The Girl He Marked by Laila Callaway novel Chapter 2

Lexi's POV.

Rixon steps into his room and gently puts me down, careful to slide my body along the length of his. I quickly squirm out of his arms and rush into the bathroom before he can try to kiss me, I want to clean my teeth first. We get ready for bed next to each other, cleaning our teeth in unison as we watch each other's reflections in the mirror. I get a giddy feeling about this being our first proper sleepover, I feel like a kid.

Trying to escape the predatory look in his eyes, I unpack my bag and busy myself with taking my make—up off. I feel his eyes on me and I turn to find Rixon watching me with a sinful smirk on his gorgeous face, a smirk promising trouble and orgasms.

Without breaking eye contact, Rixon pulls his t—shirt off, that weird way that men do, pulling from the back of the neck. I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing his naked chest, covered in swirling patterns of black ink.

I swallow hard when his large hands drop to his waist and start undoing his jeans. I'm unable to look away as he pushes them down to reveal an impressive tent in his black boxers. He kicks the jeans away and steps towards me, I hurriedly finish taking my make—up off and throw the wipe in the bin. When I turn back around, I jump as Rixon is now inches away, looming over me.

He doesn't say a word as he lifts my dress up over my head, I raise my arms to help him, resisting the urge to cover myself. He unclips my bra, throwing it to one side whilst leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. I chew nervously on my bottom lip, trying not to moan whilst he tortures my nipples with his tongue and hand.

I don't try to resist when he pushes me down, so I fall back on the bed. I look up at him, the lust in my eyes mirroring his own. He leans down over me, kissing down my neck, so I tangle my fingers in his hair.

'How often do you touch yourself' He asks, surprising me.

'Um, why'

'Because your orgasms belong to me now, I don't want you touching yourself, that's my job,' he remarks possessively, pressing kisses to my inner thighs. I don't respond because his mouth latches around my clit and I can't form a single thought.

A few hours after falling asleep, I roll over to see the sun has started to rise and bathes the room in a gentle golden glow. I slide slowly out of bed, careful not to wake Rixon. Feeling restless, I decide to get myself a drink, but I didn't bring any pajamas, there's no need for them with Rixon around. I tiptoe over to the chest of drawers and pull open a couple until I find one full of sweatpants, underneath the pile is a set of blue stripy pajamas.

For some reason I can't really picture him wearing them, perhaps that's why they're hidden at the bottom.

I pull on the shirt and button it up, I try on the bottoms, but they fall down, the waist is far too wide. Deciding to forego the bottoms because the top comes to almost my knees, I sneak a quick glance back at Rixon, who is on his back, his arm resting on the pillow above his head.

I creep out of the room and downstairs; the house is lit up enough with sunlight that I don't have to turn the lights or worry about stumbling into things. I pour myself a glass of water, grimacing as I see the clock, 406 am. I sit down on the window seat, looking out at the garden.

What am I going to do about the Rixon situation