4. Ellie #3
His jaw clenched, and I couldn’t handle much of it.
Him, staring at me wordlessly with that fire in his eyes.
I didn’t know how to feel about it and didn’t have the energy to figure it out, so I decided to take action, grabbing the hem of my dress and peeling it up and over my head.
I lost sight of Sully for only a moment, but then he was there again, his cerulean gaze dancing with new, unnamed emotions.
And despite all his comments about what this dress looked like on the floor beside a bed, Sully didn’t look at it once when I dropped it over the edge of the mattress.
I hadn’t worn a bra tonight. The skinny straps of the dress didn’t really allow for it, and it had an inner lining that gave me enough support without one. I didn’t have the kind of figure that needed a lot of support, anyway.
But Sully didn’t seem to mind. He never had.
His mouth worked, lips parting as he stared at me, naked on the bed. And I’d never in my life felt more exposed.
“What else can I kiss?” he choked.
The question caught me off guard.
“If you don’t want me to kiss your lips, fine,” Sully went on, sounding inexplicably tortured. “But tell me I can kiss you everywhere else.”
“You can kiss me everywhere else,” I whispered without thinking about the consequences, and Sully dropped onto the mattress with a low growl in his throat, covering my body with his.
His mouth pressed to the place where my pulse thumped against my skin, eagerly sucking.
Like he could drink in my heartbeat, make it his again.
“It’s so fucking annoying.”
“What?”
“That you think my memories of you could just fade.” His words were muffled, spoken into the curve of my neck. “That they don’t.”
Suddenly, I was blinking back tears.
“You want to forget me, Sawyer?”
The elation of feeling him—the press of his mouth on my skin, the firm exploration of his fingers gripping my sides…it was all juxtaposed by the tedious, devastating ache in my chest.
I would never forget him, never shake the imprint he’d made on my body, my heart, my very being. And the thought that maybe he wanted to forget me, that maybe he could forget me…it hurt, in all the very worst ways. But at the same time, could I blame him?
Sully just shook his head as his lips traveled down my chest, nipping at my skin.
Maybe he wanted to forget, but it was clear he didn’t want me to.
He wanted to leave marks. More of them, as though I didn’t already have invisible ones.
He wanted me to wake up tomorrow and see the evidence of him and what he’d done to my body.
As though any of this would ever be skin-deep, no matter what we told ourselves.
His mouth made it to the swell of my breast, and soon, his tongue was swirling around one nipple before he tugged it between his lips. I gasped his name, arching into his touch, and Sully groaned.
“Don’t tell me,” he demanded.
“What?”
“I don’t ever want to know.” He dragged his open mouth to my other breast, lavishing his tongue over it. “I don’t ever want to know the other names you’ve gasped like that.”
“Saw—”
“I’m serious, Eleanor. They’ll wind up dead, and I don’t feel like going to prison.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” I whispered.
But I wasn’t concerned.
I’d never gasped anyone’s name like I did with him.
God, this was too much. I’d been hoping this could be something quick, something that scratched an itch without opening a wound. I’d just wanted to feel something. A prick of emotion that I so rarely felt these days. And I knew he could deliver that.
But now, Sully London was all over me, and he was whispering things I couldn’t wrap my head around while giving me angry looks that threatened to crack my chest open, and it was all too much.
And yet, not enough. Because I didn’t know how to stop.
Didn’t want to stop. I needed more of him; I needed everything.
“Sully,” I panted, and he jerked back. Possibly confused that I’d called him a name that everyone else did. That I didn’t.
“El?” He dropped his head a fraction and then pulled back abruptly. Like maybe he’d been about to drop a kiss to my lips and then remembered he couldn’t.
It made everything worse.
Why had I said he couldn’t kiss me?
“Is there a reason you haven’t fucked me yet?” I asked.
His brows pulled together.
“If you’re eager to get this over with, I can—”
“You know that’s not what I’m eager for.”
“Is it this, then?” He dragged his erection through my pussy, making me shudder with the sensation. The anticipation. “Are you eager for my cock, Eleanor?”
All I could do was whimper in response, and “Oh, fuck me” fell out of Sully’s mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed hard.
“I’m trying to,” I panted in response.
Sully’s eyes flew open, lips twitching as a look of resolve passed over his face. “You know that even though things went the way they did, I still respect you, right?”
“I—” He heard the hesitation in my voice and frowned. Shot me an almost-glare. So I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yeah, of course. Why?”
“Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”
How did he know that that was exactly what I wanted? What I needed.
“It’s okay, Sully. I’m well aware of what this is.”
“Yeah?” Curiosity shimmered in his eyes, like maybe he didn’t know what it was. “What is it?”
“Some sort of…hate-fuck, I suppose.”
“Ah.” There was a glint now in his gaze. “You think I hate you, Eleanor?”
“Don’t you?”
“Mm,” he hummed. “I’ll let you decide.”