Page 55

My hands stayed planted on the bar, my head back, the most exposed I’d been to a man in my life, and somehow, I still had all my clothes on.
Elliot didn’t linger for long, the pressure at my scalp letting up as his fingers skated downward to the buttons on my blouse.
“Only reason I’m not decorating this floor with these buttons is that I don’t want you leaving here shirtless.” I stifled a moan as his large fingers deftly undid the first delicate button.
“Do it,” I whispered, reason leaving my body as I skimmed his tee shirt with my eyes. A plan formed. A juvenile, reckless one, but a plan, nonetheless.
Without a second thought, his fingers grasped the sides of the handmade silk blouse, ripping it apart.
As he had promised, buttons went flying, clattering softly onto the floor.
As though magnetized, Elliot’s palms took possession of my peaked nipples, straining through the fabric of my bra.
I gasped at the perfect pressure he used, hand slipping between the lace so I could feel his rough palm against my electrified skin.
He leaned forward to suck through the lace, my sensitive nipples exploding with sensation. I threw my head back in pleasure as he worked one then the other, his hand traveling down to the edge of my panties, teasing me there, brushing against the entrance to my core.
I wriggled against him, my palms still flat on the bar, desperate to tear through his hair, to push his head downward to where I needed him most.
I wasn’t handcuffed. I had agency, was well within my rights to move should I want to. But Elliot had told me not to. And he’d tell me when to move my hands. I wasn’t in control of that. I didn’t have to worry about making choices.
The thought made me sink farther onto the bar, into the moment. What a relief. To be free of choices.
With devastating slowness, Elliot moved down my body, his fingers tracing over every inch of my garters, mimicking the designs in the lace.
It was torture.
It was devastating. Erotic.
He looked up at me. “You have a lot of things like this?” he asked, voice hoarse. His eyes returned to the lace.
I nodded. French lingerie was a guilty pleasure of mine. Among a lot of other things.
“Gonna need to see them. Every single one.”
That was probably when I should’ve clarified that he wouldn’t see them because this was the last time we’d be having sex, but the thought of that caused me physical pain, so I just nodded, desperate to please him.
“I didn’t think I much cared for the finer things in life,” he continued, hands hooking around my panties before lifting my hips upward so he could roll them down. He let out an appreciative grunt once he’d hurled my panties off to some corner of the restaurant.
“But you are the finest thing I’ve ever tasted, and I fear I’ve developed a taste for you.” Before I could process his words, he hooked my legs upward and bent down so he could taste.
Not just taste but feast.
My body curled backward, hips instinctively lifting up toward him as his mouth centered on the perfect spot, coaxing me to the peak of pleasure. Time and space meant nothing. Only Elliot’s fingers pressing into the backs of my thighs, only the cool bar against my palms and the explosive pleasure of his mouth working my pussy.
My climax came intense and fast, with me crying out in abandon. But Elliot didn’t stop. Didn’t give me a second of reprieve, he just kept going mercilessly. A second climax met my first before I could even get my fractured breathing under control.
Elliot took his time to coax me downward, mouth working almost lazily toward the end, the stroke of his tongue against my sensitive flesh making my entire body quiver with aftershocks.
He looked up at me, a blond curl across his head, smoky eyes dancing with unmasked arousal.
“The finest thing in life.” His pink tongue snuck out to lick his plump bottom lip. “This cunt.”
He didn’t give me a second to recover from the statement, from the unyielding pleasure. His grip was firm on my hips as he set me down, kicking bar stools out of the way in order to turn me around.
“Palms on the bar, ass up, legs spread,” he ordered hoarsely.
My ankles ached from the task of keeping myself upright, my limbs like jelly but my body finding it impossible not to heed his command.