21. Sully #2
“Mm.” Her gaze flared, a visual streak of possession that reminded me of earlier in the car, when I’d realized she’d been fishing, trying to figure out if I’d been with anyone else. Only you, only ever you. “You want more?”
She dropped her hand between her legs, cupping her sex, and now I was pretending that I was touching her. That my cock was touching her, sliding through her slick cunt.
“Of you?” I rasped. “Always.”
“Okay,” she whispered, more vulnerable and tender than before.
And shit, I wanted to examine more closely why that may be, but then Ellie gradually withdrew her hand, letting her fingers graze between her legs, skimming her clit, which was now exposed to me entirely because she’d rucked her dress up and around her hips, leaving her pussy on display, and oh fuck, she was playing with it.
And whimpering.
Oh, God, she was whimpering.
“Sawyer,” she whined, and I worked my hand harder.
Jesus Christ.
“Oh, fuck, El.”
A mess—a panting, quivering mess.
Me, mess. Her, gorgeous. This, unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.
“Oh my God,” she groaned as she began rocking her hips—tiny movements against her fingers as they slid over her clit.
She was messy and wet and wonderful between her legs, and fuck, it was taking everything in me not to pounce on her.
I wanted to taste her. I wanted to lie between her legs and devour her.
I wanted to be inside her—in any fucking way possible.
But I couldn’t, so I pretended. My grip tightened, and I imagined it was the squeeze of her pussy or the suction of her mouth.
God, I loved being inside her. I missed being inside her.
Ellie sighed prettily, and goddamnit, all I wanted was to be the one who was making those sounds come out of her mouth for the rest of her life. I wanted to do things to her that would make her sigh and whine and scream.
Once again, I pretended. I watched her expression, noting the way she bit down on her lip, and the slight quiver of her temple and the furrow of her brow.
I imagined she was making that face because of the way I was touching her, the way I was fucking her, the way I was devouring her.
Her eyes caught on mine, widened with heat and shock—a wildness in them.
It was too good and hot and so fucking perfect. She trapped me with that deep brown gaze of hers, and I was hooked more than ever in this fantasy, this moment of make-believe where we were together again.
And while suspended in disbelief, I was in heaven.
As my hips jerked and my hand stroked my throbbing cock, I was in absolute bliss—watching her, thinking about her, drowning in her again.
But then she tipped her head back and closed her eyes, breaking the connection.
And I refused to lose her again.
“Eleanor,” I snapped, needing to get her attention again.
Needing to get her back.
She sighed, seeming to melt into the couch, even while she continued to stroke her clit. My name, barely audible, slipped through her lips.
“Look at me, El.” I would beg if I had to. “You wanted to watch, so watch. Watch how I stroke my cock while I pretend I’m inside you.”
“I’m pretending, too,” she breathed, and then I watched as two fingers worked inside her cunt, making it to her knuckles before she paused. “What do you think I’m picturing on the back of my eyelids?”
A stream of air hissed through my lips as I struggled to form words, a response.
“I’m afraid I’m going to touch you,” she confessed. “I’m afraid if I keep looking, I’m going to crawl right onto your lap and—” Ellie broke off with a moan as she sank her fingers further inside her cunt, and I squeezed my cock, pretending that was me.
“Ride me?” I supplied for her. “Is that what you’re picturing?”
She nodded, her lips parting as a breathy sigh came through them. She withdrew her fingers, sliding them up to rub her clit, and her entire lower body seemed to twitch from the stimulation.
“Fuck,” I groaned. Everything about this was too much and too good.
The pretend image of her climbing onto my lap, the very real image of her spreading her legs for me—it all nearly sent me over the edge.
But there was still something missing. Something I needed.
“El, look at me,” I repeated, desperate.
“But—”
“I’ll take the risk of you touching me.” Didn’t sound like much of a risk at the moment, to be honest. “Pretend I’m inside of you with your eyes open,” I begged. “Please.”
I needed her to stay here with me.
“Okay.” A tortured whisper slipped through her lips. “Okay, Sawyer.”
She obeyed, dipping her chin, eyelids slowly lifting, gaze going straight to my cock, where my hand had stilled at the head of it. Then her attention flicked to my face, curiosity shining in her expression.
“Good girl,” I praised, melting beneath her stare.
“Now, put your thumb on your needy clit.” She did, and I added, “Then take your two fingers and—” Ellie cut me off with a breathy, pleasured exhale as she immediately moved into position for me and began pushing two fingers inside her pussy. “Wait,” I breathed. “Not so fast.”
