Chapter 11 #2
Did she? It was probably a bad choice, but yeah. “Mhm,” she hummed, swiveling her hips and grinding against his length.
Growling softly, he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, then swiped his tongue into her mouth. His huge hands roamed her body, sliding up and down her back, pausing to tug loose the ties on her top.
Fern pressed a firm kiss to his mouth—the type that didn’t require much focus—and reached between them to yank her bikini free.
With a groan, Elliott leaned back enough to get a good look at her tits, then he ducked his head and swirled circles around her nipples.
She whimpered, pressing her chest into his face.
The move arched her back and pulled her bottoms tight against her clit, intensifying the already gratifying motion she had going.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, exquisite, a goddamn masterpiece.” Elliott peppered her with kisses from breasts to forehead, then found her mouth again. “Use me, Fern. Make yourself come for me. Can you do that?”
She whimpered, unable to form a single word while lost to his touch. Where was this Elliott before? She supposed they hadn’t known each other for very long. This was yet another part of the getting-to-know-you phase of a relationship... or friends-with-benefits-ship.
With his face buried in her neck, he inhaled deeply and groaned. “I want you soaked and coming so hard you’d melt if I wasn’t holding you up.”
She said nothing, just ground against him and found the perfect position, the perfect speed. Her clit rode the ridge where his hard shaft met his softer head as she picked up pace, growing less rhythmic, more frantic with each passing moment.
One hot hand tightened on her waist, and the other grabbed her braids, tugging her head back so he could meet her eyes. “Do you understand me? Now, Fern. I want you shaking.”
“Yes,” she gasped out as she came—just as he requested—moving in little jagged bursts until the hard jolts of pleasure subsided to soft, rolling waves.
Back arched, she stared up at the ceiling, counted ten knots in the wooden planks, then finally found her breath and glanced down.
“Holy shit,” she whispered, disentangling her fingers from Elliott’s hair.
He gazed up at her, drawing back just enough to say, “Well done,” in a husky voice that sent a shiver straight to her soul.
“Who are you?” she asked, dazed, watching him through the haze of her lashes.
Chuckling, he turned them on the bed and shifted her to lie beside him, pulling her head onto his chest. Too sated to question things, she enjoyed the rhythm of his heart and looked out at his stunning yard.
The afternoon sun cascaded through the trees, and a soft breeze made the daylight dance across the grass.
A few small swarms of bugs, nothing more than pale clouds in the distance, blobbed amorphously as they rode the air currents.
A hummingbird paused for a sip at the bright red feeder hanging beneath a tree with papery white bark.
The porch he’d brought her to was lovely, with a small table and two chairs across the way.
Well-tended plants hung from the ceiling and flourished in pots on the wood floor.
She couldn’t help but wonder why Elliott brought her there rather than inside.
Was it to keep some sort of distance between her and his life?
“You’re abnormally quiet,” he said softly, idly sliding his hand up and down her thigh.
She snorted. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“How I didn’t get to touch you.” It was a new thought, but a true one.
A squeak escaped her when Elliott tugged her braids, pulling her head from his chest over to his bicep. His nostrils flared before he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Lips lingering against her skin, he said, “You definitely did.”
Her fingernails traced a slow trail down his abdomen, scritching over chest hair as they headed south. He must have known what she was doing, but he played along when she shoved her other hand in his waves and said, “You need a haircut. This is long and pretty healthy, but...”
The tip of her pointer finger swiped the head of his cock, and Elliott inhaled sharply.
“Maybe you can cut it soon,” he said huskily.
“Really?” She wrapped her fingers around his crown and squeezed gently while tugging.
Fern got no answer but a hiss and a kiss. Shifting onto his side, he urged her onto her back while she explored his length, down to his balls and up again.
She settled into a rhythm, working him with varied pressure and a quick flick of her wrist here and there.
As he curled over her, she had to stretch out her arm to keep hold of his cock, but the awkward position was worth it when he slid his thick fingers under the band of her bikini bottoms and swiped over her mound.
“If I take these off”—he snapped the thin strap over her hip—“will you let me touch you?”
Twirling a lock of his hair between her fingers, she caught his gaze and nodded.
“Good,” he growled, all commandeering and sexy, before a glint of panic flickered in his eyes. The old Elliott returned, and he said, “Just because I— I don’t think we should— Yet?”
Was he nervous? Is that what was happening? He was the strangest human being she’d ever met. Lifting her free hand to his face, her other pumped him hard while she checked, “You want me naked, but you don’t want to fuck?”
“Yeah.” A sheepish smile bunched his cheek beneath her palm, and she had no choice but to pull him down for a smoldering kiss.
When she’d finished teasing his tongue with hers, she whispered, “Do it.”
With the strong, practiced hands of a potter, he tore her swimsuit off and made her come in no time while she did the same for him.
Leaving her lounging in the cool shade, tickled by a warm breeze, Elliott slipped inside, and Fern zoned out. Eyes closed and body humming with happiness, she basked in the chirps and buzzes of nature.
He returned in gym shorts and a T-shirt, his hands full of things, prompting a wave of awkward shame to crash into her.
She was naked, practically in this man’s backyard, having a little meditation sesh, while he stood there fully freaking clothed.
And she had no idea what was going on between them.
She didn’t need a relationship, not even a friends-with-benefits-ship.
She was starting a new job tomorrow. There were bigger things to focus on. God, she was a mess.
“I brought you clothes. Come here.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, the rough pads of his thumbs slid between her thighs, and her thought-spiral stopped.
Fern gasped, aroused and overcome with shyness in tandem. Her nipples acted accordingly, one tensing to a hard peak, the other remaining a soft hill. She let him coax her legs apart, curious to see what he had planned.
When he started washing her with a warm cloth, her shyness dissipated, and arousal was all that remained. He was so confusing: attentive then restrained, commanding then uncertain, caring then—no, he was always caring.
At some point he dropped the washcloth, and his finger found her clit, drawing a quick, light circle, as though he was testing the waters. She wriggled, humming in approval.
“Again?” he asked, but already had an answer as she grasped the hem of his shirt to pull it off.