Seven #2
She looks up and gives the smallest nod.
Her lips are soft and sure, the taste of her familiar but somehow new. Her tongue flicks tentatively against mine, and I deepen it, pulling her closer, drowning in the feel of her body. Her hands thread through my hair, and she kisses me back with a hunger that sets my blood on fire.
I want to lose myself in her.
We’re on a city sidewalk, and I don’t care. My cock is hard and aching, pressed to her stomach, and if I don’t stop, I’ll come undone right here. I kiss down her neck, tasting her skin, breathing her in.
She moans—soft, desperate—and fists my sweater like she never wants to let go.
I’m just about to lose all control when I hear Ken, my driver, clearing his throat softly beside the open car door.
We break apart, breathless. Wordless.
In the car, we sit close, thighs pressed together. My hand rests on her knee, drawing slow, lazy circles with my thumb. The silence hums with anticipation.
When we pull up to her place, a gorgeous four-story home tucked into the hillside by Coit Tower, I can’t bring myself to say goodbye.
“I’ll walk you to the door.”
“You don’t have to,” she says, but her voice is quiet.
“Richard would tackle me if I didn’t,” I reply, teasing.
She smiles. “Then come in.”
I tell Ken I won’t be long, even though every cell in my body wants to stay the night. But Amelia’s waiting at home, and the pull is real. Love in two places. I didn’t know that was possible.
Richard opens the door and nods before disappearing into what I assume is his own suite.
Ellory turns to me, nerves in her eyes.
I step close and slide my hands around her waist. “You don’t have to be nervous,” I whisper, kissing down her neck. “I’m not here to push. Just…to be close.”
She exhales shakily, her body melting into mine.
When I cup her breast, she gasps, arching into my hand like she’s been waiting for this. I tease her through the sweater, and her nipple stiffens beneath my touch. The fabric’s too thick. I want skin. Heat. Her.
She whimpers softly against my mouth.
“Jesus, Ellory.” I press her back gently against the wall. “I can’t think when I’m near you.”
Her hands roam over me, up my arms, over my chest, tugging me close. Her thighs press together, her hips rocking against my arousal.
“My God, baby…let me make you come.”
She stares up at me, lips parted, breath catching.
“Say yes,” I whisper, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Please.”
“Yes,” she breathes. Then louder, firmer: “Yes.”
She unzips her boots and kicks them off. I tug her jeans down as she pulls her sweater over her head, revealing silky, pale skin wrapped in a delicate bra and panties.
“Open your legs.”
Her eyes flutter closed, her breath shallow as she obeys. I press my hand between her thighs, feel the heat radiating through soaked lace. She jerks at the contact. My thumb circles firmly, then softly, teasing and coaxing.
She bites her lip, hips arching.
“Oh God,” she whispers.
Her head falls against the wall, and I slide my fingers beneath the fabric, stroking her in steady, rhythmic passes, until she’s shaking, clutching at my shoulders, gasping into my mouth.
“Come for me,” I groan against her lips. “Let go.” Her whole body arches into mine, like she trusts me with every piece of her. And I want to be worthy of it—every shiver, every gasp, every breath.
One final flick and she breaks, trembling in my arms as her orgasm rolls through her. She buries her face in my chest, muffling the sound of her cry as I hold her tight.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”
After a moment, she looks up at me, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes blazing. “I want you.”
“I promised I’d take you home,” I murmur, brushing hair from her face. “I’m going to keep that promise.”
Her smile is soft, wicked. “Then stay. I want this.”
“So do I,” I whisper. “More than you’ll ever know.”
I reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my thumb linger against her cheek. “Believe me, I do. But I promised to be home for the nanny…and I want this to be right. I want you ready. Really ready. I don’t want to mess this up by rushing in.”
Then I kiss her—soft, slow, reverent. A kiss that says I could stay. I want to stay. But I won’t. Not yet.
Because if I don’t walk away now, it’ll be cataclysmic. The kind of night that changes everything. And when that night comes, I want it to mean more than heat and hunger. I want it to end with her in my arms and wake with her still there—no doubts, no regrets.
I cup her face with both hands, memorizing every line, every flicker of hesitation and hope.
“Have dinner with me tomorrow,” I say. “At my place.”
She bites her bottom lip, uncertain, but glowing. I can see the wheels turning. She’s still sorting through what it means to be with me—Amelia, the chaos, the weight of it all.
But then she nods. “I’d love that.”
It takes everything in me not to grin like a complete idiot or fist-pump like I just won a championship. “Do you want me to pick you up?”
“I’ll have Richard drop me off,” she says, her voice softer now, teasing. “We can work on getting to know each other.”
I nod and take a step back before I lose all resolve. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere, Ellory.”
She opens the door, and as I step out, I glance back one last time.
Her eyes are still on me, a quiet storm brewing behind them.
I watch the door close behind her, but part of me is still inside, tangled up in her sheets, her scent on my skin, her laugh in my head. She’s not just under my skin now. She’s in my bloodstream.
And all I can think is, tomorrow can’t come fast enough.