Chapter Twelve #2
If somehow, he can feel how hard my heart beats for him all the way through my body to where he’s connected to me.
When I open my eyes, I can see my own hard cock bounce with each thrust of his fingers. It’s wet and straining between my thighs, and watching Rowan’s free hand slide up and down my leg from this point of view is only driving me closer and closer toward an absolute freak-out.
“Oh, god, Elijah. I want to remember this sight forever. I want to capture it and stare at it every day.” Rowan is rambling, almost sounding delirious in his own desire. “I want to fuck my fingers right into your sweet little spot, but I’m scared this’ll end too quickly.”
“Please,” I beg, and he groans at the sound.
“Sweet angel, you sound so filthy.” He takes a deep, full breath. “Don’t beg me. I’ll give you anything you want—forever. Just ask me for it, and it’s yours.”
Something within me snaps. Something buried so deeply inside of my body—or maybe my soul—bends and cracks at his words, and I begin to sob.
When he’s around me, touching me, I cannot seem to stop sobbing.
“I want you inside of me. Right now. No more of this,” I demand through my tears. No more begging.
Rowan grunts, pulling his fingers from my ass. But on his retreat, he makes sure to touch me right where I’ve been anticipating it.
He laughs at my choked sob—a gentle chuckle. And then I hear the sound of foil being opened; he must have found the condoms in the same drawer as the lube. Or maybe he brought his own in anticipation of what was to come.
I think I like the latter option better.
Rowan moves around me and sits on the bed, lying back against my pillows. It only takes me a second to realize what he’s waiting for, and then I’m straddling his hips in desperation.
As I line him up with my entrance, I get my first good look at his face since we entered the bedroom. His full lips are swollen and red, his hair damp and disarranged, his eyes dilated and hooded as they watch me. He’s panting, hands gripping at my hips again.
“Fuck,” I breathe, one palm resting on his chest to balance myself.
“What?” he asks, lifting a hand to brush it over my heated cheek.
“You look incredible.”
Rowan begins to grin, his palm cupping my face with admiration. “Fuck yourself on me, Eli. Use me and come.”
“Ohmygod,” I moan, beginning to sink onto the swollen head of his cock.
As it settles inside of me, I stop, taking a moment to breathe around the pain and the sensation of being split open.
I’m also battling the smell of him as it bombards my senses and the hot burn in my chest. When I look down at him, the tears rise again and begin to fall onto his chest below me.
His eyes are watching me so carefully, as if he’s waiting for something. A reaction? A confession? I’m not sure. But he looks at me as if he’s taming me; as if he is watching me experience something he already fully understands.
“…And when we’re done—and it was just as mind-blowing as the first time—let me say ‘I told you so.’”
I guess in some way, he does. I’m just unsure of what it is that he was so quick to figure out while I’m stuck suffering in silence.
After a minute or two of panting and wheezing, I have only taken half of him.
Rowan is patient. He is watching me with gentle, admiring eyes as I strain and cry above him. And that itself is starting to piss me off.
“Hey,” I grind out, teeth clenched. “I can’t shove this massive thing in all on my own. Mind helping me out here?”
Rowan bites his lip to keep from laughing, and both of his hands return to my hips.
“Are you ready?” he asks, and I nod.
“Yeah.”
I was not ready.
With one powerful thrust, Rowan seats himself fully inside of me. I gasp, choking on my own spit as my ass hits his thighs. He’s incredibly deep; I can feel him all the way into my stomach.
A long whine leaves my throat as I brace a hand on his chest, tears slipping through my clenched eyes. The palm of my other hand presses lightly over my stomach; jolts of pleasure and nausea shoot through me as I gasp.
He’s everywhere.
“Oh, wow. So full. Okay. Just,” I take several deep breaths, doing my best to keep from falling forward in a heap of bones. “Let me adjust to this.”
“It’s okay, baby,” Rowan coos, thumbs rubbing soft circles on my hips. “Take your time. You’re so tight that just sitting on it feels good for me.”
At that, my eyes shoot open. “What?”
“Well,” Rowan starts, swallowing nervously in response to my sudden reaction. “You’re squeezing me so tight. So even if you’re not moving, I’m still happy. I mean it as a—”
“Jesus, Rowan,” I interrupt, throat tightening at the pleasure received from his words, my head falling back. Without a thought, my hips begin to roll. “Your mouth is so fucking filthy.”
A small, pained noise leaves Rowan’s throat, and his hands tighten where they grip me.
“Fuck, Eli. That’s good too,” he praises.
I return my gaze to his flushed face, his eyes narrowed in concentration on where our bodies are connected.
“Does everything I do just feel that good?” I ask, lifting myself halfway up his length, then dropping back down.
We both groan in unison.
“Yes. Yes, angel. Everything—everything you do feels so fucking good I could die.”
“Ahhh,” I cry, removing my hand from his chest to grip the hair on the side of his head.
He’s so fucking sweet, so charming that it makes me feral. It makes me vicious. And he smells so good.
“Yeah, just like that,” he pants, wide eyes still watching where I swallow his cock over and over again. “Oh, fuck, you’re perfect. So damn perfect.”
“Please.” I’m begging again. I just can’t help it. “This feels… it’s too…”
I don’t know what I’m trying to say, what I’m trying to convey. I just know that I’m crying, and his eyes have started to water, and I’m so fucking overwhelmed by whatever is sitting so heavily in my chest right now.
“I know,” Rowan coos again. “I know. I’ve got you, come here.” I fall forward onto his chest, feeling those strong arms wrap up my back, and his palms lock over my shoulders.
Then he’s fucking up into me at a rough, fast pace, and I’m sobbing into the side of his neck. I can taste his tears where they begin to fall and slide down from his cheeks.
With each grunt and each pant he releases into the air around us, I’m brought closer and closer to the edge.
“Oh god, Rowan. Oh, god,” I moan into his skin, fingers curling into his hair with far too much force.
“Fuck. You’re close—I can feel it.”
I’m not sure how he can feel it, but he’s not wrong. This pleasure is coiled tight and heavy in my stomach, a twin to the pain in my chest, and I feel as if I’m about to explode.
“So sweet,” I whine, delirious with pleasure. “You smell so good, my flower.”
Rowan groans loud and long, and as I feel his heat flood my insides—his release filling the condom—and his hand wraps around my dick where it’s trapped between us, I come with him.
“Angel, angel, angel,” he’s chanting, thrusting frantically. “Mine.”
My brain is nothing but mush as I twitch around him, the warmth of my come spreading between us, heightening the sensation of my orgasm with every passing second.
And as he slows to a stop, and I’ve finally stopped coming, once again all I can hear in the back of my mind is, “Do you remember me now?”
I stay curled up on top of him, and Rowan makes no move to unwrap his arms from around me.
As his cock softens, I feel it slip from my hole, and that drags a small whimper from my lips. One hand moves from my shoulder to caress gently at the back of my neck.
My brain is trying to comprehend the past thirty minutes, but it’s having trouble keeping up, and I’m fucking exhausted.
That sweet scent is mixing in with the musky smell of sex, and his warm body is lulling me to sleep.
My flower. Mine. Do you remember me now?
“Eli?” Rowan mutters, voice hoarse and small.
“Hm?” I cannot find the energy to speak.
“I told you so.”
I do find the energy to laugh.