Chapter Three #2
“I promise,” I say, pulling her back against my chest. She relaxes into me completely.
I trace slow circles up and down her spine.
For several long beats, she stays there, curled against me, and my mind stays exactly where it should—on keeping her calm, keeping her grounded—until I feel her nipples slowly pebble against her shirt and press into my bare chest.
She releases a low, shuddering breath that feels different from the last one.
Neither of us moves to acknowledge it, not immediately. I tell myself it’s the cold. And then she shifts.
It’s subtle at first, almost like an adjustment, but then she does it again. I drop one hand to her thigh, holding her still. She rocks forward anyway, deliberate enough now that there is no pretending otherwise. My cock hardens behind my boxers.
“Elliott.”
My name is a sigh on her lips. I shudder when her soft breath brushes my throat and feel the soft press of her lips against my skin. I realize I can no longer chalk any of this up to a nightmare.
“Chloe,” I say, gripping her shoulder and pulling back to look at her. Her blue eyes are dazed, and the hunger in them feeds into the beast clawing at my chest—but I hold him back. “The doctor said you need rest.”
“I don’t want to sleep. If I close my eyes, then I’ll see the water again, and—”
“Hey, don’t cry,” I say, alarmed when her pretty blue eyes fill with tears, undoing me.
“Don’t make me sleep, please,” she whispers, moving closer. This time, I can barely contain the growl that slips out when her body presses against mine. “I don’t want to dream. Make me forget everything. Please. Elliott.”
Everything? She means the dream. Fuck. Of course, she’d want to forget that, but how could I take advantage of her vulnerable state?
“A movie. That’s a great distraction,” I try weakly. It’s a last, feeble attempt at being a decent man. But then she rolls her hips, pressing her soft heat against the ridge of my cock, and every last thread of good sense snaps.
Fuck!
I tried, didn’t I? I tried to be the good guy.
A whimper slips through her lips when I slide my hand into her hair and grip the thick, dark mane, tugging slightly and watching hungrily as her lips part with a gasp.
“You want my help to forget?” I rasp, sliding my free hand under her T-shirt and trailing it along her skin. “Are you sure about that?”
She shudders, gasping out a moan when I cup her breast, velvet soft to my touch. Her tits are small and fit perfectly in my palm. Almost like she was made for me. A gift from the ocean.
Mine.
“I’m sure,” she whimpers, arching into my palm. “Make me forget.”
With a fevered groan, I slam my mouth down on hers.
She moans, long and deep, kissing me back with everything she has.
Her lips chase mine desperately as I twist over them.
The kiss is wet and searching. Her mouth is hungry but uncertain, following my lead, and that hesitation—fuck, that should be enough to have me pushing back.
But it only feeds my hunger for her. I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue against hers.
Christ above, her lips taste like the sweetest honey.
My head swims as I dip into her mouth, seeking to possess. To claim.
Chloe grips my shoulders, whimpering as she rolls her hips against my hard cock. The kiss turns dirty, as do the noises she makes as we kiss each other, hungry and desperate.
And I am. Hungry and desperate for her. This feeling should not be foreign—fucking hell, I’m no virgin—and yet, I feel out of my depth as I sink into her, lapping at her lips like a man starved.
And she lets me, making little noises at the back of her throat, arching into my touch, pushing her small breasts into my palms and rubbing her pussy against the ridge of my cock.
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” I growl, trailing my mouth over her jaw and down to her neck.
I tug her hair back to expose her throat and give in to the need to taste her—licking the smooth column even as I squeeze her nipple gently between my fingers.
I move my mouth back up and kiss her, groaning as her tongue tangles with mine.
“Elliott,” she whimpers, nails digging into my shoulders, bruising me.
A feisty little kitten with claws that light a fire under my skin, mewling and writhing like she’s lost control of her own body.
She reaches down and grabs my hand, pulling it to the spot between her legs.
“Here,” she whispers, groaning when I slide my middle finger between her wet folds. “Oh God, it feels good…like that.”
“You’re killing me, Chloe.”
But she’s panting, trembling against me. Her eyes are closed, back arched, and the sexy line of her throat exposed. “Yes,” she cries out, her hips jerking when I drag my knuckle through the center of her wet pussy. “Oh God, Elliott. Don’t stop.”
I watch her through heavy-lidded eyes, drinking up every expression.
Fuck me—the way she responds undoes me. Every touch lands like it's new to her, every sensation crossing her face unguarded, unschooled.
She doesn't know how to hide what she feels and Christ, I don't want her to.
I can't tell if that's simply who she is or how she is with me specifically, but either way I'm losing my mind over it. .
My bet is on the former.
And that thought alone is enough to send dark possessive thoughts surfacing. The thought that I might be her first—that I could own all of her pleasures, be the first to bring her over the edge so she’d never want another man—it’s enough to make me lose my mind entirely.
