Page 93 of Knot Their Starlet

“What? Use your words.” I can practically hear his smirk.

“Please, Eli,” I pant. “Please touch me.”

I stare up into his dark eyes, my gaze roving across his face. There’s a fire there, a spark that tells me how much he’s enjoying this.

It doesn’t feel real.

Have I really been that stupid? That consumed with my own anxiety that I haven’t been able to see what’s right in front of me?

“I love the look of you right now,” he bites out. “All needy and pleading.”

My hips inch closer to him. I feel crazy right now.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this worked up outside of my heat in my entire life. Is it because Eli kind of, in a roundabout way, confessed his feelings? Or is it because I was already worked up from picking up the hints of Andi’s scent?

The memory of Andi’s scent makes my mouth water at the thought of being sandwiched between them both. Eli at my back while I pumped into her slick heat.

I reach down and grip the base of my cock, stroking it desperately, needing some relief.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Eli chuckles, gripping my wrists and pinning them behind my back as easily as you’d take candy from a baby. And I try not to make it easy for him, either.

Try being the operative word.

“Please,” I whimper.

Thankfully, he puts me out of my misery, spitting into his hand and using it as lubricant to stroke up and down my shaft again. That, combined with the precum weeping from my tip, makes his hand glide against me in a way that has me panting and squirming against him.

Normally during my heats, we don’t spend time on foreplay. His hand on my cock feels completely different than my own.

“So needy,” he mutters under his breath, watching my reactions to him with ‌hawk-like intensity.

My hands flex as I struggle weakly against the hold he still has on my wrists.

“Please, Eli,” I whimper. “Let me make you feel good, too.”

He freezes, his hand stilling, and I have to bite back a whine.

“You want to make me feel good too, huh?” His jaw works as he stares down at me. “No.”

“No? But⁠—”

“The last thing I want is a pity fuck. I’m only gonna let you make me feel good if you actually fuckin’ mean it.”

“I do!” I gasp.

His dark eyes narrow on me before his lips quirk up in a devilish smirk.

“Gonna have to make me believe it,” he shrugs, his hand continuing to drag up and down my shaft.

When the hold he has on my wrists loosens, even though it takes all the willpower I have, I pull away from his touch. He lets me, continuing to watch me with that intensity that has my skin crawling.

I lean forward onto my hands and knees, crawling closer to him and gripping the hem of his boxers.

He’s hard. Throbbing, even. I can see him pulsing with his heartbeat behind the thin fabric.

“I—I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out,” I mumble, pressing my cheek against the fabric. It doesn’t escape either of us that this was what we were doing before Andi interrupted us that night at the Grammys. “But I—I feel the same way about you. I just—I just didn’t think I deserved you or that you were actually interested.”

“Mhmmm, okay,” he rasps. “Enough talkin’ then.”