A look of annoyance flashed over Ellie’s face, and I released a rough chuckle.
“Just…move with me, El,” I encouraged before working my hand down my throbbing length in a slow stroke, waiting for her to catch on.
Thankfully, Ellie seemed to understand, gaze falling once more to my cock, lips parting as she timed her movements with mine, pushing her fingers into her sweet cunt at the same pace. I watched as they disappeared inside her, and I imagined that was me. And fuck—
“Oh my God,” Ellie gasped, her eyes widening a little as I continued to work down my cock, my fist eventually hitting my base just as her fingers buried themselves completely in her hot little pussy.
God, what a dream.
“I know, El.” It was good, so good, better than good—amazing. “I know. Now, again.”
Ellie swallowed. Nodded. Watched as I slid my palm slowly back up to my head. Withdrew her fingers at the same pace.
And then down again.
Inside again.
Together again.
“I’m right here,” I reminded her. If she wanted me, I’d always be right here. “I’m right here, with you, inside you. Your pretty pussy takes me so good. Always so good, Eleanor.”
“I wish it was you,” she whined, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, her tits threatening to spill over the neckline of her dress, which had shifted, tugged lower. Holy hell, she was incredible. So goddamn incredible. “I wish I could feel you.”
“It is me,” I promised. “Can you not feel me? I can feel you.”
Her eyes found mine, shining with something unnamed. We were close to something, so close. So I kept going, kept talking.
“I can feel how wet you are. How good you are. How sweet you are.” I was panting now, my chest matching the way Ellie’s heaved.
We were in sync, our movements quickening, growing sloppier.
“I can feel your breaths.” Because they were the same as mine.
“I can feel your gaze.” Because it was on my cock again, studying how hard I was for her. “I can feel you, Eleanor.”
Because you are mine.
Always.
Again.
“I can feel you, too.” It was a tiny mewl of a confession as her eyes grew wide, her fingers chasing her high. Sloppy. Wet. God, the noises she was making as she fucked herself with her fingers while imagining it was me…they were obscene. Glorious. Perfect.
“Shit, I can feel how close you are,” I groaned.
Because it was true. I could taste the closeness of her orgasm as I watched her muscles coil.
“Yes,” she panted, and I knew we were there. “Yes, yes, yes—”
“Fuck, yes,” I emphasized.
Watching Eleanor come was my favorite fucking thing in the entire world. God, she was so beautiful the way her back arched, and her pupils dilated, and her breaths hitched. I’d never gotten to sit back and watch it like this, get a view like this, and I was in fucking awe. Of her, of this.
When her movements slowed and her body began to slump, I felt my own climax rise.
I wanted nothing more than to ride the crest of her orgasm, feel the waves of her high wash over me.
My gaze fixed on her fingers as she withdrew them from her soaked cunt, and I fixated on them, wanted them, needed them. Now.
“Come here,” I instructed, voice hoarse.
Ellie looked surprised by the command, but she didn’t hesitate. Within seconds, she was on her knees, crawling toward me.
“Let me clean you up. I just need to—” I broke off with a curse, feeling my body tighten, readying for release.
Ellie’s gaze darkened, watching as I shakily grabbed her wrist with my free hand and brought her to my mouth.
“Taste you. When I come,” I finished, seconds before I slipped her wet fingers between my lips and moaned around them.
A sharp gasp slipped out of Ellie, and I was—I was gone.
I was in heaven.
I was drowning in the taste of her, the feel of her, the closeness of her as she watched me, transfixed. My release coated the length of my cock as I continued to work it over, not ready to stop. I sucked on Ellie’s fingers, and she whispered my name, a sliver of reverence in her voice.
When my grip on her wrist loosened, she took over, pumping her fingers in and out of my mouth, gliding them across my tongue. Eventually, she slowed, dragging them out, moving at the same pace as the decrescendo of my climax. Gradual, sensual, reluctant.
Neither of us wanted this moment to end.
God, I’d never, ever get enough of her.
But still, her hands dropped to her sides. So did mine.
“I can feel you,” I breathed, gasping for air. “You, El. You.”
You, you, you.
Never anyone else.
She nodded, and I knew she understood.
I knew she understood, and that was all I needed right now.
“I can feel you, too, Sawyer.” Also trying to catch her breath, Ellie fell back to the other end of the couch, but the distance no longer felt quite so unbearable. “I can feel you, too.”