Xavier caught both of Calypso's wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head against the silk sheets. His free hand traced down the curve of her throat, lingering where her pulse fluttered like a trapped bird beneath his fingertips. The sensation of her skin—impossibly soft yet burning with divine heat—sent electricity racing through his veins.
"Adequate, huh?" His thumb pressed gently against her parted lips, her breath hot and uneven against his skin. He savored the way her chest rose and fell rapidly, the perfect column of her throat working as she swallowed.
Calypso's pink eyes—still glowing with residual divinity—flashed with mischief. She nipped at his thumb, teeth scraping just hard enough to sting, then, without breaking eye contact, sucked the digit into her mouth. Her tongue swirled in slow, deliberate circles, the wet heat making his breath catch. Each stroke of her tongue was a promise, a challenge, a declaration of war.
Oh, we're playing that way.
