Chapter 8
Lizzie
“Did you forget what you want?” Van asked. “You probably got fifteen people every day breathin’ down your neck, tellin’ you what to do. But right now, I’m askin’ what you want. You. My Lizzie. Not Eli Winter. Not the global super star. Just you.”
I’d never been good at asking for what I wanted, but this was Van. The one person in the world who really saw me. He always had, since we were wild kids running the forests on this mountain. His eyes on me was all I needed.
He smirked. “I want you. What do you want?”
Maybe I’d become possessed. Maybe the devil had taken over my mouth, but with him looking at me like he wanted to devour me and the way even just his eyes on my body raised goosebumps everywhere, I needed to tell him.
I took a deep, even breath. “I want to come. I want your mouth on my pussy again, and I want your fingers inside me while you fuck my clit with your tongue. Do it fast and make me drip for you, but I want you to look at me when I come. I need you to see me, and I need to see you.”
His eyebrows rose higher the longer I talked, but he didn’t waste time. He leaned back and then stood as he held his hands out for me.
I took them and sat up, facing him as he towered over me. My legs were wide open as he hooked his fingers beneath my knees and lifted my legs. The heels of my socks touched the backs of my thighs, and then he spread them as far apart as they would go.
Backing away from me, he dropped his jeans and thermal underwear to the floor and stepped out of them, and I watched the way his cock bounced and pulsed as he moved.
I didn’t realize I’d drooled until he stepped forward and lifted the saliva from my bottom lip with the pad of his finger.
When he sucked it into his mouth, I moaned and my eyes fell closed.
God, that was hot. But I couldn’t get the thought of sexting transcripts out of my head. The press would have a field day with what Van was doing to me.
“Eyes on me, Lizzie,” he said as he straightened and took one step back. “Stop thinkin’.”
I opened them slowly, trying to do what he had commanded, and raised my eyes to his.
In a low, barely controlled command, he said. “Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Show me how you want me to fuck you with my mouth,” he said. “Use your fingers.”
How I’d ended up here, spread eagle on my grandparents’ couch, I had no clue.
I’d have to clean it tomorrow or buy them a new one.
I couldn’t allow them to sit on it after the things Van had just said to me.
I’d never be able to look at this couch and not see the image of him naked and looming over me.
Slowly, I trailed a finger down my belly, and Van watched every inch of the descent, but I pulled it back to my mouth and coated it with saliva. When I caressed it lightly over my clit, his gaze grew darker, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit.
His cock was hard and huge, and it was extremely difficult not to focus on its straining power when I kept trying to imagine what it would feel like inside me. He wrapped his hand around it and squeezed while his pupils, surrounded by beautiful, multi-colored irises, expanded.
I fucked myself with one finger for a moment while he watched, but slowly, I drew it out and rubbed cum over my clit. Van’s eyebrow twitched, but that was the only movement he made.
I loved his eyes on me, and him watching me made every touch that much more erotic. I could be in a stadium of fifty-thousand fans, but I’d never felt more seen that I did now.
Focusing on the strength in his thighs spread shoulder width apart, I pushed in again and again, the heel of my hand pressing where I needed the most pressure.
Faster now, I fucked myself, and his breathing hitched, his magnificent chest pumping up and down, the muscles of his pecs defined and strong beneath dark brown hair.
It led up to his collar bones, which guided my eyes to his biceps and how they tightened and flexed in place, like it was taking all his concentration not to reach out for me.
The man had abs for days. I lost count, and those abs led to the most obscenely defined obliques.
Deep grooves that formed a V which pointed right where my eyes wanted to go.
By the time they found that pulsing length again, I was panting, fucking myself harder and faster, throwing my head back against the couch.
“Look at me,” he demanded. When I did, he said, “Make yourself come, and you can have this.” He gripped the base of his cock and it twitched.
I moaned, and my head fell back again, but I kept my eyes on his.
“Show me what you looked like all those times you made yourself come while you imagined me inside you. Don’t lie to me. I know you did ’cause I did too.”
Suddenly, he was on his knees in front of me.
Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of my pleasure, the scent of the need I felt for him.
When he opened them again, his warm hands slid the length of my legs, and he gripped my hips while I thrust my finger harder and added another.
“C’mon, Lizzie. Explode for me. I wanna lick you clean and fuck you like no one else ever will.”
“Van,” I begged. “Please.”
“Yeah. God yeah. You’re almost there, aren’t you? You’re fuckin’ beautiful like this. Tell me no one else has ever had you like this. Tell me I’m the only one who gets to see you open like this.”
“Yes.” I panted and squeezed my eyes shut. The rush was coming. My body was climbing the peak now. “I can’t come unless I think about you. Not once in six years.”
“That’s right,” he growled, “’cause inside your tight body is where mine belongs. Look at me. You don’t have to imagine me anymore. Watch me touch you.”
I opened my eyes, and he leaned in and took my lips in a brutal kiss.
His tongue invaded my mouth possessively, his lips almost bruising against mine, and he yanked my fingers from my body.
Licking a slow path down my chest, he stopped only to tug on my nipple with his teeth.
The pinch made me gasp, and then he was moving down my stomach.
When his mouth was between my legs and his eyes were firmly fixed on mine, he licked my clit with hard, fast flicks of his tongue and slammed three fingers inside me.
And just like all the times I had imagined him fucking me, I came and fell into the beautiful cradle of orgasm.
It pulsed out of me in a slow rush. My eyes closed in bliss and my hips rode the aftermath, until he was inside me.
I had no clue how he’d managed it, but I was on my knees, my breasts smashed against the wet spot I’d left on the couch, the length of my hair wrapped tight around his fist, and he pounded into me from behind.
“You fit me so good, Lizzie,” he panted. “I knew it would be like this with you. Oh God.”
“I want this every day with you,” I whispered. I couldn’t stop the words. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”
He grunted and fucked faster, and the coiling began again high in my belly.
The faster he fucked, the lower it traveled, until my arms shook and my pussy gripped him so hard he could barely move inside me.
I couldn’t hold myself up anymore, but he knew, and he guided my chest lower to rest on the couch, but he tugged on my hair to turn my face toward him.
He leaned over me, his chest to my back, and I felt his every muscle ripple with strength and uncontained need.
“You ain’t crazy,” he said, thrusting slower now, but harder. “But I might be.”
“What?” I froze. “Why?”
He coaxed my body back into his rhythm and punctuated every few words with a thrust. “Why’d I… let you go… that night? We could’ve had this… every day. I wanted you then just as much… as I do now… but you left.”
I knew he was right. My body knew it too. I felt a stab of regret wash through me. We’d wasted so much time.
Every move he made brought him deeper inside me.
He hit some impossible place, a vortex where heat and need and pleasure rushed round and round.
It pulsed and grew, and my whole body shuddered in anticipation.
“That’s it, my Lizzie. You’re close. Play with yourself now, darlin’.
Get ready for me. I want you to come again. ”
I did as I was told and reached between my legs.
Rubbing myself, I circled my clit tightly and my thighs began to shake.
The orgasm building again inside me was already more powerful than anything I’d ever felt sexually.
My entire body locked in place, and I clutched at the couch cushion with one hand, trying to prepare for Van to wreck me in the best way.
He wound his wrist once more, pulling my hair tighter, and yanked. My breasts bounced as my chest came up off the couch, and he lowered himself behind me so he could fuck me faster.
“Look at me,” he demanded. He groaned when I turned my head and my eyes found his, and then he leaned in to take my mouth again.
Electricity flared between us. It lit up the blood in my veins, and I felt every rugged inch of his cock inside me.
He wasn’t gentle. Sex with Van was unlike any experience I’d ever had.
It was brutal and punishing and perfect. He reminded me I was alive.
Until now, I hadn’t realized I needed that reminder.
Nuzzling his face into my neck, he opened his mouth and bit my shoulder.
He branded me with his teeth, and we came like that.
My body sucked him in tightly as he pounded into me one last time.
I cried out his name, releasing my whole self into his unyielding embrace, and he lost himself inside me, moaning mine.