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He pulled my shirt up and over my head in one quick and smooth move. My skin prickled with the slight chill to the air, stark against the inferno that Elliot had sparked over every inch of my body.
Elliot sucked an audible breath through his teeth as his eyes feasted on my tits.Feasted.
I had nice tits. I was used to men appreciating them. But never in the way Elliot was, as if he were committing them to memory so he could sculpt them later.
He was looking at me like I was a masterpiece, and he hadn’t even gotten me fully naked yet.
My arms were starting to ache from where I’d kept them up, so I began to bring them to my sides.
Elliot’s eyes smoldered at my movement.
“Did I tell you you could move?” His voice was smooth, deep and commanding.
I blinked at the sentence, completely caught unaware at the hint of darkness to it. I licked my lips, instantly liking it, loving that he had the ability to surprise me. Clearly, he had hidden depths. I wanted to swim in them. Drown in them.
I kept a rebellious stare locked on his eyes, sending my hands downward. Hooking them around the waistband of my pants and panties, I bent to take them both off. It was what I was used to, what I needed to do to regain control of this ship. Take charge, show the man I was setting the pace. That I dictated what parts of my body, what parts of myself I did and didn’t show.
The second I kicked my pants away, standing naked in front of a fully-clothed Elliot but feeling like I had the upper hand, Elliot’s hand circled both of my wrists, making my small bones feel delicate under his grip but not tightening anywhere near the point of pain.
He leaned in, his breath hot on my face, his stormy eyes electric as they zeroed in on me with a commanding aura.
“You do what I tell you,” he whispered, menace and mischief in his tone.
I smiled at him, willing to play the game. For now. Doing what I was told was not regularly something that turned me on, but I was already soaked for him.
Elliot held my gaze for a bit longer, then he got on his knees. He grasped the back of my thigh, lifting it to hook it over his shoulder, to get better access to my pussy. Which he then laid his mouth on.
My head slammed into the back of the wall, shock and pleasure battling for control of my emotions. I’d expected some kind of teasing, working his way there. I’d taken Elliot as a measured man, one who would be polite in the bedroom.
Which meant I didn’t expect his brutal assault. His mouth worked me expertly, relentlessly, not building me up to a slow climax but sending one rushing at me with an intensity that shook my world.
His mouth didn’t halt as waves of rapture threatened to buckle my knees, a lot of my weight pressing onto his shoulder.
He steadied me with a hand on my hip, the grip firm, reassuring… Nice.
Shuddering with aftershocks and finding the ability to see beyond the stars in my vision, I looked down at the blond head of hair which tilted upward to show Elliot’s face, a mask of desire. Of hunger.
“Your pussy tastes exactly as I imagined.” His hoarse voice cut through the thrashing in my ears. “Honey and spice.” I almost came again when he licked his lips sensually.
I swallowed, unable to find some smart or quirky retort.
I barely remembered my own name.
In a slow blink, he was up, kissing me, giving me my own taste on my lips. Again, something I had never previously been into, but I reveled in it with Elliot.
The kiss went on long enough for me to regain some feeling in my limbs, Elliot circling my neck with his hand as he released me, hovering inches from my face.
His gaze roved over my naked body, lazily appraising me, leaving fire in the wake of his eyes. “Take me to your bedroom.”
Part of me wanted him to fuck me right there against the wall, even though I didn’t like my chances of being able to sustain my own weight for an extended period of time. That would make it clear what we were doing. Impersonal fucking. Scratching an itch.
Being in a bedroom, my bedroom… It changed the dynamics. I didn’t know if Elliot knew that or if he just wanted to be horizontal.
I could’ve pressed the issue. I might have if I had enough energy to argue. And if I was breathing, that meant I had enough energy to argue. But when he let me go, I grasped his hand, and naked, I led him into my bedroom, each footfall heavier than the last, the pounding of my heart an echo in my ears.
Once inside, I turned to face him. His eyes quickly darted around the room to assess the surroundings, zeroing in on me after a handful of seconds. As if I were a magnet, as if he couldn’t stand not looking at me. As if nothing in the world was more important.
My breathing quickened as I felt butterflies at his stare.Butterflies. As if I wasn’t a grown woman and his mouth hadn’t been on my pussy a few minutes ago. Butterflies were for teenagers, virgins, and hopeless romantics. I was none of those things. Yet the flutter in my stomach remained.