She Would Be Mine Tonight

Xavier Collen.

His name carried a reputation that preceded him, leaving a trail of trembling whispers and smoldering gazes wherever he went.

Women spoke of him in reverent tones, their voices laced with desire and envy. His presence alone could reduce even the most self-assured women to quivering puddles, eager to be consumed by the magnetic pull of his dominance.

Xavier was unapologetically himself—a sex addict who thrived on indulgence, pleasure, and control. He knew exactly how to treat women, how to make them melt under his touch, and that made him irresistible.

But he had rules, strict ones. Once a woman found her way to his bed, she never got a second invitation. He was possessive, yes, but never repetitive.

His appetite demanded variety, and yet, they always came back, pleading for another taste of him. Pleading for him to fuck them badly, pleading for answers to why he doesn't fuck a woman twice.

Why? Why did he never return to them? He never answered. He didn’t need to.

And yet, for all his experiences, nothing—no one—had ever made him feel like this. Not until the night Vivian walked into the club.

From the moment she stepped through the doors, it was as though the air shifted. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, nor the most provocatively dressed, but there was something about her that gripped him by the throat and wouldn’t let go.

Her dress hugged her in all the right places, clinging to her curves as though it envied his hands. The soft sway of her hips, the way her head tilted back when she laughed—it was intoxicating. It wasn’t lust.

No, this was something deeper, more primal, more urgent. And Xavier didn’t like it. He didn’t like how his eyes couldn’t leave her, how his chest tightened when another man approached her, smiling too brightly. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and he wasn’t one to resist the burn.

So he followed her every move, his sharp eyes tracking her across the dimly lit room. She didn’t seem to notice him watching, which only frustrated him more.

How could she not feel his gaze searing into her? When she stood and made her way to the restroom, his instincts prickled, a strange sense of unease stirring in his gut.

That’s when he noticed him—the man who slipped in after her. A man who didn’t belong there, whose predatory gaze made Xavier’s blood simmer.

The air around him seemed to crackle as he stood, his jaw tightening. Something’s not right.

He moved swiftly, his strides long and purposeful as he made his way toward the restrooms. He pushed past the throbbing crowd, their laughter and music fading into the background.

When he reached the door, his ears caught the faint sound of muffled protests, of a struggle. The heat that always simmered beneath his surface ignited into a full-blown blaze.

Without hesitation, Xavier shoved the door open.

What he saw turned his vision red.

Sky was pinned against the cold tile wall, her dress torn at the straps, the fabric slipping to reveal the curve of her bare chest.

Her eyes were wide, frantic, tears streaming down her face as she squirmed under the weight of the man pinning her down. His hands were on her, rough and cruel, one gripping her wrist while the other fumbled to hike her dress further up.

Rage consumed him.

“Get the hell away from her, you fucking lunatic!” Xavier’s voice thundered through the small space, low and menacing, a growl that reverberated off the walls.

Andrew barely had time to turn before Xavier’s fist collided with his jaw, a sickening crack echoing through the room.

The force of the blow sent Andrew sprawling to the floor as he collapsed Xavier and didn't stop. He didn’t even think if he was dead.

Sky lay on the floor, trembling, her breath uneven, her eyes squeezed shut as if to block out the reality of what had just happened. Her dress had shifted in the chaos, exposing more of her than intended.

Her huge fat titties were visible. Xavier crouched beside her, his presence dominating the space between them. His hands were gentle yet firm as he reached out, adjusting the top of her dress with careful precision.

His fingers brushed against her breasts, the softness startling him. His jaw clenched as an involuntary surge of heat coursed through him. He felt his cock growing hard and thick.

He cursed inwardly, his mind rebelling against the betrayal of his body. Not now, he thought darkly, forcing himself to focus. How was it possible that she had this effect on him? No woman had ever unraveled him this way, not since Abigail had shattered his heart by betraying him with his twin brother, Christopher.

"Are you alright?" His voice, deep and laden with suppressed anger, was barely above a whisper, but it carried a raw intensity that made Sky's eyes flutter open.

"Did he touch you? Did he lay a hand on you?" His voice grew sharper, his words vibrating with a rage he was barely containing. He scanned her from head to toe, his gaze sharp, protective, and yet, betraying a flicker of something deeper—something primal.

Her breathing hitched under his scrutiny, and his eyes lingered a moment too long on the curve of her body.

He couldn't help it. The swell of her chest rising and falling, the delicate line of her neck, the way her dress hugged her frame. When his gaze dropped lower, his throat tightened.

The way her dress clung to her hips left little to the imagination, and that—that ass. Damn it. His jaw tightened as his imagination ran wild despite his best efforts to rein it in.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his thoughts betraying him again. Images flooded his mind—his hands gripping her waist, her body pressed flush against his, her breath warm against his neck as she rode his cock like a fucking slut.

His throat went dry, and he forced himself to shake off the thoughts clawing at his resolve. Focus, Xavier. She needs you.

