Chapter 4: Claiming His Queen
His hand still pressed high between her thighs, Xavier captured Rein's lips again. This kiss wasn't exploration; it was conquest. Deep, hungry, his tongue demanding entry as if claiming territory won on the field. Her fingers tightened in his fresh twists, pulling him closer.
Then his hands moved. Large, calloused palms slid urgently beneath the cropped hem of her Panthers jersey, pushing the thin fabric upwards. His fingers found the tight buds of her nipples instantly, hardened even through the lace of her bra. He rolled the cool metal bars between thumb and forefinger, feeling the pebbled flesh respond, drawing a sharp gasp from her throat into his mouth.
He broke the kiss, breathing ragged. His eyes, dark pools reflecting the candlelight, locked onto hers. "This," he growled, the sound vibrating low in his chest, thick with possession and triumph, "is my reward." Before she could respond, he yanked the jersey up and over her head, baring her breasts to the dim, flickering light. Her silver nipple piercings glinted. He didn't hesitate. His mouth closed hot and wet over one peak, sucking hard, his tongue swirling roughly around the metal ring, then flicking it relentlessly. His free hand kneaded the other breast, thumb grinding over its piercing.
Rein cried out, arching her back off the velvet cushions. Her hands flew from his hair, diving past the loose waistband of his black sweatpants. She found him instantly – thick, hard, straining against the cotton of his boxer briefs. She pushed the fabric aside, wrapping her fingers around his heated length. Her stroke was firm, knowing, thumb brushing the sensitive head. "Fuck, Xav," she moaned, her own voice thick.
He groaned against her breast, the vibration shooting straight to her core. "Yeah, Mama," he rasped, lifting his head, his lips glistening. His hips pushed instinctively into her grip. "Just like that. Feels so goddamn good." His hands slid down her slick sides, gripping the waistband of her skin-tight jeans. "Need you closer. Need all of you."
In one fluid motion, fueled by adrenaline and need, his powerful arms lifted her off the couch. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the polished mahogany table. He set her down firmly on its cool, smooth surface, the city lights a distant backdrop to her flushed skin. Their eyes held – his fierce, possessive; hers dark with desire and unwavering trust.
"Be right back," he breathed, pressing a hard, quick kiss to her lips. He strode to the heavy door, unhooked the small velvet-covered disc from the inner knob, and opened it just enough to hang it decisively on the outer handle. The click of the latch as he closed the door again sounded like a lock turning. Privacy absolute.
He turned back to her, silhouetted against the candles. His gaze swept over her – bare breasts heaving, legs dangling over the edge of the table, the dark denim still clinging low on her hips. He approached slowly, deliberately, stopping just before her. His knuckles brushed her inner thigh.
"Take 'em off, Mama," he commanded, his voice a low rumble that resonated in the intimate silence. "For your King. Now."
Holding his gaze, Rein lifted her hips. Her fingers found the button and zipper of her jeans. She shimmied, pushing the tight denim down over her oiled thighs, past her knees, kicking them off onto the plush carpet. She wore only the tiny black lace panties beneath, the fabric straining over her heat.
Xavier didn't wait. He sank to one knee between her spread legs. His hands gripped her hips. His eyes never left her bare breasts as he leaned in. Not with his hands. With his teeth. He caught the delicate lace edge of her panties near her hip. He tugged, gently at first, then with firm insistence, using his mouth to pull the scrap of fabric down. He repeated the motion on the other side, his lips and teeth grazing her skin as he worked the underwear down her legs until she was free of it. His gaze remained fixed upwards, drinking in the sight above.
He stood. Gripping her hips again, he pulled her forward to the very edge of the table. He sat down in the chair directly in front of her, his broad frame settling between her open thighs. His hands slid under her ass, pulling her flush against him, her wet core hovering inches from his face. The scent of her arousal, musky and primal, filled the small space between them.
"Hold me," he demanded, his voice rough gravel.
Her hands instantly tangled in his locs, fingers gripping tight at the roots near his scalp, anchoring him exactly where she wanted him.
He didn't tease. He dove in. His tongue, broad and demanding, licked a hot, wet stripe straight up her center, finding her swollen clit instantly. He circled the hard bud, relentless pressure around the cool metal of her piercing. Then he sucked. Hard. A sharp, pulling suction that made Rein cry out, her hips snapping forward involuntarily, grinding her pussy hard against his mouth.
"Yeah," he growled against her flesh, vibrating through her. "Just like that. Fuck my face. Show me." He sucked again, deep and greedy, his tongue flicking rapidly against the piercing as he did.
