a raw, magnetic energy that draws me in.
I can't help but trace my gaze over the lines of his physique, the way his biceps flex slightly as he shifts, the gentle curve of his collarbone leading to the elegant slope of his neck.
His sleek black hair frames his face perfectly, accentuating those striking green eyes that seem to hold a universe of secrets.
It is as if every feature is designed to captivate, to mesmerize.
In this moment, I feel a rush of admiration and desire, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of him under my body, bare and unguarded.
In combination with the aphrodisiac, my last reason vanishes completely.
He rolls over, pinning me beneath him, his expression serious as he asks, "Samantha, tell me who am I?"
"Xavi, my only light," I breathe, the words spilling from my lips with an honesty that surprises even me.
His shock is palpable, his breath hitching in his throat. "What are you trying to do?" he presses, his voice a mix of concern and something deeper, something that makes my heart race.
"My body feels hot and itchy. Xavi is so cool. Xavi smells so good. My Xavi is the most handsome in the world. His green eyes are so mesmerizing. I like him the best. Please help me, Xavi, pretty please?"
I watch as he holds his breath, the weight of my confession hanging in the air between us. "I know you are drugged, you aren't sober," he says slowly, his gaze piercing into mine.
"But your sincere eyes, your earnest expression—they tell me this is the most honest confession you can give me in this life. If I could really control myself after all this, I wouldn't be a man. Sorry, my love."
And then, he kisses me.
It starts soft and gentle, a tender exploration that sends shivers down my spine, but it quickly escalates into something more aggressive, more fiery.
I feel as if the world around us melts away, leaving only the two of us in this moment. My heart races, my breath quickens; it is my first kiss, and it feels like everything I have ever dreamed of and more.
He releases me after what feels like an eternity, but his lips don't stop there. They travel to my forehead, my eyes, my nose, my cheeks, my neck, and down to my collarbones, each kiss igniting a new wave of heat within me.
With a swift motion, he tears apart my dress, my underwear following suit, leaving my bare skin exposed to the cool air.
The relief is immediate, but it is only a fraction of what I crave. I need more—more of him, more of this intoxicating connection that ignites between us.
And he gives it to me.
For an entire night, we lose ourselves in each other, surrendering to the heat and passion that envelops us.