Sky sat up slowly, her body still trembling, her voice barely a whisper as she spoke. "He didn’t touch me. You stopped him before he could." Her words were laced with gratitude, her wide eyes meeting him for the first time.

A soft light flickered in them, and something inside Xavier twisted. He didn’t know if it was relief, rage, or something far more dangerous.

"Are you sure?" His voice dropped, softer now, but still firm. "If he did anything, I swear—" He stopped himself, his fists clenching at the thought of what he would have done if that bastard had hurt her. He didn’t need to finish his sentence for Sky to understand the storm raging within him.

Their eyes locked again, an intense connection sparking between them, making the air thick with unspoken tension.

Xavier stared into her hazel eyes, captivated. He had never seen such mesmerizing eyes, ones that seemed to hold a world of pain, strength, and innocence all at once.

They were stunning, and they hit him like a freight train. Something primal awakened within him—a dark, insatiable need he hadn’t felt in years.

The stirring heat coursing through his body betrayed him as his thoughts took a dangerous turn. Fuck.

His body responded to her in ways he hadn’t anticipated, his arousal pressing uncomfortably against the confines of his jeans.

He didn’t even know her name, yet she had him utterly undone. His mind wandered to thoughts he shouldn’t entertain, images of her beneath him, her body writhing, her lips parted in breathless pleasure. He clenched his fists, trying to rein in his spiraling desires. Get it together.

“What do you want me to do to him?” Xavier's voice dropped, gravelly and laced with rage. His jaw clenched as he tilted his head toward her, the intensity in his gaze almost overwhelming.

“Just say the word. I’ll do it. I’ll cut his dick off myself and watch him bleed to death. He has no fucking right to lay a hand on you, let alone force himself on you.”

Sky flinched at the venom in his words, her lips parting in shock. She stared at him, this stranger who had appeared out of nowhere, speaking with such conviction it left her shaken.

His words weren’t hollow; she could tell he meant every syllable. His anger was a tempest, threatening to consume anyone in its path, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if she should feel terrified or safe.

“No, please,” she finally managed to whisper, shaking her head, her voice trembling. “Don’t do that. It’s too much. Don’t hurt him. Don’t…don’t kill him.

“Just take him to the police.” Her hands fidgeted nervously as she spoke, her fingers toying with the hem of her dress, which had ridden up far too high during the scuffle. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she struggled to tug the fabric down, but it was tight, unyielding. She felt exposed, vulnerable.

Xavier's eyes followed her movement, and something in him shifted when he noticed her struggle. Without hesitation, he leaned closer, his hands brushing hers as he moved to help her adjust the dress.

The moment his fingers accidentally grazed her panties, a sharp breath escaped him, and he froze. The touch had been unintended, but the effect was instantaneous.

He sucked in a breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His mind betrayed him again, flashing images of her flushed and writhing beneath him, and he cursed under his breath.

Her breath hitched at the accidental contact, and her hand shot out, gripping the front of his shirt. Her body betrayed her just as much as he betrayed him.

A warmth spread through her, pooling low in her belly, and she felt a shameful wetness beginning to gather. She looked up at him, wide-eyed and stunned by the pull he had on her.

She didn’t even know his name, yet her body responded to him as though they’d known each other for years.

Xavier recovered first, shaking off the haze clouding his mind. With a firm yet gentle tug, he managed to adjust the hem of her dress, smoothing it down as best as he could despite its inadequate length.

Once done, he stood and pulled his phone from his pocket, his fingers flying over the screen as he made a call.

“Ladson,” he barked into the phone to Ladson bouncer, his voice cold and authoritative. “Get to the ladies’ room. Take care of this mess. Andrew needs to learn what happens when he crosses the line. Handle him, and when you’re done, throw him out onto the street.” He paused, his tone darkening. “Do what’s necessary.”

The phone snapped shut, and he shoved it back into his pocket. His words sent a chill down Vivian’s spine. She blinked up at him, confusion and apprehension written all over her face. “What…what do you mean by ‘do what’s needful’? What are they going to do to him?”

Xavier turned back to her, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he said, his voice softer now but still carrying that edge of danger. “He won’t hurt you—or anyone else—again. Let me get you a drink.

**

When they reached the bartender, Xavier’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smirk. He ordered drinks for both of them—a whiskey for himself, something softer for Skye. His voice was smooth, controlled, but there was a dark undertone laced in it, like a predator patiently setting a trap.

As they waited for their drinks, his gaze lingered on her, taking in the soft curve of her lips, the delicate way her fingers toyed nervously with the edge of her glass. Skye was beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly unaware of the thoughts brewing within him.

He knew what he was doing. Every move, every glance, every subtle brush of his hand against her skin—it was all calculated.

Xavier despised men who preyed on women, who treated them as conquests, and yet, as he stood there beside her, he felt a twisted irony in his intentions. He wanted Skye, craved her on his bed as she sucked his dick.

And he would fuck her tonight.