A Pull
A Pull
Serafine POV
Xander’s body feels weird against mine, weighing me down. His skin is damp with sweat, and his breath is heavy against my throat. My chest rises and falls in an unsteady way, and my body is still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. The room is quiet except for the sounds of our ragged breaths. I’m not sure how to feel right now. The pleasure was like nothing I’ve ever felt.
I don’t move, and it’s not that I can anyway; he’s still on me. Plus, every part of me feels raw and exposed, I feel overwhelmed by the sensation that is still pulsing through me from the orgasm. I should feel disgusted, ashamed or something, anything, but all I feel is this strange, lingering heat that curls in my stomach. He wanted to show me that sex is pleasure, and he’s done that.
The truth settles in my bones like a twisted sickness. He didn’t just take me and use me for what he wanted. He ensured! would feel everything. His lips on my skin, the feel of his fingers, the way my body craved him and wanted to arch into his touch to take him deeper inside of me.
He shifts slightly, his weight easing off me, but his hands don’t leave my body. Instead, his fingers trail lazily along my waist before tracing the dip of my stomach and sliding down my thigh. It’s a lingering and possessive touch. I shudder under it, not from fear, though.
Xander notices the shudder, of course, he does; he notices everything. His eyes open, and they are still dark, but now with satisfaction. A knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and something inside of me pulls me toward him.
I’m not sure what it is, but it feels weird. His gaze moves over me, following the bruises that mark my skin, to the way my chest rises and falls too quickly.
Something unreadable flashes in his expression.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs. His voice is low, almost teasing. I can feel his fingers stroking over my hip; it’s a deliberate motion. “Was it too much for you?”
Swallowing hard, my throat feels dry all of a sudden, and my pulse is still erratic. I want to glare at him, to snap at him, but I don’t trust my voice. So I do the only thing I can think of. I turn my head and look away. My eyes stare at the ceiling, my body is still betraying me though with each aftershock of pleasure that rolls through me.
Along with this weird tugging inside my chest that makes me crave getting closer to him.
Chuckling, deep and satisfied, Xander nods. His reaction is like he’s unveiled something he was waiting to confirm. His hand moves again, sliding up my side as his thumb brushes against my ribs.
“You can lie to yourself all you want, but your body won’t let you,” he says, his tone is amused and smug. “You liked it.”
The heat rises quickly in my cheeks, and I clench my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. His smirk widens more at my reaction.
“Don’t worry, Serafine. You’ll learn to stop fighting it.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, my fingers grip the sheets beneath me and I realise I held onto him, I pulled him closer during that. He’s wrong, though; he has to be wrong. I can’t let him get into my head. It’s not like I’m here to be his equal. I’m here as an object he can use. I might not have escaped my father’s pack, but maybe I can escape here?
He doesn’t press me for an answer, instead he pulls back, and when he does, there’s a dull ache in my chest. Without him close to me, I feel cold again. Still, I don’t look at him, no matter how much my body is craving that I do. I hear the rustle of fabric as he begins getting dressed, no doubt. When I peek a look over, he’s acting like this was casual.
Forcing myself to sit up, I winch slightly at the soreness between my legs. It’s not as bad as last night, at least, so I ignore it. I also don’t want him to see it as a weakness; I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’s affected me.
He continues to watch me, his gaze lingering as he fastens his shirt buttons. After the longest pause in the world, he shifts and faces me, looking ready to speak.
“Get yourself ready,” he says simply. “It’s time you met the pack, learnt the rules and were told of your place here.”
My stomach twists.
“Meet me outside when you’re ready,” he explains, then turns and walks toward the door. This time, he walks out without stopping and closes the door behind him.
Exhaling slowly, I pull the sheets up around my body. He said the pack, so he does have a pack, and he’s not a rogue? Why would he lie about being a rogue to so many packs? It makes no sense at all.
I should feel relieved that he has left the room, but I don’t. There’s a dull ache in my chest, and I’m not sure why it’s there. I can’t focus on it now. Instead, I push myself up and shower before getting dressed and walking outside to where he said to meet him.
A Pull
When I step outside, I take in my surroundings. This is more than a pack, there are homes and a farm. This isn’t a normal pack; this is far more in–depth and far more luxurious. Who is Xander Voss? He’s not a rogue, he’s not weak, he’s powerful. He has a whole damn pack.
Not just a pack, but a city almost. I’m lost and confused right now. It’s like he’s keeping something deeper hidden behind his rogue story. Who would want to act like a rogue and be treated as one? No one would. Well, except for Xander, that is.
