Chapter 43 Sutton #2
I’ve been denying her out of insecurity—the idea that once we take that step, the flames that burn so bright between us will extinguish. Or that any comparisons will hit too close to home and I won’t be able to go through with it.
But that disgust, the feeling of absolute horror that persists when anyone else touches me or when I try touching someone else, is entirely absent when it’s her. I don’t even think twice about creating a physical connection, and I never have. Not since the first night we met.
That has to mean something. Even now, with the weight of my dreams and past sitting on my shoulders, tempting me into a spiral of total shame, the only thing I can really focus on is how badly I want this.
Want her.
So when she leans on her knee, sliding it onto the mattress to straddle me, I don’t stop her.
She hums, content, as she settles on my lap, dragging her fingernails down my chest. Her cunt grinds into me as she moves, deftly unbuttoning my shirt. Each release of a button from its hole feels like she’s plucking at the tendons beneath my skin, making them yield to her touch.
Once she’s finished with all of them, she pushes the shirt aside, leaning in to lick my nipple. The sensitive peak hardens, and she nibbles around it, sending frissons of heat rolling through my abdomen.
Her hand crawls down the center of me, pausing right above the waistband of my pajama pants.
Without warning, she withdraws, climbing off me and then the bed to dart across the room.
My pulse grows uneven. “Elle?”
“Wait a second,” she says, and a moment later, the sound of a match slashing against a striking strip fills the air, and a flame appears where she stands by my dresser.
She lights a few candles, coming around to place them on the nightstand next to the bed, and then waves the flame out.
I grunt as she scrambles back on top of me, pulling me up so she can push my shirt from my shoulders.
“Wanted to see you,” she mutters into my skin, trailing her lips over my collarbone before shoving me back into the mattress.
“Good call.” My hands find her hips, squeezing tight, and then move inward. I skim the tips of my thumbs under the elastic of her panties, just barely resisting the urge to tear them from her.
In the candlelight, she’s exquisite. An ethereal goddess placed on the earth with the sole purpose of driving me mad.
When she shifts, angling her hips so her cunt glides more easily along my length, I suck in a sharp gasp. White-hot need pours into my chest, filling the cavity with its debauched fantasies.
Sitting up straight, she leans over to the nightstand and snatches one of the candles from its perch. As it burns, white wax drips down the stick, over her fingers—and onto my stomach.
I hiss as the initial scalding sensation ripples through me, instantly cooling as she inches up, tilting the candle to hit another spot. This time, it lands in the center of my chest, and she punctuates the connection with a slow thrust against my fabric-covered cock.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” she asks in a low, thick voice.
I nod, afraid my restraint might snap if I speak. The muscles in my limbs are taut, pulled to the edge and desperate to be set free.
She holds the candle up as she bends, sliding back toward my knees. With her mouth, she hooks her teeth into my waistband and uses her free hand to help shimmy them down.
That image alone is so erotic that I nearly come from watching.
It’s embarrassing how gone I am for her.
Coming back up, Elle angles the candle above my hips, letting the wax drizzle onto my pelvis. My body arcs off the bed, the heat from the wax lighting my entire body on fire.
A dangerous glint appears in her eyes, nearly eclipsed by the shadows dancing around us. I move fast, snatching the candle from her hands and flipping so she’s lying on her back with me over top of her.
With a sly grin, she wraps her legs around my waist, dragging me against her. Since my pants aren’t pulled up, I can feel just how little material there is between us and how needy she is for me.
She wiggles out of her shirt, her breasts bouncing as she settles flat on her back again, tossing the clothing to the floor. Holding her arms together, she pushes her tits up and out in offering as she flutters her lashes.
Quickly, I shrug out of my clothes.
“Don’t you wanna mark me?” she asks sweetly, softly, so deeply flushed that I feel like I might pass out.
“In so many fucking ways,” I reply, switching the candle out for a new one—this one red. I tip the jar it’s in gently, sucking in air through my teeth when the wax splashes against her smooth, pale skin and she lets out a low moan.
I follow the same pattern, drawing swirls and cross marks over her chest. When I’m finished, she’s panting and covered in crimson. It’s hardening quickly, but the picture of her drenched in blood, feral and waiting for more, is not one I can quickly erase from my mind.
Maybe ever.
“You…” I say, breathless, blowing out the candle and tossing it to the ground. I slide my hands over the wax, cupping her tits in my hands. “…are a vision, tentatrice. Je suis amoureux de ta perfection.”
