14. Lennie
Lennie
I ’m not sleeping naked in Elijah’s bed. But he really doesn’t believe in comfy clothes. I rummage through his dresser, everything perfectly folded, until I finally find a gigantic gray T-shirt and shrug it on.
My options for underwear are limited. I’m not interested in putting on a pair of his briefs and there aren’t sleep shorts or sweatpants.
I brush my teeth, lock the bedroom door again, and slip into the left side of the bed which looks like the spot less used.
The TV plays in the next room, but I shove my face into a pillow catching a hint of cinnamon and cloves.
A while later, the bastard works the lock. The door rams into something and Albert’s nails click against the floor as he pads inside.
“Really? You moved the chair in front of the door.” Elijah shoves his way in and passes into the bathroom where I have the pleasure of listening to him pee and brush his teeth.
Clothes rustle and I hide in the covers when he walks back in.
“Elijah!” I squeak.
“What?” he asks innocently. “I told you this is a pajama free household.”
I swear he takes his time, walking around the bed, before pushing the duvet back and sliding in.
I scoot toward the edge.
“I’m not going to touch you,” he promises in the dark.
I shove a pillow in between us.
“You know one of these days you’ll ask me to touch you.”
“In your dreams.”
“Those are constant.”
I whack him with a pillow.
“I’m guessing you’re uninterested in a goodnight kiss?”
“Very.”
“What are your opinions on somnophilia?”
I’m thankful the dark hides my face. I’m painfully untouched, but I’ll admit I’ve always been curious about certain kinks. But still, “I’m thinking that’s a no for right now.”
He chuckles, the covers shifting. “Let me know when that changes.”
I put an alarm on my phone for the morning, but I wonder about his schedule. The place creaks in an unfamiliar way.
“I really like your place,” I admit, my voice quiet in the night. “What made you buy it?”
“I liked it.” He cradles his head with one arm, staring up at the ceiling.
“It’s an empty warehouse.” That’s not accurate, though. “How long did it take you to renovate this place?”
“A couple years,” he admits.
He’s always played the long game, plotting out a thousand steps, but I can’t picture him tinkering away with home renovations.
A cold, bare castle is where I pictured him. Something aristocratic, harking back to his mother’s British roots. Especially after he came home from Oxford with honors.
But there’s a dog bed in his living room and hordes of plants everywhere. Dad would find that fascinating, considering he likes gardening too.
“You did a good job,” I compliment.
“Thanks, Leonora.” He sounds tired.
I close my eyes and try to sleep.
“Elijah?” I whisper.
He hums under his breath.
“Thanks for helping me.” I still believe he’s got a hidden agenda up his sleeve, but it’s appreciated nonetheless.
“Always.”
For some reason, I take the one word as a promise.
I wake up before my alarm, surprised at how well I slept. I shouldn’t feel so refreshed but the moment I closed my eyes, I went straight into a deep slumber.
I’m not groggy or confused. I slept on my side, facing Elijah and I stretch out my legs, the covers moving slightly.
Elijah turned onto his side during the night and I study his sleeping face. He’s calm and peaceful but even in sleep I sense dark demons hidden under his skin. In the past, I’d be apt to assume they were of his own making.
Now as his chest rises and falls softly, I can’t help but feel a sadness clinging to him.
The apartment is cozy but I wonder if it’s ever lonely.
He turns further onto his side, the blankets stretching between us. His arm slides out from under the duvet shifting them further.
And giving me a clear view of all of him.
I shamelessly stare at him, my cheek against the pillow, my eyes wide. His muscles are taut, his abs defined. And his cock. . .
My fingers curl into the blankets as I study him. There was one ill-advised hookup in college, but it never went further than a groping. Sure, I’ve seen pictures, but the truth is I’m horribly sexless.
I try not to be bothered by the fact. I’m a firm believer nobody should be shamed for the age they do or don’t lose their virginity.
But it’s another nagging reminder that I haven’t lived like others. I lack experiences because I’m too scared to live my life.
My hand reaches out on its own, my breath stilling. My fingers skim the sheets and then his skin as I wrap them around his awakening cock.
What are you doing, Lennie?
My thumb rubs up and down, my fingertips gently pressing.
Elijah stirs, breathing deeply. “Did you change your mind on somnophilia?”
Somebody shoot me now.
I retreat into the blankets, but Elijah’s next words hit me like molten lava.
“No, Leonora,” he rasps in a sleepy voice. “Finish what you started.”
I don’t know how and I’m afraid my red cheeks give it away.
“Wrap your hand around my cock again,” he orders.
My belly squirms.
“Now.”
He’s demanding in the morning, but it does something to me. I slowly extend my hand.
His piercing gaze never leaves me and my brows lift slightly, imploring him to help me.
He rolls his body slightly, a faint smile on his face as he watches me struggle. My fingers curl around him but I don’t know how much pressure to apply. I tentatively slide my hand up and down.
His stomach ripples and his smile grows but it’s taunting.
I sink into the pillow.
“Don’t be shy, woman.”
He takes pity on me and wraps his hand around mine, pumping up and down.
I forget to breathe for a second. His grip is firm but it’s the way he doesn’t break eye contact that eats me alive.
“You like being a cock tease don’t you?” he asks, his voice light, but the sentiment behind the words dark. “A shy little cock tease with infinitely kissable lips. Those fucking lips always piss me the fuck off.”
I make a noise trying to dispute that.
