21. Sully
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
sully
MY JAW DROPPED.
My brain wiped blank.
There was no way those words just came out of her mouth.
No way I’d heard her correctly.
“What—are—El, I—”
I was malfunctioning.
I was on fire.
Meanwhile, Ellie’s sly grin only grew as she watched me struggle.
“If you’d rather I show you, that could be arranged.” Her voice was like warm honey, making my insides feel gooey. Eleanor looked up at me beneath dark lashes, and I wondered if I was in some sort of alternate universe. Maybe the same sort of universe we’d stumbled into that night in Boston.
I twisted my body to face her—one knee bent on the couch cushion while my other foot remained flat on the floor as I attempted to stay grounded.
My pulse galloped as I asked, “Show me what, El?”
I needed her to be really fucking explicit about what was happening here. Because while I might want her more than I’d ever wanted anything, I was not about to risk fucking this up. Not now. Not when parts of her were coming back to me.
“What I’ve done this summer when I get off…” She paused, but her mouth was open like she might say more, and I needed her to say more. I needed to know more about Ellie getting herself off. What she looked like, what she did, what she thought— “…while thinking of you.”
“Yes.”
Yes, yes, yes, yes.
She’d barely even finished the sentence, and I was already ready to beg.
Please show me, baby. Please feed my delusions.
It was true that I didn’t need more images keeping me up at night, but what she was offering was something I didn’t know how to turn down.
It didn’t matter that there was an annoying voice in the back of my head telling me this was likely a bad idea.
Reminding me that there were things we should talk about, conversations we should really, really have.
We’d already said so much tonight, sifted through plenty for one evening.
And the reality was, sometimes it was just so much fucking easier to talk with our bodies.
Ellie’s eyes were knowing as she parted her knees, letting her legs fall apart to reveal a strip of lace beneath her dress. And even though I could tell the lace was soaked from her wet pussy, and my cock fucking throbbed in my jeans at the sight, irritation overcame all my other emotions.
Because what the hell?
“Why do you keep wearing that lacy shit?”
She smiled, enjoying herself way too goddamn much. “You don’t like it?”
I scowled. “I don’t like that it’s different.
” I was well aware that there would inevitably be things about Ellie that had changed, and I was equally aware that I would cherish every version of her.
Except this one—this strange version of her that wore lacy underwear despite always saying it was uncomfortable.
“And I don’t understand why you’re wearing something that you used to hate. ”
A sigh left her pretty pink lips. “I know you don’t like change, Sawyer, but of all the things, I didn’t think you’d care so much about my underwear—”
“Oh, I care very much about your underwear,” I gritted out. “Especially if it’s underwear you bought to wear for someone else.”
Did someone convince her to buy it? Convince her she needed certain lingerie to be sexy?
Because this woman could dress like a middle-aged dad mowing the goddamn lawn, and I’d still drop to my fucking knees in front of her, kiss her New Balance shoes and all.
And the thought of any man putting ideas in her head that weren’t true pissed me the fuck off. I swear to God—
“Didn’t we talk about this in the car?” she asked, interrupting my internal rant.
“We did not talk about your underwear in the car, no.”
Pretty sure I’d remember that.
Ellie tapped a finger on her knee, seemingly debating her next move.
All I could do was stare at her, entranced, my heart racing out of control.
She wore this crooked grin that drove me up the fucking wall.
That made me want to launch myself across the couch and kiss her senseless.
That had me balling my hands into fists so I didn’t rip that lacy underwear off her body and tear it into pieces. Again.
I was seconds away from doing just that when Ellie began trailing a fingertip from her knee up her thigh, and then I couldn’t move if I wanted to.
I was rooted to this spot on the couch while the woman of my dreams teased her little black sundress up higher and higher, until she was hooking her fingers in the sides of her panties and stripping them off.
I swear to God, she was the only person in the whole goddamn world who knew how to render me speechless.
I had no words. Hardly any thoughts, either. My brain, for once, was silent, ruled by an all-consuming need.
“You’re right. I don’t usually wear underwear like this,” she said, her voice velvety.
Seductive, smooth. Fuck, I wanted to drape it over me, wrap myself in it.
“But this lace happens to be soft and stretchy, and I thought these were pretty.” Her panties were between her fingertips now, and she was leaning forward, onto her knees, crawling across the couch toward me.