Rein obeyed. Fueled by the sensation, by his command, by weeks of pent-up tension and shared victory, she moved. She rocked her hips forward, grinding her swollen flesh hard against his mouth, riding the pressure of his tongue and the suction of his lips. Her grip on his hair tightened, guiding his head, ensuring his mouth stayed locked onto her clit. The rhythm was rough, demanding – the way he’d taught her he craved, the way that made him groan into her core. Her breath came in ragged gasps, punctuated by low moans. "Oh God, Xav... yes... just like that... don't stop..." Her thighs trembled against his shoulders, the city lights blurring as her head fell back, surrendering to the relentless, claiming heat of his mouth.
Her thighs trembled against his shoulders, the city lights blurring as her head fell back, surrendering to the relentless, claiming heat of his mouth. His tongue flicked her piercing with pinpoint accuracy, the cool metal a sharp counterpoint to the searing wetness. A ragged groan tore from her throat, pure need.
"Touch yourself," Xavier commanded against her flesh, the vibration shooting straight to her core. His voice was muffled, thick with her arousal. "Other hand. Play with that tit for me." He punctuated it with another deep, sucking pull on her clit that made her hips jerk violently forward.
Rein gasped, her hand still fisted in his locs. She obeyed without hesitation. Her free hand slid up her own oiled stomach, fingers finding the hard peak of her other breast. She pinched the nipple, rolling the silver bar sharply between thumb and forefinger, mimicking the sensation he’d given her earlier. A sharp cry escaped her.
He watched her, his dark eyes blazing up at her from between her thighs. Seeing her obey, seeing her touch herself at his command while his mouth devoured her, ignited something feral. "Yeah, Mama," he rasped, his breath hot. "Show me. Show your King." He drove his tongue deeper, lapping hungrily at her swollen opening, tasting her essence, then zeroing back in on her clit piercing with renewed, frenzied focus. The dual sensations – his demanding mouth and her own hand on her breast – sent shockwaves crashing through her.
She arched off the polished wood, back straining. Her fingers twisted the piercing roughly, pulling a gasp from her lips that mixed pain and blinding pleasure. Below, Xavier responded with a guttural sound, his grip tightening on her ass, his tongue working faster, harder. He feasted. The slick sounds filled the candlelit room, mingling with her desperate whimpers and his low growls of satisfaction. He was relentless, spurred on by the visual feast of her pleasuring herself above him.
Her thighs clamped hard around his head, tremors becoming violent shudders. "Xav! Oh God, Xav, I'm—" The warning was cut off as the first convulsion hit. Her pussy clenched violently around his probing tongue, a flood of wet heat gushing against his mouth. She cried out, a raw, guttural sound echoing off the plum walls. Her hand fell from her breast, scrabbling for purchase on the slick tabletop.
He didn't pull back. Didn't relent. He pressed his face deeper, his tongue lapping, sucking, drinking her in as wave after wave crashed over her. He licked every pulse, every tremor, consuming everything she gave him, his groans vibrating against her sensitive flesh. He licked her clean, methodically, possessively, until the last shudder subsided and her body went limp against the table, utterly spent, breathing ragged sobs.
Slowly, he pulled back. His lips and chin glistened in the candlelight. He looked up at her, his eyes holding hers, dark with primal satisfaction and unwavering ownership. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face, mirroring the one he’d worn on the field. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, never breaking her gaze. "That," he breathed, his voice rough, "is my queen."
Rein’s chest heaved, the cool air prickling her sweat-slicked skin. She looked down at Xavier, his lips glistening wetly under the candlelight, his dark eyes locked on hers with fierce pride. A slow, lazy smile spread across her own face, still flushed from release. She leaned forward, her fingers sliding from his hair to cradle his jaw.
Her lips met his, tasting herself—musky, salty, electric—on his tongue. She kissed him deeply, hungrily, licking the remnants of her own pleasure from his mouth. When she pulled back, her breath mingled with his. "Your Queen, baby," she murmured, echoing his claim, her voice husky and sure.
His hands tightened on her hips. In one powerful motion, he lifted her off the cool mahogany tabletop. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he settled back into the plush velvet chair, pulling her down onto his lap, straddling him. Her bare thighs pressed against the soft fabric of his sweats, her wet core hovering just above the hard ridge straining beneath.
Her hand slid between their bodies, fingers slipping beneath the loose waistband of his sweats and briefs. She found him instantly—thick, hot, pulsing against her palm. She pulled him free, wrapping her fingers around his impressive length, her thumb brushing the slick head. He hissed, his head falling back against the chair, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping open, blazing with pure, raw lust.
