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And he doesn’t stop staring.
His silver eyes drag up my body, watching me wrecked and trembling beneath him, and then, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, slowly, like he’s savoring every last taste of me.
He leans over me, his mouth brushing my ear.
And in a voice so wrecked, so raw, he groans, “I need to be inside you. Now.”
And then, he’s unbuckling his belt.
The buckle clinks, sharp and deliberate, the leather sliding free as he tugs it from the loops in one smooth pull. He flicks the button of his pants, lowers the zipper, and then he’s shoving them down just enough to free himself.
My breath catches.
His cock is thick, heavy, flushed deep red with need, standing rigid against his stomach, the head leaking. He looks like he’s in pain, like he’s been holding back for too long.
He fists himself at the base, exhaling hard through his nose, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he gives himself a slow, rough stroke.
Elias grips my hips and pulls me down against him, his cock already thick and hot, pressing at my entrance. The tip teases, sliding against my clit in slow, tormenting drags, spreading his pre-cum over me like he’s marking me before he’s even inside.
I arch beneath him, my thighs flexing around his waist, my breath stuttering out in uneven gasps as he rocks forward, pressing the blunt, swollen head against me, but not pushing in. Not yet.
His hands tighten where they hold me, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hips. Hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to say, he’s barely holding himself back.
Then, voice low and strained, he rasps, “You ready for me, little Binder?”
I don’t answer. I just roll my hips, slick and open, dragging myself over him, feeling every hot, pulsing inch of his cock tease against me.
Elias shudders, curses, then slams inside me in one hard, devastating thrust. I cry out, my body stretching around him, taking him deep, drowning in the sudden, shocking fullness.
His growl tears through the night, his silver eyes squeezing shut as he bottoms out, his cock throbbing inside me, every inch of him thick and unforgiving.
“Fucking hell,” he grits out, his head dropping to my shoulder. “So tight. So perfect. You feel like you were made to take me.”
He pulls out halfway, just to slam back in, hard enough to make my breath punch from my lungs.
Then he does it again.
And again.
Each thrust is brutal, deep, possessive, his hips snapping against mine in rough, punishing strokes that leave me writhing, gasping, digging my heels into his back to pull him even deeper.
Elias groans, his forehead pressing to mine, his breath hot and uneven, his body rolling faster, harder, deeper.
“You like this, don’t you?” he rasps against my lips, his cock dragging against every aching nerve inside me. “You like me fucking you like this.”
I whimper, my fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, because he’s right. Because I need it.
Because I don’t want him to stop.
His pace turns relentless, the muscles in his arms flexing as he holds himself above me, driving into me with a hunger that borders on desperation.
The wet, obscene sounds of our bodies meeting fill the air, mixing with the low, guttural sounds rumbling from his throat as he pounds into me, harder, faster, pushing me to the edge.
Time slows again.
Elias groans, feeling it too, his silver eyes flickering with power as the fire beside us freezes mid-crackle, the embers suspended, the night holding its breath.
And inside me, so does my orgasm.