Chapter 18 #2
“Fuck, baby.” His voice is gruff, strained. “You’re dripping,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so hungry?”
Because I’m not, I think to myself. But that feels like a confession of some kind. So I simply shrug against the desk.
“It’s alright,” he says, rubbing his thumb over my seam. “I’ll feed you.”
He strokes me lazily for a while, circling my clit and teasing my entrance before he grabs my ass to spread me wider. I look back to find him marveling at the sight of his fingers pushing into me, and I suck in a breath as he invades my body, a needy sound escaping before he even starts to move.
“Gods, Iris. You look so good from this angle. It makes me wonder…”
“Wonder what?” I ask, panting.
“What you’d look like taking all nine inches from the back.”
My core clenches around his fingers, and he chuckles.
“You like that idea, baby? You want to know what it feels like?”
Yes, I do. More than I’d care to admit. But that’s not something I’m willing to take so casually, and my teeth clench to keep myself from speaking it aloud.
In answer to my silence, Elliot wrenches my hand free from the desk and guides it to the straining bulge in his jeans, hissing sharply as my fingers close around him.
“Oh, fates…” I whine. “Please.”
He continues on his slow and torturous path, pumping into me with a hard, steady rhythm until I am nothing but a mewing mess on top of his desk, groaning his name into the wood beneath my cheek.
Three pumps and my legs are shaking. Two more and I’m weeping. A few more thrusts, and I can no longer resist the urge to move with him.
My hips push back, meeting his heavy stroke, and his hand comes down on my ass with a loud smack. I whimper as the burning sting turns to heated pleasure, and Elliot starts to growl as he grips my hip for more leverage.
“Can you take another one?” he asks.
I nod, bracing for another digit. But it doesn’t come where I think it will.
His thumb moves backward until it finds the pucker of my asshole, and I jolt as he presses inside.
“Elliot!” I scream, bearing down on his dick and clawing at the already splintering wood.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.
I shake my head, too pent up for words. I need release, and I need it now.
His hand comes down on my ass again, harder this time.
“I want to see you come, Iris. Show me what I want to see.”
He presses his hand into my back, fixing me in place once I start to writhe, and power pulses between my legs, my thighs clenching around his hand.
He curses in response, rewarding me with sweet words.
“Fuck, yes. That’s my girl.”
My stomach twists at the sound of his claim, and I gasp as a shockwave spreads from my core down to my toes, causing every muscle to tighten.
“Say it again,” I plead.
His fingers move faster, and his grip grows murderous, but the words come quiet, whispered directly into my ear.
“That’s my girl.”
I shout his name when I find my release, and Elliot’s hand comes around my mouth as I come harder than I ever thought possible.
Crying into his palm, he absorbs the waves rolling through me, and his movement doesn’t slow until I lie spent across the desk, covered in sweat, body pulsing.
But he’s not ready to leave, and I’m not ready to return to the hollow feeling, so we sit there a moment, fingers soaking in my heat as he brushes the hair from my face and presses a kiss to my cheek.
“You alright?” he asks, running his hand down my arm.
I’m a little sweaty, and my legs feel like foam, but otherwise, I’m better than I was ten minutes ago.
“Yeah,” I mutter, face flush and slightly embarrassed.
I’ve come to the strum of Elliot’s fingers almost a hundred times, but never have I felt quite as desperate as I did just now.
“I’m okay,” I mutter. “I just…I forgot…”
My words fail to manifest, replaced by a helpless sound as he slides free.
“You did so good,” he says, standing me upright and straightening my skirt.
He turns me in place before reaching around to grab a tissue from the little box on the desk, and I stand there in stunned silence as he wipes my thighs clean.
“I want you to go put some pants on and meet me downstairs, okay?”
My face twitches, the heat of his touch quickly wearing off.
“Why?” I ask. “Afraid someone will see what’s ‘yours?’”
Elliot smiles that dazzling grin full of sharp teeth and metal, and some of my temper simmers.
“Yes, princess. But mostly I figured you wouldn’t want to walk around bare assed. That skirt is pretty short.”
He holds up my panties in demonstration. The little string that holds the front and the back together has snapped in half, but he’s quick to stuff them in his pocket before I can snatch them back.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, trying to save face. “I’m just going home.”
Elliot’s brows dip.
“No, you’re not,” he corrects me.
“What do you mean?”
“I told you there’s a howl tonight,” he says.
“Yeah, but I thought it was pack only?”
“It is.”
“I’m not pack,” I say, plainly.
The confusion on his face turns to exhaustion.
“Iris, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, I have claimed you as my chosen mate, which makes you mine. Which means, yes, you are pack. And you are welcome at the howl.”
He wipes a bit more of my slick from my legs as he speaks, but when he’s through, he stands at his full height and challenges me with a single brow.
Part of the pack, huh? Me? The girl they all stare at? Sounds lovely.
“Do I have to go?” I ask, pouting even though I know I shouldn’t be.
“No, baby, you don’t have to do anything.”
Great, that solves that. Or, at least it would. But try as I might, I can’t keep myself from asking the next question.
“Do you want me to go?”
Elliot takes a step back to look at me. He isn’t frowning, but he isn’t smiling either, and I think he’s contemplating whether he wants to lie to me.
I can already see the answer in his face, but I’m sure a lie would be easier. Less troublesome than the truth. But for some reason, he decides not to.
“Yes,” he says, watching closely for my reaction.
I almost ask why. But it doesn’t really matter. After all that he does for me, a single bonfire seems like the least he could ask for.
“Okay.”
His smile returns in full force, but I ignore the little voice that tells me to reach out and touch it as I gather my things and head for the door.
He doesn’t follow me out. I assume he has some pack business to handle before the howl starts, which is fine with me, because I now remember what I was trying to say, and I’m not sure it bodes well for me.
I completely forgot to feed.