18. 18 #2
I played house with him, fixing him a drink, grabbing a pillow to throw under his ankle, and I was happy to do so. I switched his laundry to the dryer, by habit double checking that the door to the mudroom was locked.
Returning to the living room, I was committed to enjoying what could be our last night together. Even if he was certain he’d stick around, the powers that be might’ve had other plans in store for us.
It was easy to fold into him on the couch. It was an oversized sectional, and he sat in the corner, his legs stretched out in front of him, one propped up on a pillow. His left arm sat on a pillow, too, and he was scrolling through channels.
I leaned against him, drink in my hand, and was happy just to watch him click through the guide.
I hadn’t realized it was already Sunday until the commercial ended and the little Sunday Night Football graphic came on the screen.
Without all the violence, it was almost like we’d taken a weekend getaway.
When the morning came, we’d be back to work.
“What’s your team?” I asked as the pregame came to a close.
“Cowboys, I guess, but only because of my dad. I’m not really loyal, I watch any game I think is going to be good,” he said. “What about you?”
“I was raised in a strictly Packer’s household. I watch most of their games, but it’s a lot more exciting with other people around.” I thought of my childhood, the jerseys, decor, and the spectacle of it all. “My parents are hardcore about it. They’re hilarious.”
“Packer fan in Michigan?” he asked.
“Are you from Texas?”
“Albuquerque, but there’s not an NFL team in New Mexico so you just have to choose your own. Michigan has a team, and you’re loyal to Wisconsin?” He teased, brushing my hair behind my ear.
“First of all,” I began. “The Lions suck. Second, you’re from Albuquerque? What is it like?”
“Hot,” he laughed. “There’s a lot of cool history, and the food is amazing. I feel like you could say that about a lot of US cities, though. You know, my great grandfather ended up there because of tuberculosis?”
“How?”
“Before medicine was made by pretty scientists with tattoos, doctors sent people with tuberculosis to the west. They thought the dry air would help, or at the very least they would die away from the healthy people. My great grandfather was building railroads until he got sick, then headed west. Then he started a new family, and here I am.”
“Do you miss New Mexico?”
“I miss some things, but I prefer experiencing all four seasons. And the sun is out too much there, not many girls that look like you stick around.” His arm was around me, hand resting on my waist.
My face grew hot at the compliment, and Elias kissed my pink cheek.
“No one looks like you where I’m from, that’s for sure,” I said.
His lips lingered, moving slowly to my neck, and planted a kiss there. Breathing deeply, he sighed against my skin, raising goosebumps all over my body. Cheers erupted from the television speakers, and Elias whispered. “Game’s starting.”
Absolutely buzzing from the contact, I nearly downed my whiskey in one go.
Elias’s fingers had creeped under my shirt, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing the soft skin of my stomach.
His eyes were focused on the screen, and he was genuinely watching the football game, cheering and groaning when appropriate.
I liked football, and I would have loved to watch, but all I could concentrate on was the path of his fingers. He sipped his own drink periodically, and when he was finished, he handed the empty glass to me.
I leaned forward, setting the glass on the coffee table, and Elias’s hand fell away.
Instead of returning to his side, I laid my head on his lap and stretched out on the couch beside him.
The last time I did this, he played with my hair, and well, things escalated quickly.
His injuries would likely keep him chaste tonight, and I was content just to be near him.
His hand grazed over my arm. “That’s a nasty bruise,” he murmured, his fingertips inspecting the damage.
“I thought I broke it at first, but it’s just tender,” I said. “It’ll be fine.”
“That’s good.” His voice was almost a whisper. He lifted my shirt, laying his hand flat against my stomach. “Yikes,” he said, jumping a little. I looked at the television to see the replay of a particularly hard hit.
“I feel bad for them sometimes. They destroy their body for our entertainment.” I loved football. It was an essential part of my family’s dynamic, but it was hard to watch.
Elias did not feel the same. “If I was getting paid millions of dollars a year I’d have no problem doing that. Hell, I get hurt on the job all the time and make nowhere near what they do.”
“Which is how much, exactly?” I asked, biting my lip. I was mostly joking, but I was curious.
His hand creeped under my waist band, fingers dancing just at the top of my hip. “Cassie, your insistence on discussing my finances is ruining my domestic fantasy.”