He watched her, mesmerized, as her hand began to move. Slow, deliberate strokes, base to tip, her thumb swirling over the sensitive crown. His hips pushed up instinctively into her grip. One of his hands slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, while the other traced the damp seam of her pussy lips with a single, calloused fingertip. He slid it slowly up and down, gathering her wetness, the touch feather-light yet maddening.
"Fuck, Mama..." Xavier groaned, his voice thick, strained. His finger pressed slightly deeper, parting her folds. "I want—" He swallowed hard, his gaze locked on hers, vulnerability flickering beneath the hunger. "I want to be in you. So goddamn bad. Feel you wrapped around me."
Rein’s hand stilled on his cock for a heartbeat. Her eyes softened, holding his. "I want that too, Xav," she breathed, her thumb rubbing slow circles on his head. "More than anything right now." She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear. "But if we cross that line... it changes everything. Forever."
He nodded, his jaw clenched tight. His finger continued its slow, torturous slide along her slick heat. "I know," he rasped. "Been thinking... maybe..." He searched her face, his dark eyes intense. "Maybe it wouldn't wreck us. Maybe..." A shaky breath. "Maybe it'd be the best damn thing we ever did. Not the worst."
She held his gaze, the weight of his words settling between them. Her hand resumed its slow stroking, feeling him throb against her palm. The possibility hung heavy in the candle-scented air, potent and terrifying. She thought of the locker room anxieties, the pre-dawn oiling rituals, the way he crumbled only for her. Could they risk it?
After a long moment, Rein pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Then, with fluid grace, she slid off his lap, her bare feet landing silently on the plush carpet. She knelt between his spread legs on the thick rug, the city lights painting faint patterns on her bare skin. She looked up at him, her light brown eyes serious, unwavering.
"We need to think deep," she said, her voice low and calm. "Really deep. Before we go all the way." Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock again, her touch firm, possessive. "But this?" She leaned forward, her breath warm against his heated skin. "This, I’ll do every damn second of the day if you want it, King."
She didn't wait for an answer. Her mouth opened, and she took him in. Deep. No hesitation. Her throat opened effortlessly, swallowing him whole, the thick head nudging the back of her throat. She took all ten inches, her nose pressing against the base of his stomach, her lips sealed tight around him. A guttural groan tore from Xavier’s chest, his hands instantly tangling in her sleek, straightened hair.
She sucked. Hard. Deep pulls that hollowed her cheeks, her tongue pressing firmly along the underside of his shaft. She pulled back slowly, almost entirely off, then plunged down again, taking him deep into her throat once more. Her gag reflex was nonexistent, trained by years of knowing exactly how he craved it. Her head bobbed in a relentless, rhythmic motion, her eyes locked on his face, watching the pleasure contort his features.
"Yeah... fuck... Mama..." Xavier choked out, his hips lifting slightly off the chair, pushing deeper into her welcoming heat. His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her pace, urging her on. "Just like that... suck it... suck your King good..."
She obeyed. Her mouth worked him with fierce dedication, the wet sounds loud in the silent room. She sucked him deep, held him there, swallowed around him, then pulled back to swirl her tongue around the swollen head before plunging down again. She could feel him thickening, pulsing, the tension coiling tight in his powerful thighs pressed against her sides.
"Gonna... Rein..." he gasped, his voice strangled. "Mama... I'm—"
She didn't pull away. She took him deeper still, her throat muscles working, massaging him as he erupted. Thick, hot pulses flooded her throat. She swallowed convulsively, taking every drop, her eyes watering slightly but never closing, never breaking her connection with his stunned, ecstatic gaze. She milked him through it, sucking gently until the last tremor subsided, until he was spent, slumped back in the chair, breathing ragged.
Slowly, she released him, her lips sliding off with a soft, wet sound. She sat back on her heels, looking up at him, a faint sheen on her lips. She swallowed once more, deliberately. "All yours," she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse.
Xavier stared down at Rein, his breaths still ragged clouds in the candlelit air. His eyes, heavy-lidded and dark, held hers – a look stripped raw, a mix of profound satisfaction and something deeper, almost reverent, after her claiming. He reached out, his thumb brushing away a stray moisture trail near her lip, not from tears, but from exertion. "Always mine," he rasped, the confirmation thick in his throat.
He stood, towering over her for a second before bending to gather her discarded clothes. The Panthers jersey felt soft, still warm from her skin. He held it open. "C'mere, Mama." Rein rose smoothly on her knees, letting him pull the jersey back over her head, the fabric catching slightly on her navel ring before settling. She shivered as his knuckles grazed her stomach. He found her lace panties next, a scrap of damp black lace, and held them while she stepped into them, his hands guiding them up her oiled thighs, his touch lingering possessively at the waistband before smoothing the tight jeans back over her hips, buttoning and zipping them with deliberate care.