“It wasn’t up for debate, Leonora. You like this little word called no and I swear you say it only because you want to annoy me.”
I think I shake my head.
“No?” His hips jerk and my eyes shoot to our hands. “Then why the fuck do you think it’s okay to go out on dates with other men?”
I frown, belatedly realizing he means Leopold.
“That wasn’t my fault,” I argue.
“Asking for Ivan’s name and number.” The strokes grow angrier, his hips bucking toward me.
Me, of all people.
“You knew that was going to piss me the fuck off, Leonora. You fucking did it anyway.”
“So.” It’s fun, knowing it’s the wrong thing to say but doing it anyway.
His eyes narrow, his chest lifting and falling like he’s also struggling to catch his breath. His spine stiffens.
He rolls onto his back, getting a hold of his breath. Meanwhile, I stare at the cum coating my hand.
After several minutes, he flings the covers off, stands up, and pads to the end of the bed.
He fists his hand in the covers, pulling them off me.
His gaze drags down my body, his lips thinning as he takes in the gray T-shirt.
Since he took my underwear hostage, the lower half of my body is stark naked.
Heat curls in my stomach when his eyes devour my bare legs. I sit up on my elbows, but the weight of his stare keeps me pinned to the bed.
Everything in me tightens when he pushes my legs apart. Stickiness coats my inner thighs and he blatantly inspects me.
Then walks away.
My gaze follows him to the bathroom. The faucet turns on and I turn into a confused mess when it sounds like he’s brushing his teeth.
He comes back out, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth, holding a small towel. Wordlessly, he wipes my hand off and then goes back to the bathroom.
I shiver in the cold morning air, but I can’t move. I lift up slightly, trying to peek into the bathroom. He catches the movement and leans out the doorway.
“Yes?” he asks.
My lips part, no words coming out.
He goes back to his morning routine.
What the hell?
“Elijah!” I complain.
“Huh?” he voices from the bathroom.
“Why are you being an asshole?”
“Me?” He pops his head back out. “What are you talking about?”
I rub my thighs together, his eyes narrowing at the movement.
“Do you need something, Leonora?”
Out of stubbornness, I want to say no. But he knows otherwise.
Still naked, he steps toward the end of the bed, my chin tilting to stare up at him.
“If you need something, Leonora, you only have to ask.”
I’m going to kill this man.
“Elijah,” I mutter, my belly tightening.
He cocks his head, listening.
“I don’t need your help.”
That only makes his brow lift in interest. “Really? Well, go on then.”
I try to swing my legs off the bed but he catches my ankle. “You don’t want to go off to work frustrated and aroused.”
Another noise catches in the back of my throat.
I don’t understand what he wants from me, but his steel eyes dig into me. Heat furls under my skin as I rub my thighs together.
Elijah watches, his gaze laser-focused on the movement. “That’s not going to get you very far.”
He leans forward, placing his hand on the edge of the mattress. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
I shake my head, clenching my thighs together. He knocks them apart and I about die at how close his face is to the most sensitive part of me.
“Your pussy is begging to be touched, Leonora. Do it.”
The last two words have my hand reaching for myself. Once again, I don’t know what to do. I’m not a stranger to pleasuring myself, but never with an audience.
My finger drags against my folds, his gray eyes honing in on every move I make. Up and down, I drag my finger and he cocks his head to the side.
I rub my clit, the movement light and shy in the face of his brazen staring.
“Put a finger inside,” he demands, not impressed by the featherlight touches.
I tense. “N-no.”
He shifts his weight, the mattress dipping as he places one arm next to my waist.
“That time it wasn’t a suggestion. You’re going to fuck yourself like I ask or face the consequences.”
“Consequences?” More heat pricks my skin.
“Yes. Now touch your wet cunt before I take pity on it and tear into it.”
I rarely finger myself, preferring clitoral stimulation. But under his demands, I stick a finger inside myself, biting down on my lip.
He sighs and brushes hair off my sticky forehead. “Do you want help?”
I nod, almost wanting to cry I’m so desperate.
He takes my hand and licks the same finger that’s just been inside me. Then he thrusts it back into my pussy, along with his.
My back arches, the fullness building a low steady warmth in my belly. His thumb circles my clit and I squeeze my eyes shut as I ride the release.
I don’t get a chance to catch my breath. One minute his finger is inside me, the next his tongue.
He slaps both my hands away when I try to tear him away. “Be a good girl or I’ll stop tasting your cunt.”
My hips jerk into his mouth. He wraps a hand around each thigh, his tongue sucking my clit.
It takes me a minute to realize the jumbled noises I hear are coming from me. Nobody’s ever gone down on me before. If this is how his tongue fucks me then what will happen when he decides to tear into my cunt like he promised?
I whimper, but my hand twists into his hair forcing him down. It’s a signal for him to go wild, the brutal strokes of his tongue causing my hips to jerk.
One hand squeezes into my pillow, the other in his hair as I crumble with my release.
He crawls up my body and claims my mouth, making me taste myself.
The slow, steady kiss lingers, but he eventually draws back with an intense expression I’m slowly starting to realize will consume me.
His fingers trace my lips. “The next time you sleep over, I’m going to fuck your mouth. Do you understand?”
I can only nod.
It’s not enough for him. His fingers tighten in my hair. “Do you understand?”
“Y-yes.” And I don’t know what’s wrong with me but my thighs clench in anticipation.