Chapter 6 Elliot
ELLIOT
“Meow.”
I groan at the annoying sound threatening to pull me from a deep sleep.
“Meoooow.”
“What the fuck?”
I feel pressure on my cheek, and startle awake.
A cat stares down at me, meowing once again, pressing a paw against my cheek. I feel the gentlest scrape of a claw.
“Meatloaf? How’d you get in here?”
I lift my head, discovering my bedroom door is cracked open. I can’t remember for the life of me if I closed it tight enough for it to latch or not.
“What time is it?” I ask the cat, as though he’ll answer.
It’s late.
Or early.
That much is evident by the pitch black of the room. There’s no hint of the sunrise on the horizon.
I reach for my phone to check the time.
“Two thirty?” I stroke my hand down Meatloaf’s back, and he purrs instantly.
“I hope this isn’t going to be a regular thing,” I say, not really meaning it.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a pet in the house.
I’m not in my house enough to justify having a house pet.
But with Meatloaf standing on my chest, demanding pets, I realize just how much I’ve missed having a furry companion around.
A shrill beep sounds from down the hall.
“What the—”
Meatloaf hops off the bed, slipping through the crack in the door, and taking off in a run.
The beeping continues.
I toss aside the covers, wasting no time with a shirt or robe. If there’s an intruder in my house, I’ll deal with them whether I’m fully clothed or in my boxer briefs. I have no shame.
Halfway down the hall, I catch the distinct smell of Christmas cookies.
It reminds me of Kayleigh’s vanilla scent, and my head jerks toward the guest room door. It’s wide open, thanks to Meatloaf pushing it open. But there’s no trace of Kayleigh in her bed. I follow the intoxicating aroma into my kitchen.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I grumble, wiping the sleep from my eyes. It’s a mistake, because the second my hand falls away, I catch a glimpse of a red thong. Kayleigh’s bent over, pulling a baking sheet out of the oven.
“Baking,” she announces. “Hungry?”
“It’s two thirty in the morning.”
“You couldn’t sleep either?”
“What—”
Kayleigh spins around, revealing one of my ACDC T-shirts draped over her curvy frame. Judging by the long expanse of bare leg, I suspect she’s not wearing any shorts beneath it. Just that red thong.
“You said to make myself at home,” Kayleigh says, flashing me a smile.
“I don’t think I used those exact words—”
“So you don’t want a cookie?”
My stomach rumbles on command, reminding me how long it’s been since I had a bite to eat.
My appetite has been wonky ever since I brought Kayleigh back to the ranch.
I did my damnedest to focus on working, but my mind kept drifting back to the woman I knew was in my house—all alone.
The same woman who’s let me know, in no uncertain terms, that she’d like me to fuck her senseless.
“Why are you baking?”
“I stress bake,” she answers with a carefree shrug.
“Being here stresses you out?” I ask, feeling a twinge of guilt in my chest. I mean only to keep her safe. To keep her away from that fucking auction that’ll run every night until Christmas. But I never once thought bringing her here would cause her distress.
“I mean, the place is…bland. A little boring. But it’s not stressful.”
“Oh.” My tense shoulders relax as I approach the kitchen island.
I fixate my gaze on the cookies, mostly to keep it off of Kayleigh’s bare legs.
My cock’s already at half mast, and considering I marched out here in nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs, it wouldn’t take much for Kayleigh to discover just how much I want to fuck her.
“These cookies are my mom’s recipe.”
“Your mom likes to bake?” I guess, swiping one from the counter.
“She liked to bake. Past tense.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Kayleigh—”
“Thank you, but don’t make a big thing of it. She’s been gone for almost a decade, and if I start talking about her too much, I’ll just cry. Things are already awkward enough, right?” Her gaze drops to my cock, then back up. “Anyway, try one. They’re the best.”
I step up to the island, hiding my growing erection beneath the counter, and bite into a cookie. And moan.
Fuck, they’re not just good.
They’re amazing.
“Good, right?”
“Better than good. You really made these?”
“Well, it wasn’t Meatloaf.”
I let out a laugh, glancing down the hall, but there’s no trace of the cat who woke me out of a dead sleep.
“Put that thing away,” Kayleigh teases.
“What?” I ask, my gaze dropping to my boxers.
“I meant your smile. That thing’s lethal.
” She rounds the counter, slowly stalking up to me.
If I had any sense left in my very tired brain, I’d go back to bed and lock the door behind me.
Instead, I stand there, turning away from the shelter of the island, revealing my pitched tent as though it’s a fucking offering.
“This?” Kayleigh nods at my crotch. “This can definitely come out and play.”
I mean to catch her wrist before her fingertips graze the fat tip of my cock through my boxers, but I don’t try very hard.
Hell, maybe I’m just too tired to fight what I want most. I can’t stop picturing Kayleigh pleasuring herself in that sea of silk.
I want to be the one to make her cry out. I want to watch her writhe at my hand.
“You do own me, Elliot,” she says, circling her hand over my length and giving it a squeeze. “At least for a few days.”
“You know it’s not like that,” I insist, grabbing for her wrist at last. “I’m not going to fuck you, Kayleigh.”
“Why. Not?”
“I already told you.”
“So tell me again.”
I grip both her hips, lifting her onto an empty space of the island counter. I bunch up the edge of the ACDC T-shirt, revealing those red lace panties, all the while ignoring the voice in the back of my head telling me to stop this before it goes too far.
“Because if I come inside that sweet pussy of yours, I’ll own you. Not just for the terms of the contract. Indefinitely.”
Her eyes flare in what I can only interpret as shock.
“I’m not a possession.”
“That’s why I’m not going to fuck you, Kayleigh Kingston.
” I spread her thighs open wide, pressing my palms hard into her skin.
“Because you are so much more than a prize to be bought. A possession to own.” I drag a knuckle against the soft, damp fabric of her panties, reveling in her whimper of pleasure.
“And I’m a selfish man who would claim you and never let you go. ”
“Elliot,” she gasps, rolling those hips against my touch.
“No, I won’t fuck you. I won’t drain my cock inside your juicy pussy because you deserve better than me.
” I press both palms to the inside of her thighs, digging my thumbs into the soft flesh on either side of the red lace, tugging her pussy lips apart.
“But I will make you come, sweetheart.” I stroke two rough fingers against the wet fabric, applying pressure against her clit.
“I’ll make you come so hard your head fucking spins right off its axis. ”
“If I come, you come,” she insists, reaching for my cock once more.
I swat her hand away.
“Is that what you want, Kay?”
She whimpers.
“Do you want me to come all over these naughty little panties of yours?”
“Yes,” she pants.
I pull my cock free from my boxers and line it up with her panty-covered clit.
She cups her hand around my shaft, grinding me against her like I’m one of her toys.
I dig my thumbs into her flesh, pulling those precious pussy lips apart.
She wraps her legs around my waist, anchoring me to her with her ankles locked.
“Elliot,” she gasps as her climax hits in a sudden, savage wave.
“Fuck me.” Hot ropes of cum erupt from my cock, covering her panties, her thighs, and the edges of my T-shirt as her heels dig into my ass.
When she finally catches her breath, she flicks her deep blue gaze to mine, a sultry glint in those eyes as she asks, “You want to keep these panties too?”