Page 129 of Pervade Montego Bay
My shirt was hoisted above my breasts and he pinched my nipples, his head between my thighs. He ran his tongue along my clit and there came a rush of pleasure.
He planted kisses on my sex, each time repeating “I love you.”
“Oh, yes.”
“You’re supposed to say I love you back.”
“I love you back.” It made me giggle.
“The word ‘back’ is redundant.”
“Stop it.” I laughed.
He tickled me. “You’re a miracle, Emily.”
A bolt of lightning lit up the sky.
Xavier pulled back and beamed at me. “See, even God concurs.”
I laughed with joy, and then arched my back as he went down on me again, the pleasure edging me closer to release as his tongue teased me, his hands kneading my swollen breasts.
An orgasm snatched away my voice and I let out a thready cry, quivering as my body thrummed like an instrument played to perfection, my fingernails digging into his shoulders as I exhaled shakily.
Xavier sat up and reached for his zipper.
The sound of a ringtone reached our ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.
“Ignore it,” I said.
He raised a finger as he pushed himself up. “Hold that thought.”
Xavier hurried out to answer the phone.
When he didn’t come back after a few minutes, I pushed myself up and padded through the house to find him.
Xavier was leaning against the central island in the kitchen, texting.
“Who was it?”
He looked up at me, shaking his head. “A message from Louis’ butler. That journalist is back at his place.”
“Trevor?”
“Luckily Louis is at the orphanage.” He pinned his stare on me. “That fucker won’t give up.”
Fear slithered beneath my skin. “Why?”
Xavier snapped his phone to his ear. “Ballad? Can you talk? That journalist is at Louis’ place. You might want to stay where you are for a little longer. Yeah, that’s my advice. Make the call.”
Xavier hurried out of the kitchen and returned to the office. I heard him close the door behind him.
My heart thundered in my chest as I replayed Xavier’s words. What the hell were they going to do to that journalist?
Emily
My chest tightened when I read the brass sign on the gate of the orphanage:Victoria Manor.
The red brick architecture and arching windows leant a grand British air to the private school. The campus looked vast from the front.