He adjusted himself quickly within his sweats, the fabric tenting less now but still holding the evidence of recent, profound need. He strode to the heavy door, lifted the velvet disc off the outer handle, and opened it just enough to hang it back neatly on the inside knob. Privacy revoked. He returned, sinking back into the plush velvet embrace of the love seat with a sigh that seemed to release the last of the game-day tension from his shoulders.
His arm curled around her waist, pulling her sideways into him. Her back pressed against his solid chest. His right hand, large and familiar, slid instantly down, finding the seam of her jeans. His palm settled firmly against her, the heel pressing the denim into the heat between her thighs. Not demanding immediate release, but a constant, grounding pressure, a reaffirmation of possession. "Better," he murmured into her hair, breathing in the scent of her scalp, the lingering note of her arousal, and the expensive candle wax.
Rein tilted her head back, seeking his lips. They met in a slow, deep kiss, tasting of salt, shared intimacy, and the lingering richness of the Chardonnay. It wasn't frantic now, but deliberate, exploratory, sealing them back into their private world. "That sack in the fourth quarter," she breathed against his mouth when they finally parted just enough to speak, her hips shifting slightly against the pressure of his hand. "Pure art, baby. Saw it coming three plays before."
He hummed, capturing her lips again. His hand pressed a fraction harder. "Should've had him earlier," he murmured, the words vibrating against her skin between kisses. "Third quarter. That run up the middle? Footwork was shit. Slid right off him." The self-criticism surfaced, a shadow crossing the triumph.
She kissed him deeper, her tongue sliding against his, swallowing the doubt. When she pulled back, her light brown eyes held his fiercely. "One missed tackle doesn't make the game, Xav," she said, her voice low and sure. "You owned that field tonight. Crushed it. They felt you every damn snap." Her hand came up, fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. "Next week, against Philly? You'll be ready. We'll be ready."
He nodded, absorbing her conviction like sunlight. His thumb began a slow, rhythmic circle outside the seam of her jeans, right where she was still sensitive. "Philly's secondary is fast," he conceded, his gaze locked on hers. "Gotta watch the blitz packages. Coach was already talking film tomorrow." He leaned in, kissing her again, slow and deep. "Need you there, Mama," he breathed when they parted. "Need you seeing what I see."
"Always," she whispered, sealing the promise with another kiss, her tongue soft against his. "Every practice. Every game. Every damn step." Her hand slid back to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing his lower lip. "You're built for this, Xav. I believe that." Her hips pressed back against the pressure of his hand. "More than anything."
Their lips met again, a languid tangle of tongues and soft sighs, the conversation flowing seamlessly within the intimate connection. The intensity of their earlier encounter had settled into a deep, resonant hum. Xavier spoke about the adjustments for Philly's defensive ends, his voice a low rumble against her ear while his mouth traced her jawline. Rein countered with observations about their linebacker’s tell on zone coverage, punctuating her points with soft nips to his lower lip. They talked about the roar of the crowd still echoing in his bones, the weight of the Rookie of the Year buzz – exhilarating, terrifying. Through every murmured strategy, every shared ambition, every quiet fear, their lips sought each other, a continuous, grounding circuit.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Marco’s voice, carefully neutral, followed. "Mr. Legette? Your appetizer and entrees."
Xavier didn't break the kiss. His arm tightened around Rein. "Come in," he managed, the words slightly muffled against her lips, his hand still firmly anchored between her thighs.
The door opened. Marco entered, pushing a sleek, silent cart laden with covered dishes and the ice bucket holding the Chardonnay. He didn't flinch at the sight of them entwined on the love seat, Xavier’s hand blatantly possessive on Rein’s upper thigh, their lips locked in a deep, slow kiss that seemed entirely unconcerned with his presence. The scent of seared tuna and rich steak briefly mingled with the beeswax and sex in the air.
With professional detachment, Marco efficiently set the tuna crudo and then their steaming main courses on the low table – the massive, perfectly cooked ribeye beside the glistening black cod. He silently refilled their wine glasses, the pale gold liquid catching the candlelight. He glanced once, discreetly, at the couple still absorbed in each other, then gave a minuscule bow and retreated, the door clicking shut with finality behind him.
The kiss continued. Long, deep, unhurried. Aware of the food, aware of the world intruding, but deliberately choosing to linger in the sanctuary of touch and taste they'd built. Xavier’s thumb pressed its slow circle against her denim-clad core. Rein’s fingers tangled gently in the locs at his nape. The promise hung thick in the air between them, flavored with wine and victory and unwavering belief, sealed again and again by the meeting of their lips. The feast could wait.