Breaking Free by Richards Anya

Author:Richards, Anya [Richards, Anya]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3
Tags: Historical
ISBN: 9781609281076
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2010-06-06T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Claire awoke to the feel of Xavier’s erection under her thigh.

At first, she thought he was awake, but from the deep, even, cadence of his breathing, realized he still slept.

The fire had died to low red embers, and many of the candles had gone out, although the room was still lit well enough for her to see him next to her. His face was relaxed, almost boyish in sleep, lashes dark against his cheeks, a faint hint of stubble beginning to appear along his jaw. A lock of hair had fallen forward over his brow and she carefully brushed it back, running her fingers over the crown of his head.

The hour was late, and her heart was full, so full she felt it ache inside. It was not so much the story Xavier had told that moved her, for there were others who had experienced worse events in their lives. It was the knowledge he had been able to overcome his father’s treatment and grow to be the man he was that truly touched her. When he spoke of his son, love was clear in his face, in his voice. He would not perpetuate the legacy his father had tried to bequeath him.

Lifting her leg, she moved it down his body, reaching for his cock, slowly bringing him up from his dreams with soft strokes of her hand.

“Claire…”

His low moaning of her name, the tug of his fingers on her nipple, told her he was almost fully awake. Taking his hand, she placed it over his erection, gently holding it there when he would have pulled it away.

“Claire?”

“Do this for me, Xavier. Do it for yourself, too.”

“For you?”

How could she explain? There was so much more to the story than he had told. She had heard the pain, no, more than that, his agony filling the gaps in between what he had said. She wanted to exorcise the final residue of the experience from him, allow him the full and autonomous use of his own body once more. It was something she instinctively felt had been taken from him. If he could bring himself to orgasm, perhaps he could get it back, find freedom from the past. And perhaps the ache in her heart would also be banished.

“I want to watch you pleasure yourself. I find it beautiful.”

“How can you know? You’ve never seen me do it.”

“I did, once. Don’t you remember? It was the night I sat in front of the mirror and touched myself for you.” She shivered from the memory of it, knew he felt it through her fingers. “I watched you watch me in the mirror. I had planned to go slowly, to arouse you as much as I could before joining you on the bed. Then I saw you begin to masturbate, and the sight was too much for me. It pushed me so close to orgasm, as soon as I touched myself, I lost control.”

His cock jumped, and she urged his hand down and then back up, curling her fingers so his tightened, increasing the pressure and friction.

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