The pressure bloomed first—warm, intense, and sudden.
Desire followed close behind, crashing through his body before he could brace himself. It was the kind of longing that left no room for thought. No space for breath. As if the haze that once threatened to consume Xavier from the inside had finally begun to break, only to stir something deeper in its place.
And whatever it was, it was searching.
Desperate. Instinctive. Reaching for something familiar.
If it could just find it again, then maybe the chaos would stop. Maybe the ache would quiet.
But that hunger had consequences.
Because it caught one hardworking wife off guard.
The little guide had been focused—head down, hand working in sync with the slow glide of his lips and tongue along his husband's rigid length in a slow and sensual rhythm—guiding without hesitation as his breath warmed the skin he worshipped.
