Nana practically bounced through the front door, her art supplies still clutched in her arms, her face flushed with excitement.
"Xavier! I'm home!"
She found him on the couch where she'd left him that morning—reading, naturally. He looked up from his book, his blue eyes soft as they tracked her energetic movements.
"How was class?" he asked, setting the book aside.
"Amazing! Mina showed me this new watercolor technique, and then we talked about movies during break, and she told me about this French film that just came out—" She dropped her supplies on the table and plopped down beside him, still bouncing with enthusiasm. "It's supposed to be super romantic! There's this scene with a French kiss that everyone's talking about. The actor is apparently really good at it."
Something flickered in Xavier's eyes—something dark and predatory that was quickly shuttered behind his usual calm expression.
"A French kiss," he repeated neutrally.
"Yeah! Mina said it was the most romantic thing she'd ever seen in a movie." Nana turned to face him fully, her eyes bright with innocent curiosity. "We should watch it this weekend! The actor—I think his name is Laurent something—he's supposed to be really talented. Mina couldn't stop talking about how perfect the scene was."
Xavier's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "You want to watch another man kiss someone. On our weekend."
"Well, yeah! It's supposed to be really educational. Like, about technique and—" She paused, tilting her head. "Wait, what even is a French kiss exactly? Is it different from regular kissing?"
The book in Xavier's hand closed with a soft thud. When he looked at her again, his eyes had gone dark—pupils dilated, that sleepy softness replaced with sharp focus.
"You don't know what a French kiss is," he said slowly.
"Should I?" She blinked at him innocently. "I mean, we kiss all the time, but I don't know if we've done a *French* kiss specifically. Is there a difference?"
"There is." He set the book on the coffee table with deliberate care. "And you want to learn from watching some actor named Laurent."
"I mean, if he's really good at it—"
"He's not."
Nana blinked at the flatness in Xavier's tone. "You haven't even seen the movie—"
"I don't need to." Xavier shifted, and suddenly he was much closer, his hand coming up to cup her jaw. "Because I'm going to teach you myself. Right now."
"Oh." Her breath caught. "You know how to French kiss?"
His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Starlight, I'm your husband. Of course I know how." His thumb traced her lower lip. "And I'm certainly not going to let you learn from watching some French actor who's never even touched you."
"Xavier, are you... jealous?"
"No." The answer came too quickly. "I simply think that if my wife wants to learn something, she should learn it from me. Not from a movie. Not from some man named Laurent who's apparently 'really talented.'"
She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "You are jealous."
"I'm practical." But his grip on her jaw tightened slightly. "Now, do you want to learn, or do you want to keep talking about other men?"
Heat flooded through her at his tone. "Teach me."
"Good girl." He pulled her onto his lap in one smooth motion, positioning her so she straddled him. "A French kiss is when you use your tongue. It's deeper, more intimate than regular kissing. More..." His eyes dropped to her lips. "Possessive."
"Show me," she whispered.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her down until their lips were barely touching. "Open your mouth for me."
She did, and he claimed her mouth with an intensity that made her gasp. His tongue swept past her lips, tangling with hers, exploring every inch of her mouth with deliberate thoroughness.
This was nothing like their usual kisses. This was demanding, consuming. His tongue moved against hers, teaching her the rhythm, showing her how to respond. When she tentatively touched her tongue to his, he groaned into her mouth.
He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against her lips. "That's a French kiss. That's what Laurent would never be able to show you because you're *mine* and no one else gets to touch you like this."
"Xavier—"
"Do you understand?" His hand tightened in her hair. "Fiction, real, alive, dead, not even born yet—I don't care. No other man gets your attention like this. Not in movies, not in books, not in your head."
"You're really jealous," she breathed, equal parts amused and aroused.
"I'm territorial." He kissed her again, harder this time. "There's a difference."
His hands slid under her shirt, and she realized with a start that this lesson was about to become much more thorough.
"I thought we were just learning about French kissing—"
"We are." His fingers found her bra clasp, undoing it with practiced ease. "But I think you need a comprehensive lesson. So you never feel the need to learn from anyone else. Ever."
He stripped her shirt and bra off in one fluid motion, and his mouth immediately moved to her neck, biting down possessively.
"Xavier!" She gasped at the sharp pleasure-pain.
"Marking you," he murmured against her skin. "So when you go to art class tomorrow, everyone knows you're taken. So Mina knows not to suggest movies with 'talented' actors anymore."
"That's—that's not fair—"
"Life's not fair, starlight." His mouth moved lower, closing around one nipple. "But I'm going to make sure you forget all about Laurent and his 'perfect' kissing."
His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak while his hand cupped her other breast, thumb brushing over her nipple in maddening circles. She squirmed in his lap, feeling him harden beneath her.
"Still thinking about that movie?" he asked, looking up at her with dark eyes.
"What movie?" she managed breathlessly.
"Good answer." He stood suddenly, carrying her with him. "Bedroom. Now."
