10. 10
I was surprised at how open he’d been, how willing he was to let me peek into his life. It meant a lot that he trusted me enough to be honest.
Elias sat at the end of the couch where it reclined, his feet kicked up. My head was safely in his lap under his strong hands. He played with my hair, tracing the lines of my jaw and shoulder, hands creeping down to my waist.
My head was swimming from the alcohol, and I wasn’t really watching the movie.
Guns shooting and cars exploding, the plot didn’t matter so much as the moment did for Elias.
He finished his drink, setting it on the coffee table, and began to shift under me.
“Scoot,” he said, as he squeezed in between me and the back of the couch.
The sofa was deep enough for the both of us, but he was a big man, and it was close.
He laid his head on the plush arm of the couch so he could see over my own, and he draped a blanket over us.
He snuggled in, sliding my hair over my shoulder so it wasn’t tugged in the process, and I shuddered as his fingertips trailed along my neck.
My heart beating out of control, the heat from his bare chest against my back, I struggled to focus on the screen.
He made me feel like I was in junior high, like I’d never kissed a boy, and I was just waiting for him to make the first move.
He held me, spouting little quips at the television, and my stomach was all tied in knots.
“Look at the way he’s holding his gun,” he said. “No trigger discipline.”
I laughed with him, only noticing the actor’s horrendous gun safety for the first time. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure who the character was. He could have been the lead for all I knew.
All I could pay attention to was the feeling of his body pressed against mine.
The credits rolled, a rock song playing in the background, and the boy behind me finally made a move. His hand slid down my side, stopping at my hip, fingers gripping my thigh. His warm lips were on my neck, and I gasped at the sensation.
“Your heart’s racing,” he said, whispering into my ear. The tickle of his breath made every hair on my body stand up.
I rolled to face him, “That’s your fault.”
Our lips met now, soft and slow. Lazy, like the night before, just getting to know each other properly. His hand was busy on my leg, hiking it up over his, before sliding it up my thigh to cup my rear.
He ground his hips into mine once, alerting me to his growing erection. My mouth opened wider, and his tongue danced with mine, slow and sensual, the sound of our breath now louder than the television.
We laid there, making out like a couple of teenagers, just enjoying each other’s bodies.
I moved to straddle him, and he flattened out under me.
His shaggy hair splayed out beneath him, and his bare chest shined from the light of the television.
Looking down at him, I was wet to the point I was concerned about staining his pants.
But now was not the time to worry about that, as they’d be on the floor soon enough. I hoped.
I leaned down, and he sat up to meet me half way with his mouth, hand in my hair, more forceful now that I was on his lap. He groaned as I moved my hips, and I could’ve come undone from the noise alone. Such a big man, under me, under my control. . .
My hands traced the lines of his broad chest, not yet having had the opportunity. He was soft, to my surprise, and my eyes followed a little line of hair that led to the waistband of his pants before it disappeared. I slipped a finger under his waistband while we kissed, teasing what was to come.
I reached in, grabbing him in my hands, stroking him softly. He wasn’t lying the night before about only being half hard.
He moaned into my mouth, and I made a little sound of my own.
“Let’s go to bed,” he breathed. He reached out and shut the television off, leaving us in the pitch darkness.
I stood up, reluctant to let go, but he threw me over his shoulder, and trod hastily to his bedroom, tossing me on the bed like I would change my mind during the short walk.
I bounced against the mattress, soft enough to not send me flying.
Elias joined me quickly, practically diving on top of me, deciding that he wanted me underneath him.
He pulled off my top, tossing it to the floor, before lowering himself onto me.
Soft lips found mine again, and he massaged my breasts, kneading them.
His hands were rough, calloused, and the added friction had me writhing under him, needing to be closer still.
My legs wrapped around him in an attempt to hold him hostage in this position.
My own hands shook, and I struggled to find where I wanted them to be. They ran down his back, his arms, and messed with his hair until he leaned away, breaking free from me, and shuffled backwards on the bed.
I propped myself up with my elbows and watched him, my eyes adjusting to the light from the moon creeping through the blinds. His eyelids were heavy, and the muscles in his face were slack. He kneeled there, between my legs, the smile on his face positively devious.
