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Then he lifts his head.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ryder
Iundress Elliot slowly in my bedroom, under the low, liquid gold light from the lamps and she’s so beautiful.
Taking my time, kissing her as I go, I worship every piece of flesh I expose. We don’t speak, not since she said yes to me in the car here, and the ride is a blur of heat and kisses and anticipation and need that still rocks me to my core.
But we don’t need words right now.
Her breasts react under my touch, the nipples beading and tiny goosebumps appear as I trace a path over her ribcage. Elliot makes a tiny sound that, in turn, gets me even harder than I am, but I ignore my physical reaction. I want to immerse myself in her, slowly, completely.
I kiss a path down her body, laving each nipple with my tongue. Her hands come out and grasp me and I keep moving down.
The dress is unzipped, at her hips, and I trail my fingers over the soft swell of her stomach, then I kiss and lick the skin, grazing with my teeth.
Her gardenia scent is twined with arousal and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever had the privilege of inhaling.
I lift my head, looking up and her lip is half caught between her teeth, a blush spreading like blooming flowers over her flesh and her eyes are half shut. She’s an erotic painting, living art, and I drink it in, that image. I horde it deep for safekeeping. And then I rest back on my heels as I pull the dress over her hips.
That juncture, where her pussy lies beneath the scrap of lace and cotton, is damp, and I want it. But more, I want her to be so aroused she’s lost in the moment. I want to see the pleasure rise and I want to explore her taste and heat and wetness. Learn all there is to know about her.
I suspect that will take a lifetime, and right now, that lifetime is worth taking, worth giving, sharing.
Sliding my palm over her pubis, I move down and her thighs part. I push my fingers along each side of the edge of her panties there and oh, yeah, she’s wet. I feel that on my flesh and it makes my hard on almost painful.
But it’s a knife edge of pleasure and pain and anticipation and I remove my hand, pulling her panties down so I can see her. She’s so fucking gorgeous. Those private lips invite and taunt with their dusky color. The line of red downy hair that leads up from where the hood of her clitoris pokes out is sweet. I run my tongue over her there and she cries out, a wavery sound that heads straight south. I lick and kiss and taste, I push my tongue into her, and then I part those lips and slide my finger in, exploring slowly that tight, hot hole.
Her fingers bite hard into my shoulder and she starts to shake, her orgasm coming in, a roll of contractions and she’s gasping, saying my name and then I rise up and she wraps about me, her eyes unfocused, and we kiss, sharing her taste.
I let her strip me, her fingers shaking as she touches and explores. And she sinks down, fingertips dancing along my cock.
“Oh, fuck me.”
My entire body jerks with electric pleasure as her mouth closes over the head of my cock and she sucks me in, down deep to the back of her throat. I want to tell her to stop, I want to fuck her mouth hard. It takes every single drop of willpower I have not to do a damn thing and let her explore me.
She sucks and uses her hand, wrapping it at the base and pulling me back and forth, going so deep with her mouth she’s at her hand, and the base of my cock, and then she’s back, teasing the head, her hand working me and—
“I’m gonna come, you need to stop.”
She doesn’t. Elliot, that evil, wonderful woman that she is, keeps going and as the need pushes me, I come as she takes me all the way in and I almost black out from the hard waves of pleasure that hit me.
Then I have her, pulling her into my arms and I’m kissing her so hard, mouths open, tongues mating in a wild dance.
The kiss slows, morphing back down into slow seduction then back up into urgent need, and I take her to the bed.
I cover her body with mine, her thighs wide, her hips rising up, her sex on offer, and I can’t believe I’m hard already. All over again.
I slowly enter her and we make love. It’s the only way to describe that coming together. It’s not sex. It’s something more. Soft gasps and low moans. A merging of flesh and emotion and I could do this forever, too.
It’s just pure pleasure, building and rebuilding of the urgency, almost reaching the peak until one of us backs down. A tease, a not wanting this to stop.
I don’t know how long we do this, but sometimes she’s riding me, sometimes I’m rocking into her, and finally, finally there’s no way back down, only up and over that edge into pure, intense orgasmic bliss that seems to never end.
After we lay there, just breathing, sprawled and tangled together.