I cough a little at the end of my sentence, realizing a moment too late what I’ve inadvertently confessed to without even fully processing what I’m saying.
She gasps, threading her fingers through mine, making me squeeze her fully as she arches into the gesture.
The wax is hard on her skin, like it’s trying to cast her body in a mold. She meets my eyes, hunger lighting hers. “More?”
“Wax or words?”
“Words. Please. I want to hear you.”
Humming, I bend and drag my tongue up from the hollow of her throat, all the way to her chin. “Tu as un go?t incroyable. Je veux me régaler de toi pour le reste de nos vies.”
Scoring my teeth over the underside of her jaw, I shift, rolling my cock against her cunt. She lets out a small whimper, tightening her legs around me in a silent plea.
My fingers trail up her thigh, coasting until I feel the fabric still covering her. With two digits, I find her soaked center, gliding slowly up her seam through those panties, reveling in how she writhes at the barest touch.
“Tu es belle.”
It’s intoxicating, how badly she wants this. How I ache to touch her, kiss her, be in her. How wet she is from a little foreplay, her body making it clear she belongs to me.
Fuck.
That’s not right, but it’s how I feel.
I want to claim Elle for myself—forever, all of eternity. Rules and pasts be fucking damned.
I want to bury myself so deeply inside her that it’d take multiple lifetimes for her to ever push me out. I want her under my skin, living in my blood, consuming me from the inside out.
“Dis s’il te pla?t.” I tug her panties to the side, delving between her sopping folds, skirting over her clit and hovering near her entrance. “Say please, baby.”
“How do I say it in French?”
“How badly do you want it?”
“Really bad.” She makes a strangled noise in her throat. “It’s all I think about. You filling me, over and over, until I’m a sweet, sobbing mess.”
My chest grows hot. “Je t’en supplie.”
“Je t’en supplie,” she repeats, licking her lips. She says it again, this time more desperate. “Je…t’en…supplie.”
Leaning in, I slant my mouth across hers at the same time I plunge two fingers into her cunt, the immediate warmth and tightness as she spasms making me moan. She captures the sound, swallowing it as she slices her tongue against mine, her hands tangling in my hair.
Each time I kiss her, it feels like the world is stopping and starting all at once. Like time forcibly stands still, waiting for us to come up for air or die trying.
Our teeth gnash, scraping as the connection grows hungrier, needier, and suddenly what we’re doing isn’t enough. I tear my lips away with a low growl, shouldering my way between her thighs to add my tongue to the mix, lapping at her cunt like it’s the only source of water in the desert.
Her hands pull at the roots of my hair as she drives her hips against my face, riding her way to pleasure. I pump my fingers in short, curled bursts, chasing the way her body moves and noting the exact things that make her clamp down around me like a fucking vise.
“Fuck,” I groan into her slick, sensitive flesh. “Tu as un go?t si doux.”
“Oh, shit. Sutton—” Her hips arc up, seeking more, and I use my forearm to pin her back on the mattress.
“Look at me when my mouth is on you, or I’ll stop,” I tell her, sucking at her clit.
She cries out, eyes searching for mine as her grip on my hair becomes punishing.
I add a third finger, curling and massaging, and spear my tongue into her alongside them.
With my free arm, I push my elbow against her thigh to keep her spread wide and draw rough figure eights on that pulsating bundle of nerves, watching from her cunt as her entire body begins to tremble.
The moment she starts to come, though, I slow my movements, yanking her back from the edge. A frustrated grunt pushes from her chest, and I build back up again, stroking and sucking and rubbing until she’s right there, over and over and over.
We’re both drenched in sweat. My vision is blurring, desire swimming through my mind and blocking out all thought except how good I can make her feel. That’s all my body wants to do right now.
“Sutton,” Elle whines, tears pooling in those beautiful hazel eyes of hers.
“Goddamn, there she is,” I coax, my stomach twisting violently as she tightens, cutting off my circulation.
This time, I don’t slow down, too desperate to feel her come around my fingers.
“Let it out, baby. Take everything you need from me. You’re so perfect and beautiful with my fingers inside you.
Don’t I deserve a reward for making you feel so good? ”
Her mouth falls open on a soul-shattering moan, half prayer, half war cry. She goes rigid, shaking uncontrollably as her cunt clamps so tight that she almost pushes me out.