My heart stuttered in my chest as his thumb moved in small circles on my stomach. “What if my domestic fantasy is a man taking care of me?”
“I’ll buy you anything you want.”
I laughed, “That’s more like it.”
“Oh, wow,” Elias said, his eyes on the screen. “Pick six. He’s fast as hell.”
This was my favorite version of him, by far.
The cheeseburger eating, whiskey drinking, and football watching man underneath me was so casual.
He was smooth and confident, and a little silly, able to put anyone at ease that might catch a glimpse of his intimidating frame.
I felt so lucky to watch him in his element, relaxed at his home, and I was happy that amidst the chaos he could settle down for the night.
But each swipe of his thumb and twitch of his fingers sent sparks through my body, and I felt hot to the touch, aroused by his incessant contact. It wasn’t my fault, his hand was essentially in my pants.
I sat up, and Elias grabbed at my waist.
“No, no,” he said, not willing to let me go. I didn’t stray far. I just shifted to straddle his lap.
“Mmm,” he purred. “This is alright.”
I leaned forward, putting my lips to his, more fervor than I expected to have. His hand was on my lower back, pulling me in, and we both sighed at the contact.
“You know,” he said, against my lips. “If we’re talking about fantasies, I was hoping for nipple piercings.”
I giggled. “I’ve considered it. I haven’t really had anyone around to appreciate them.”
He kissed me again. “I’ll appreciate them. Feel free to reconsider.” Shifting his weight underneath me, he spoke again. “Turn around.”
I furrowed my brows, confused at his request. “You want me to sit the other way?”
“It’ll make it easier,” he said, as if that was enough explanation.
I maneuvered on his lap, carefully situating my feet around his hurt ankle. His healthy arm guided me to lay against him, putting my head on his shoulder. He kissed my neck now, his hand wasting no time in finding my breast.
“Oh,” I moaned, and I sunk into him. I turned my head to kiss him back, and he allowed this, though his arm held me firmly in place. It was clear that I was meant to be at his mercy. I squirmed against him as I imagined what he might do.
His left arm came down to my chest, and he inhaled sharply at the discomfort in his movement. It didn’t slow him down, and he raised my shirt, exposing my breasts to the cool air of the room. His hand was on me, my nipple hard against his palm.
So badly, I wanted to turn around, to lower his pants and ride him, but this is what he wanted and he wasn’t going to let me go.
His right hand trailed down my stomach, past my belly button, and under the waistband of my borrowed pants, quickly finding a home between my legs. I gasped at the contact, and Elias let my lips go, and burrowed his face into the sensitive skin of my neck and shoulder, licking and sucking there.
My right leg fell to the side, giving him more space to work with.
His fingers moved in slow, steady circles.
“You didn’t even let me get to half-time,” he said into my neck. “That was naughty.”
“Sorry,” I panted, his breath against my skin driving me wild. I writhed under his hold, and he slid his fingers down, feeling how wet I was.
Two of his fingers pushed into me with little resistance, his thumb replacing their earlier position. I threw my head back and it bounced off his shoulder, resulting in a breathy chuckle from Elias. It didn’t take me long to come undone under his touch.
He watched me closely, his fingers moving in and out, and I felt his erection hard underneath me. I wiggled against him and he let out a little moan of his own, and I was done for. My back arched and I cried out, but Elias held me down as I came, and he nearly stopped all movement in his fingers.
Rather than let me ride out my orgasm on his hand, his touch was featherlight, making me whimper for more. There was some relief there, some of the pressure released, but I was left wanting.
“Why?” I whined, grinding against him, trying to generate my own friction.
“You were bad,” he said simply, loosening his grip. “I was really looking forward to a good game.”
“I promise I will never interrupt again.” I meant it.
“If you want to redeem yourself, you can take me to bed and I’ll take care of you.” He was so bold, so confident in his choice of words, it only turned me on more.
I stood, the strength in my legs not quite sufficient for the task, and grabbed Elias’s hand with both of mine, tugging him up.
A part of me, a tiny, miniscule part, felt guilty for being so worked up when he was in such a sorry state.
If he hadn’t done what he’d just done on the couch, I might have hesitated at the offer.
When he reached his bedroom, he helped himself into the bed, and he propped himself up on one arm, eyes watching me under heavy lids. “You’ll have to take your clothes off yourself. Don’t mind if I watch.”