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He kisses me lazily before pulling back, extending a hand to me. And here’s the moment of truth. Do I risk taking his hand and gamble on getting everything I’ve always wanted? Or do I guard my heart and protect myself with the surety that I’ll never be hurt like I will be if he ever leaves?
I lift my eyes to him, searching those pale greens, looking for answers, looking for promises.
“You’re so stubborn,” he says. Without giving me the chance to choose, he pulls me to my feet. He reclines against my sofa and raises his eyebrows as if to beckon me. Or dare me.
Now, it’s my choice. I can play it safe. Or I can dive headlong into every fantasy I’ve ever had.
I hold his eyes while pulling my hair from its ponytail. I keep his gaze while I drop my shorts and panties. I break eye contact only as I lift my tee over my head. My bra comes off last.
I step to him—to every hope and every dream I’ve ever had, to the only man I’ve ever loved, and who I’ve wanted since I was twelve. To the razor’s edge where hope and terror collide.
I straddle his hips, resting on my knees, and lean to his mouth, hovering above it.
His hands roam my hips. His thumbs brush under the swells of my breasts, and his fingertips dance over my belly. They skim down my spine, around my ass, and tease my thighs. But he doesn’t touch me where I want him—where I desperately need him.
I kiss him before sliding my lips and tongue to his ear. “Need you, Eli.” I reach between us for his belt and open it before he slaps my hands aside, undoing his belt and trousers, shifting us both so he can drop his clothes to his ankles.
He yanks me to him and begins to play between my legs. I don’t want foreplay. I don’t need it. I lift on my knees and slowly sink onto his hot length, velvet over steel, and take him to the root. He stretches me and fills me so completely, I feel branded inside by his heat.
My mouth hovers over his, with only the promise of a kiss. Our eyes stay locked.
I lift only to have his hands find my hips and tug me down.
He lifts me ever so slowly and yanks me down hard again. He hits me at a place deep inside, one that sends sparks over my skin, a place that builds in me in a new way, before doing it again and again and again.
I’m awash in sensation, loving the feel of him inside me. He moves a hand to my upper back and arches me into his mouth—first one breast, then the second. A nip sends a zing of pleasure to my core, building the wave that will soon break.
I roll my hips, lost in us when his fingers hit my core. They come close, but don’t go where I need them. I undulate and stretch for his fingers, but unable to find him, I reach to do it myself.
“No.”
My eyes snap to meet his that are steely with resolve. “Not this time, darlin.’ Your pleasure is mine to give, not yours to take.”
“But—”
“But nothing. You don’t use me to get off without discussing it with me first. That’s one thing. But this isn’t that. This is us, Brighton. When I’m inside you, this is about us, not just you.”
I hold his eyes until what I see there threatens to overtake me.
I nod and lever myself only to slam back down again.
“Could the you part of us please touch my clit then? Because I need to come.” My eyes communicate my frustration.
He smiles. And that smile—shit, it would melt my clothes right off… if I were wearing any.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
He finds my center and rubs me until I can’t handle the sensation and break when the tidal wave sucks me under. He pulls back and pistons into me with short, jerky movements that prolong my orgasm.
“Fuck. Eli.”
“You have a filthy mouth, baby. And fuck if it doesn’t turn me on. Brighton, I’m going to come.” And he does.
Inside me.
Without a condom.
Marking me with his heat.
