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He eased up with his teeth, replacing them with an equally vicious tongue. It circled and flicked, teased and taunted, then let its enamel cousins resume their relentless nibbling.
I didn’t protest or fight then. The shock waves were too much to resist.
It felt like my body was a volcano and every nip caused yet another eruption.
Wait, that was a terrible analogy. There was no erupting. Not yet.
Just when I thought my nipple might be raw for weeks, his head dipped lower, and he licked and kissed his way to my belly button. I tried squirming, gripping his hair—fucking buzzed shit that wasn’t long enough to grip. I even tried scooting up so he couldn’t—
“Oh, crap, El—”
His mouth closed around the head of my cock.
I arched back.
His hand gripped my balls, pulling them gently down so the skin of my dick pulled taut and the whole thing hardened beyond reality.
Then he took my length down his throat until I was sure I’d struck a lung.
Elliot didn’t gag.
He didn’t flinch.
Hell, he didn’t even slow.
Up and down, his head bobbed. My shaft appeared, then disappeared.
So slow.
So hot and wet.
Pleasure streaked through me as his other hand reached up and twisted my nipple while he sucked me deeper and deeper.
The clashing cymbals of pleasure and pain were almost too much.
“El, I want you inside me. Fuck, I need you deep inside.”
“Condom?” he asked in his no-nonsense manner.
“Bedroom. Nightstand. So far away.”
He slathered a finger with spit, then slid it between my cheeks.
“OH!”
There was no circling or exploring or—fuck—warming up.
Elliot shoved his meaty power pole worker’s forefinger into my ass, hitting my prostate on his first stab.
It was a stab.
There’s no other word for it.
All the breath in my bodywhooshedout, leaving my eyes bugged out and hands gripping throw pillows.
“El, damn, you’re gonna have to go easy when you . . . fuck . . . God, that feels good . . .”
His hot breath tickled my ear as he leaned down and whispered in the sexiest, deepest, Barry White voice, “I’ve got you, Mike. Let go. I’ll catch you.”