"We were on the couch—"
"The couch is for innocent kissing lessons. What I'm about to do to you requires a bed."
He laid her down and stripped off his own clothes with efficiency that would be impressive if she wasn't so distracted by the hunger in his eyes. When he was finally naked, he crawled over her like a predator stalking prey.
"Now," he said, his fingers hooking into her pants and panties, sliding them down in one motion, "I'm going to show you everything that Laurent actor could never do. Because he doesn't know your body. Doesn't know what makes you gasp." His fingers slid between her thighs, finding her already wet. "Doesn't know you're sensitive here."
He circled her clit with maddening lightness, and she arched off the bed.
"Or here." His fingers pressed inside her, curling to hit that spot that made her see stars.
"Xavier—please—"
"Please what? Teach you more? Make you forget about watching other men kiss?" His thumb joined his fingers, working her clit while he pumped into her. "I can do that."
He worked her expertly, building her pleasure with patient precision. Just when she was about to tip over the edge, he withdrew his hand completely.
"No—" she whimpered.
"Not yet." He positioned himself between her thighs, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. "I want you to come on me. Want to feel it."
He pushed inside in one slow, deliberate thrust, and they both groaned. When he was fully seated, he stilled, his forehead dropping to hers.
"Mine," he said simply. "Say it."
"Yours," she gasped.
"Again."
"Yours, Xavier. Only yours."
"That's right." He pulled back and thrust in hard, setting a deep, grinding pace. "Not Laurent's. Not any actor's. Mine."
His jealousy fueled every thrust, every touch. His hands gripped her hips possessively, pulling her onto him with each movement. His mouth found hers again, kissing her deeply—French kissing her, she realized—while he moved inside her.
"This is what you wanted to learn?" he asked against her lips. "How to kiss like this? How to feel like this?"
"Yes—god, yes—"
"Then pay attention." He sat back on his heels and pulled her up with him, positioning her in his lap so she was straddling him, impaled on his cock. "Now ride me. Show me what you've learned."
She began to move, rising and falling on him while his hands guided her hips. The position let him go so deep, hit angles that made her gasp with every movement.
"Look at you," he murmured, his eyes tracking every expression on her face. "Bouncing on my cock like you were made for it. So beautiful. So mine."
His hand slid between them to find her clit, and the additional stimulation made her movements falter.
"Don't stop," he commanded. "Keep riding me. I want to watch you fall apart."
"I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." His fingers circled faster. "You're strong enough. Brave enough. Now give me what's mine."
The combination of his cock filling her, his fingers on her clit, and the possessive heat in his eyes pushed her over the edge. She came with a cry of his name, her body clenching around him rhythmically.
"Perfect," he groaned, watching her face as pleasure crashed through her. "So perfect when you come for me. Only me."
He let her ride out her orgasm before flipping their positions, pressing her into the mattress as he chased his own release. His thrusts became harder, more desperate.
"Going to fill you," he panted. "Mark you from the inside. Make sure you remember who you belong to."
"Xavier—"
"Say you won't watch that movie."
"I won't—I won't watch it—"
"Say you don't need Laurent or any other man."
"I don't—I only need you—"
"Good girl." He buried himself deep and came with a groan, spilling inside her with pulse after pulse.
They collapsed together, breathing hard. Xavier immediately pulled her against his chest, his arms wrapping around her possessively. Even in the aftermath, he couldn't seem to let her go.
"You know," Nana said after a long moment, "you could have just said you were jealous."
"I wasn't jealous." But his arms tightened around her. "I was... concerned about your education."
"Uh-huh." She traced patterns on his chest. "Very educational. I learned a lot about French kissing. And other things."
"Good." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "So you won't need to watch that movie now."
"Actually..." She felt him tense beneath her. "I think I should watch it. Just to compare technique. See if Laurent really is as good as Mina said—"
Xavier flipped her onto her back in one smooth motion, settling between her thighs again. His eyes were dark with renewed heat.
"Round two," he said simply. "Since you apparently need more lessons."
"Xavier!" She laughed, even as arousal sparked through her again. "I was joking—"
"I'm not." He was already hard again, already pressing against her entrance. "I'm going to keep teaching you until you forget that actor's name. Forget the movie exists. Forget everything except how I make you feel."
And he did. Twice more that night, until she was trembling and oversensitive and could barely remember her own name, let alone some French actor's.
When they finally collapsed for the last time, thoroughly exhausted, Xavier held her close and murmured into her hair, "Still want to watch that movie?"
"What movie?" she mumbled, already half-asleep.
She felt him smile against her temple. "That's what I thought."
And the next morning, when Mina asked if she wanted to go see the French film that weekend, Nana smiled and said, "No thanks. I already learned everything I needed to know about French kissing."
The bite marks on her neck said as much.
Xavier wasn't jealous, of course.
He was just... thorough in his teaching methods.
Very, very thorough.
⭐⭐⭐