He reached forward, grabbing my pajama pants, and inched them down onto my thighs. Toying with me, he moved his left hand, then right, and back again, shimmying them down until he could pull them off, and set them gently on the ground.
Leaning over me, he kissed my lips and lifted my head, putting it on a pillow. “You wanna watch?” he asked, as his hand trailed down my stomach.
I nodded, swallowing hard.
“That’s right,” he said, adjusting himself and positioning his head between my thighs.
A kiss was placed on my inner thigh, and his thumb found his way to me first, separating me, feeling how wet I was for him. He licked, laughing softly as I trembled before him, and the heat from his breath made my right leg twitch.
He swirled his tongue slowly, eyes closed, his head moving in a circle, lips and cheek and face dragging along my sensitive skin. I bucked my hips up to meet his mouth, unable to stop my reaction. He acted in kind, his mouth opening to take more of me in, sucking lightly.
An arm reached upward, grabbing my waist, while my thighs threatened to hold him in place. His tongue moved in slow circles, undoing me, and he moaned, the sound traveling straight through me.
I felt my nipples peak as his hand on my waist migrated to find a new home.
His hand squeezing my breasts, I let out a whimper, throwing my head back on the pillow with a soft thud.
A finger entered me, exploring me fully, taunting me with the added sensation.
I told him I wanted to watch, and I forced myself to look down at him, fighting the weakness in my muscles, and I was beside myself.
He didn’t expect an audience, and he looked like he was doing this for his own pleasure, not for mine. His eyes were shut, working me lazily, enjoying himself completely. He feasted on me, his tongue not missing an inch.
I was panting, and a weak moan escaped my lips, stuttering and shaking like the rest of my body.
At the noise, he looked up at me and pushed my knees back to my stomach, opening myself up to him.
His touch stormed my senses, and his eyes set me over the edge, just barely visible from where he was occupied. I cried out, climaxing under his mouth, overwhelmed, and desperately tried to back away as he kept his stride.
I was held firmly in place by his hands, now gripping my calves, and I tried to use my legs to shove him off, but I was at his mercy, having lost control of my body as my orgasm rippled through me.
My arms gave up, falling to the side, and my legs went limp in his arms, entirely spent. I gasped for breath, having lost the ability to take in air for the minute prior. He wiped his lips against my thigh, letting me go in the end, and I tried to push myself up but couldn’t find the strength.
He laid down next to me, his hand finding my breast again, finger circling my nipple. “You were incredible,” he said, his voice low.
I turned to kiss him, tasting myself on his lips, and my hand went straight for him, grabbing him through his sweats. “I want you,” I said, my mouth against his.
“I didn’t bring any, uh–” he started to say.
“I don’t give a fuck.” That was the only answer.
Lack of muscle control be damned, I dragged myself to my knees, leaned forward onto my elbows and wiggled my ass, inviting him to join me.
I looked back over my shoulder to see him lifting his hips, sliding off the pants that had creeped lower and lower, springing himself free at last. I could see how painful it must have been to be confined to his clothes, no matter how loosely they hung from his body.
On his knees behind me, he sighed, running his hands along my spine, scratching me lightly with his fingernails.
“This is how you want me?” He asked, his voice nearly a growl.
“Please,” I begged.
I felt his fingers first, preparing me for him. He positioned his tip at my entrance, letting out a long breath, and pushed in slowly. “Oh,” he said, pausing. “Jesus Christ,” he finished with a whisper, and slid in the rest of the way.
I moaned at the feeling of him filling me entirely. He waited there, inside me, and I heard his labored breathing behind me. I moved on my own accord, and his hands on my hips stopped me, pulling me onto him completely once more.
Hands and hips moved in conjunction, slowly at first, testing the waters and letting me acclimate to his size. As he sped up, our skin connecting with a soft sound at every thrust, I fell forward, my arms unable to hold up the weight of my body any longer.
My face hit the bed, and dragged along the sheets with each push and pull of him, and my fingers found the tight space between us, reaching up to rub myself as he continued.
He couldn’t allow that, and his arm reached down to hold me, keeping me upright as he slid in and out of me.