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Quickly changing the subject, I threw in the question, “So howarethings going with you and Leanna?”
He laughed at how skillfully I’d changed topics, and we got to talking about my sister. I shared some of my favorite stories of the two of us growing up, which were sure to get me into trouble with Leanna later. And from the corners of my eyes, I continued to keep an eye on Elijah as he continued to put himself through his paces on the machines of his leg day.
At the end of his routines, Elijah, with a towel over his shoulders, came over to us and said, “You know, Ben, she’s working out on my dime, here. Do you think I can get a refund or a discount since she’s spending so much of her time shooting the breeze with you?”
I gave Elijah a playful swat on the arm as Ben laughed again.
Ben mentioned, “I was just thinking of how I’m going to have to start changing up my schedule a bit, turn over some time to other trainers.”
“Why’s that?” Elijah asked. “Anything wrong?”
“Nothing wrong,” said Ben. “I’m just going to have to work out more time to see Leanna. You know about how being interested in someone changes the old priorities…”
They gave each other a fist bump. “Sure do, buddy. That’s the best reason to change, isn’t it?”
I liked the sound ofthat.
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That evening, I had the rare experience of having a perfectly ordinary take-out dinner in the much better-than-ordinary setting of a billionaire’s penthouse.
Elijah and I sat on his couch with a fire in the fireplace, the most vividly orange and purple sunset in his big living room windows, and a coffee table full of empty dinner containers and an empty bottle of Elijah’s best wine, very full and very satisfied with our meal. Except for where we happened to be sitting and how breathtakingly gorgeous Elijah was, you would have taken us for a perfectly ordinary couple.
I pictured him in this same situation with Kathleen. She was such a stunner, it seemed to me that when they were together, she must have looked much more in her element here than I did.
And yet, here he was, not with his model-perfect ex, but with me. Boys and men had always thought I was pretty, but I was no Kathleen. Still, it was me here with Elijah. Just little old me. Not bad for a girl from Youngstown.
“What are you thinking?” Elijah asked.
I answered honestly. “I was thinking about Kathleen.”
He looked a bit perplexed and just slightly worried. “Why Kathleen?”
“We both had problems with your past. She couldn’t get over it. If she could have gotten over it, it would be her with you now, wouldn’t it?”
“She couldn’t, and it’s not Kathleen with me now. It’s you.” He touched my hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Somehow, everything works out, even if you don’t understand the reasons why things are the way they are at first.”
An impulse took me over. It may have come partly from the food or the wine, but it came mostly just from him; just from how beautiful Elijah was and how trulygoodElijah was. Spurred on by that impulse, I reached over, grabbed him by the shirt collar, pulled him to me, and kissed him. It was a long, hard kiss, a kiss with a message.
When the kiss died down and we parted, Elijah stayed close, with a crackle in his eyes to match the crackle behind the damper of the fireplace. He got the message, for sure.
“We’d better take this to another room,” he said.
_______________
There was no place to go from there except to his bed. Even more delicious and satisfying than the take-out meal was the banquet of Elijah’s body, for which I was more hungry than I’d ever been for anything else.
I wanted every luscious muscle of him, every part of him from his hair to his toes, the fleshy hills of his ass, the length and girth of his cock, the round succulence of his balls, and the thick white dollops of his cum. All of him, all over my boobs and buttocks, and as deep inside my pussy as he could go. Elijah lived to fuck and I lived for him to fuck me.
It was another time when we wanted his cock and my pussy together that we couldn’t be bothered with foreplay. It was about the fucking, as we both knew beyond a doubt that it always would be.
I was on my back on his bedspread, head on the pillows, legs apart, which was the way I could enjoy him best. He was on his knees between my parted thighs, and lifted them up to enclose him. Elijah moved the head of his cock up and down the folds of my opening, making that fleshy tip wet and slippery with my moisture and stoking the fire of my need for his big, long, thick tool.
“You want this cock?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered back with all my desire. “Please.”
Continuing to tease my opening, he whispered, “Where do you want this fucking hard cock?”