She whines when I pull my hand away, eyes snapping open with shock. “What…why?” she whimpers, those beautiful blue eyes dazed and pleading when they lock with mine. “Elliott.”
“Just hold on, kitten,” I rasp, wrapping an arm around her waist and laying her on the bed.
She gasps when I shove her T-shirt up and take a pink nipple into my mouth, sucking while pinching the other between my fingers.
Her back bows off the bed, and she lets out a loud moan that would wake the neighbors, if we had any.
I lap between her breasts, getting drunk on the taste of her.
My cock leaks with pre-cum as I release a nipple with a wet pop, moving my lips down her stomach. I slide her thighs apart as I go, gripping when she tries to close them. “W-what are you doing?”
I lift my eyes to hers and note the flush on her cheeks, the shock and bafflement in her eyes.
Yes, I was right And I’m about to show her what she’s been missing.
“I’m helping you forget,” I remind her, brushing my lips along the inside of her thigh, groaning when I catch the soft scent of her arousal.
“I’m helping you create new memories, kitten. ”
That is all the warning I give before I dip between her legs, growling hard when the intoxicating scent of her floods my nose.
My fingers tighten on her thighs as I push in for a taste, dragging my tongue between her folds and through the wet heat of her.
She cries out, hips lifting, and I force them down, moaning loudly as I press deeper into her pussy.
I should have known. Fuck me. I should have anticipated that she would break through every wall I’ve built. He’s loose now—that animal I’ve kept collared for years—growling as he seeks more of her, looking to claim. To possess. To own.
“E-Elliott!”
Chloe falls back against the mattress, fingers clawing at the sheets as I lathe her clit in slow strokes, teasing the swelling bud with the tip of my tongue.
She sobs when I close my mouth over it and draw slow circles, like a man who has all the time in the world and not one whose cock is threatening to ruin his boxers.
I work her clit until she’s sobbing and pumping her hips upward.
When she decides that’s not enough, my greedy little kitten dips her fingers into my hair and pulls me harder against her, using my mouth to chase her own pleasure.
And I let her. Hell, I help her.
Mine.
It’s the only thought in my mind as her arousal coats my chin and beard.
It’s the only fucking thought in my head as I drown in her sweetness, dragging my tongue roughly through her pussy as I seek more of it.
Of her. And when she starts shaking and her breath turns choppy, I know there is nothing I want more than to feel her fall apart.
I slide my hands up her body and cup her breasts even as I close my lips around her clit in hot suction, slowly increasing the pressure until she’s bucking against me. I feel it happen, and it’s fucking magnificent.
The way her body stiffens—then releases in shudders.
Her pleasured cry fills the room, and when I look up from between her legs, her expression says everything.
Shocked. Aroused. Amazed. She’s a sight to behold—head tossed back, back bowed, breasts arching into my palms. I lick her through every tremor, her flavor and scent flooding my senses until she’s all I can feel and taste and smell.
Mine.
My body is drawn taut when I pull back, watching her flushed face and heaving body as I tug down my boxers.
I groan when my hand closes around my cock, and I realize how close to the edge I already am.
Those pretty eyes open to slits and watch me, dazed, as I reach up and cup her breast, stroking myself faster, harder.
Our eyes meet and lock on each other, and it takes me three more strokes before I come, painting a stripe of white cum across her belly.
I toss my head back, stroking my dick faster as I finish all over her, every muscle in my body straining and releasing until there’s nothing left.
And then reality crashes into me.
It’s not regret—I could never regret someone as beautiful as this woman. It’s a shame. That I lost control with someone who depends on me for protection. And what I just did—fuck!
“Are you okay?” I ask despite myself, bracing for the feeling to hit her, too. For the shock, the anger. Instead, she lifts her arms above her head, stretches like a well-satisfied kitten, and yawns.
“Tired,” she whispers, eyes blinking closed. “So sleepy now.”
“Rest,” I tell her, climbing off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
“Will you stay?” Her voice is already half gone with sleep. “After?”
“What?”
“I don’t want to sleep alone,” she whispers, and when I turn around, those tired, beautiful eyes are fixed on me. “Please stay.”
I should say no. I know I should. And yet, I find myself nodding. Her smile is the last thing I see before I turn around. I take a few moments in the bathroom before grabbing a wet towel.
When I walk back to the room, she’s fast asleep, T-shirt still shoved up, the evidence of what we did still on her skin. I stand there a moment longer,, wondering what the fuck I’m going to do now that I’ve touched her. Now that I know what she tastes like.
How do I stop?
Slowly, I run the wet towel over her skin and clean her up, then tug her T-shirt back down.
I dispose of the towel, gather the blankets from the floor, and cover her.
When I slide in beside her, she rolls immediately to my side and burrows into me.
I stare at the ceiling and wonder what sin I’m being punished for.
How could someone like her end up with a man like me?