12. Twelve
twelve
ELLIOT
She slides her pussy over me, the heat of her desire evident, even through our pants. Being close to her is so good, the veil of denial falls. I can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else like this.
Now that she’s in my arms again, an ache fills my chest. I missed her body. Her smart mouth. Her attention . So much it hurts to be this close and still not have her.
Battling against a true surge of desire, I stare her down as she rocks toward me, her gaze penetrating and direct. I try to gain some control over myself, working my clenched jaw from side to side. But I want to taste her.
I reach for the back of her head, burning to kiss those parted lips, but she shakes it out of my hand. “I don’t need that tonight,” she says. Another lash of the whip. She puts her hands on my shoulders, pinning me back.
I could accept this. I’m close. I could go with the flow and let her get me off like she’s about to, because it does meet some need I have, but I want more. “You won’t kiss me? Seriously?”
“Save kissing for your girlfriends.”
“Jealous?”
Something flares in her eyes. “What would be the point of being jealous?”
“You tell me,” I say.
“Or we could get this over with.”
I glance down at her lazily moving hips. “You don’t seem like you’re in much of a hurry.”
She shudders, her nails driving into the muscle of my shoulders. “It feels so fucking good.”
I take hold of her ass, tilting myself up to grind harder. “What am I supposed to do with my mouth if you won’t let me talk or kiss you?”
“Clench your jaw. I like when you do that,” she says.
I smile. “What else do you like me to do?”
She moans, the strength in her arms giving way as our lower halves find a more coordinated rhythm together. My fingers drive into the tight fabric covering her thighs, and she falls against me, her mouth on my neck. Her hair fans across my face. With the silky steam of jasmine surrounding me, I open my lungs, taking all of her in. Finding the skin of her neck, I sink my teeth in as her hands move into my hair.
It’s good, but it’s also unbearable. “This is bullshit.” I don’t want her like this. I grip her head in my hands and adjust her angle. “Let me kiss you.”
Her lips cover mine before I have to mount a more persuasive argument. Our tongues collide in a frantic rush, and everything makes sense again. One hand slides down her back to move her body more tightly against mine while my other hand grasps at her head. Owning her mouth with mine, I plunge deep, drawing on her need and making her moan again. It’s exactly like I remember—her kiss—like she’s draining my life force.
She loses control by degrees, first with her lips, pulling and sucking at me, and then with her hips as they slide faster and harder, until she’s ruining my dick the way she’s destroying my mouth.
We move with an urgent desperation, like the limo could stop at any second. Like the entire future hangs in the balance. Like the world is ending.
Sliding her mouth across my cheek to my ear, she whispers, “This never happened.”
Goddamn, I’m close, but I don’t want it to end. “Anything you want. Don’t stop.”
“I’m about to come.”
“Please let me inside you.”
“It’s too much.” Her hips rotate with my upward thrusts. She seals her mouth to mine and relaxes the tension in her jaw to let me all the way in. It’s a wild, unleashed kiss that lights the fuse of my impending release.
She comes suddenly with a shattering cry, her body trembling in my arms, her thighs vibrating against me. I can’t wait anymore, my groin aching with unspent need. Pushing her back on my lap, I free my throbbing cock from my pants. Her hand covers mine as I work myself over fast and hard. In seconds, my orgasm pulses through me as I pant and quake, the sensation wracking me with a strength I forgot was possible. “ Fuck...Ginger... ”
“ Shit, Elliot... ” she moans as cum paints my abs in white, abstract streaks. She pants as she stares down at my cock emptying itself in load after load. I had a feeling it would be a lot. I should have warned her, but I’m glad I managed to keep it from getting all over her. “Jesus,” she whispers when my hand falls limply to the side.
My other hand still has a grip on her hip while her fingertips move lightly through the mess. Aftershocks tremble through me. Her forehead rests against mine, our breaths heavy against each other’s mouths. Her lacy nothing of a bra remains shoved up past her small, perfect breasts. The tangled waves of her hair skim her dark nipples, still tight and erect. She’s the picture of debauched. So beautiful I can barely stand to look at her.
“You can’t tell anybody about this,” she says.
Depression creeps around the edge of my thoughts. We could have had this for months if she bothered to return one fucking email. But she didn’t.
“This can’t happen again,” she says, still swirling my cum around on my abs.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I close my eyes, taking a moment to get a grip on my immense disappointment. “What if this whole thing doesn’t work out? The show.”
“Elliot, I’m serious.” With a final, heavy sigh, she scoots back, off my lap and returns to her seat. After taking stock of her chest, she covers herself back up, first with the flimsy lace, then the fabric of her silk shirt.
I put my dick back in my pants and zip up. I’m a mess, but I stopped caring the second she took her hands off me.
She speaks without even a glance my way. “This was a one-time thing. We should avoid being alone again. I think we both said and did what needed doing.”
The third lash of the whip cuts deep. I only wish my words stung her the way hers sting me. “Afraid you won’t be able to resist?”
The way she dresses again without modesty or shame is so matter-of-fact it burns me worse than her words.
“Look, we’re in this together,” she says. “My job is to get you married. Your job is to pick the woman. That’s it. Tomorrow you’ll start building some trust under Lavonne’s expert eye, and you’re gonna find your life mate. Now that this thing”—she gestures between us—“is out of your system, you need to focus. Keep your pants zipped until the final two, all right?”
I keep my face blank. It’s impossible to reconcile the woman who kissed me with undeniable passion with this cold, manipulative, network mouthpiece.
The truth of what happened between us finally registers.
She wasn’t desperate for me. She was producing me.