And oh my God, she was going to touch me.
She was going to touch me, and I might just blow a load in my pants from the brush of her fingertips on my chest as she stuffed her underwear into the small pocket on the front of my shirt.
And then she placed her palm flat on my racing heart, feeling my heaving breaths as she leaned closer, lifting her lips to my ear.
“I bought them just before leaving for Boston,” she whispered.
And I was done for.
I’d give her anything she wanted—anything at all.
I turned my head just enough to growl in her ear, “Tell me you bought them for me, and I’ll let you watch me fuck my hand, El.”
A soft little laugh teased my insides. “I bought them for you.”
My pants were unzipped, and my cock was out within seconds.
Ellie pulled back to stare for a long moment, her breaths coming in short pants like maybe she’d forgotten what I’d looked like or perhaps hadn’t realized how hard it would be for her not to wrap her hands around me. Touch me. Stroke me. Because we both knew she fucking loved my cock.
But then she shifted, started to move away, ready to sit back and enjoy her show. Which caused me to act without thinking, catching her by the nape of her neck before she could escape to the other side of the couch, out of reach again.
Her eyes grew wide, heated, watching me curiously.
“Spit on it.” My hand curved around her throat, squeezing lightly, pulling her closer. “Spit on it so I can pretend I’m in your pretty little mouth.”
Our gazes held—a slow, simmering stare that Ellie maintained as she lowered her head toward my throbbing cock, which stood erect in my fist. I was transfixed by her, though, watching how her mouth seemed to work as she prepared to do what I instructed.
And then spit dripped from her lips. It coated my cock in slow motion, hitting the head and dribbling down the sides.
But that was nothing compared to the little flick of Ellie’s tongue when she licked her lips afterward.
It was so very possible that I might not make it through tonight without combusting.
“More?” she said, all husky and warm.
She wiped at her chin, at the trickle of saliva left behind, and precum leaked from my cock.
Fuck me.
“How wet is your pussy right now, Eleanor?” I rasped.
I’d never needed to know anything more.
She seemed thrown off by the question, biting down on her pillowy bottom lip as those dark, sooty lashes fluttered. Then she swallowed, and I felt her throat work beneath my palm.
“I want my cock to be just as soaked,” I added, a low clarification.
Her lips twitched.
“More, then,” she decided, and she spat more aggressively this time, though with just as much of a perfect aim.
I groaned, watching it trickle down, pooling on top of my hand. “God, Eleanor. You’re making a fucking mess out of me, you know that?”
An understatement. I was threatening to come undone at the seams, in more ways than one, because of this woman.
I caught Eleanor’s heady gaze just before she parted her lips, dipped her chin, and let more spit slide off her tongue.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” she asked when she was done, and I was speechless. All I could do was nod enthusiastically.
Yes, baby. Make even more of a mess out of me. Destroy me, I don’t even fucking care anymore.
Ellie grinned, preening, and I released her throat before I was tempted to pull her to my lips and kiss her senseless.
She retreated to the other end of the couch again, propping herself up against the cushions while still facing me.
Her skin was flushed and gorgeous, and God, I wanted nothing more than to taste her.
But that wasn’t what she wanted right now.
She wanted to watch me. And since I didn’t know how to do anything but give Eleanor what she asked for, I began working my hand up and down my cock, imagining that it was sloppy because her mouth was still there, on it.
And hell, did she feel good. So goddamn good.
A low moan slipped through my lips, and my eyes fluttered shut before opening again.
Thank fuck for that, otherwise I would have missed the way Ellie spread her legs, letting them fall open, exposing a glimpse of her pussy, half-covered by the hem of her dress.
I choked on a breath, suddenly more desperate than I had ever been in my entire life. I needed more, needed to see her, right fucking now.
“Holy—” I barely got the word out through gritted teeth, and Ellie’s eyes, which had been trained on the way my hand worked over my erection, snapped to my face. “I need to see it. Need to see that wet pussy my cock loves so much.”
Her expression turned coy as she inched her dress up, revealing only a sliver more of her center. “Oh, this pussy?”
“Yes, that fucking pussy, Eleanor,” I growled. “The only pussy I ever get fucking hard for.”